“Well, I don’t know about cute, but there are reasons I’ve abstained, if you will.”
God, I just loved hearing him talk. What guy says, “If you will”? He sounded so intelligent, and I wanted to pounce on him. And here we go again. Was there no end to my out-of-control sexual desire for this guy? Hello, Brooklyn? Your father is right inside.
“I’m sorry I acted like a jerk,” Ryan said. “I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t even have any place to go. I was just embarrassed. I thought I kissed you all wrong.” He hung his head.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “I nearly came.”
I am the biggest moron on the planet. Why did I say that?
“I mean, I didn’t almost come. I . . . I don’t know why I said that. Oh my God. I’m so embarrassed. I’m not like that. I’ve never come in my life. I mean, I’m a good girl.” I had no idea what I was blabbing about. “I just think you’re a really special guy.” Brooke, turn around and go back inside. “I just meant that it was really nice,” I ended lamely.
“You’ve never come before in your life?” Ryan asked softly. “That’s a shame.”
The heat washed over me in an angry tidal wave. It was embarrassment and lust and giddiness crashing down all at once. I wanted to drown in it.
“Well, I don’t know,” I said just as softly. I didn’t even know what that meant. Of course I’d had orgasms in the past, but I realized none of them counted because they weren’t with Ryan. And then I remembered my dad was inside, and we were talking about orgasms.
“I think it’s late,” I said. “And I think I’m tired from today. School. Work.” Spying on the swim team.
Ryan nodded. “May I see you tomorrow?”
“You mean later today?” I asked.
Ryan nodded patiently.
“I have to work the lunch shift at the diner,” I said.
“May I come in for lunch?”
I grinned. “Yes.”
“All right then, Brooklyn,” Ryan said, and I liked it. I didn’t like when Cal called me “Brooklyn” because he did it to keep a certain distance. And just to be an asshole. But Ryan wasn’t trying to keep me at a distance at all. He said my full first name, and it instantly drew me closer to him.
“See ya,” I said, watching him walk into the blackness of the morning.
Eleven
I had no business getting all dolled up for Ryan. I was supposed to be focused on Cal, but somehow he became just some guy in the background, out of focus and unimportant in my life. I thought I heard Beth screaming from a far off place, asking me what the hell I was doing, but I ignored her. She couldn’t control my life. I’d get to Cal when I got to him. She had to understand that.
I studied myself in the full-length mirror. I’d never looked prettier for work. I thought I looked like a Barbie doll, my hair pulled up high on my head in a ponytail, locks curled and tumbling in flirty waves from the elastic band. I pumped up the eye factor with heavy mascara. I wanted to go for an Edie Sedgwick look—all ‘60s glam. I even ironed my uniform, a typical diner waitress outfit. Blue shirtdress that hit just above my knees. I slipped on my Keds and grabbed my apron.
I planned to knock his socks off.
Ryan showed up at one. I assumed it was to beat the lunch rush, but he came in the midst of it. The hostess tried to seat him at the bar. He was alone, after all, and she didn’t want to waste a table on him. Normally we waitresses appreciated this. Bigger party meant larger bill which hopefully meant fat tip. It didn’t always work out that way. There were your typical cheap ass patrons always looking to find something wrong with the service or meal, thus justifying a poor tip or no tip at all.
I especially loved the ones who ran me to death and then stiffed me. They usually had me going to the kitchen at least ten times throughout the course of their meals needing a refill when their drinks were three-quarters of the way full. Needing dipping sauces when their meals didn’t come with them. Needing a fresh salad because they found one wilted lettuce leaf. And if I didn’t hover over them, they’d complain of being forgotten, and so would undoubtedly “forget” to leave a tip.
“I’ve got an open table,” I told Kimberly, watching Ryan hover about the bar area. “Just put him with me.”
“But yours is a four top,” she argued.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said.
“It does matter. I’ve got to seat a family with you. They can’t sit at the bar.”
“Kimberly,” I said patiently. “Seat him with me. Now.”
“Whatever. It’s your tip,” she said, and showed Ryan to my table.
I approached him after counting to twenty. I didn’t want to seem too eager.
“Hi,” I said. I felt bright and bubbly and on top of the world.
“Hello.”
I placed my hand on my hip and popped it out. “Come here often?” I couldn’t resist.
“Once. The waitress was cute, but she’s got nothing on you,” Ryan said.
Damn right she doesn’t. I went Edie Sedgwick for you, buddy.