Twisted Trouble

Chapter 1 - Boys Suck

"Stacie, hun, you gotta stop staring."

My head jerks to the right as I rip my eyes away from Joel. He's high as shit and trying to take a pepperoni pizza out of the oven. Here's hoping he burns himself.

"I'm not staring!" I lie to Heather, to which she raises her perfectly waxed brows. I swear, she's supermodel gorgeous; she makes me look uglier than Danny Devito's left foot.

"You were definitely staring," Kyle smirks next to me. Where did he even come from?!

"Don't you have vomit to mop up?" I snap. Some kid puked in the urinal and I'm 98% sure no one has cleaned it.

"I'm on break so that sounds like a 'you' problem," Kyle says as he pushes past me and makes his way towards the food court. Good thing he's walking away before I can spit in his eye.

Kyle fists bump Joel before ordering greasy food for his break. Joel doesn't drop the pizza or burn himself, unfortunately. I turn my attention back towards Heather and admire the bright neon lights as they hit her blonde curls. Lil Wayne's auto tuned voice is blaring above us, so of course I can't hear myself think. I hate working Friday nights at the bowling alley.

"Honey, you really need to try to get over him," Heather says with her sympathetic blue eyes.

"Oh, I'm over him," I say. Joel means nothing to me. God, you suck someone's dick one time in a McDonald's parking lot and everyone thinks your in love. It's never going to happen again, that's for sure; Joel and I haven't even talked about it. He barely acknowledges me now.

"Then why do you keep looking over there?" Heather asks.

"Because Joel's an idiot. I'm making sure he doesn't burn the place down," I reply. I don't even know how he got this job; he really shouldn't be allowed near open fire.

"Mhmmm," Heather hums as she rinses out the bar glasses.

Heather's like my mom. She's mid-30's and bartends here part time. She has always given me really good advice about boys and life and how to shave your bikini line without getting gross razor bumps. She looks out for all of us, and I'm so grateful she's willing to listen to my bullshit.

"Stacie! I don't pay you to gossip with Heather, get back to work!" John screeches as he whizzes past us. I just stare at the two bald spots on the back of his head that don't connect.

"Ugh," I sigh, not wanting to go back over by Joel. Now would be a really good time to rage quit.

"Go," Heather urges. "Don't forget, you're welcome to stop by tonight. I'm buying booze," she says with a smile.

Okay, so Heather's not really like my mom. She likes to invite us all to her house after work to let loose and complain about management. No one really questions it because Heather's so cool; she's like family. Plus she buys us alcohol, and not the cheap kind that burns a hole through your throat.

"Maybe," I smile back before taking a deep breath. I can't do this.

I keep my head down as I trudge towards the food court. My palms are sweating like it's 100 degrees in here. I wipe them on my stained, oversized shirt as I stand behind the register. Joel is chopping bell peppers and doesn't look up at me.

It's fine, I'm fine. I don't need him or his stupid smile and chiseled biceps. He's hot, but that's all he is. I literally don't even think he's capable of having a coherent thought. He fries his brain with drugs.

As I'm pondering my hatred for him, an angry woman approaches the register waving a cup in my face. Here we go.

"This milkshake—it tastes like shit," She snarls as she rips off the lid.

"Uh, I'm sorry ma'am. We can make you a new one—"

"I don't want a new one!" she yells. "I want my money back! And I want to be refunded for my game!" This dumb bitch.

"Let me get my manager," I say with the fakest smile I can muster. "John, can you come to concessions?" I quickly mumble into the walkie. No answer. He's probably sitting on his ass in the back watching Youtube now.

"Are you stupid? Just give me a refund!" The woman spits. I am two seconds away from throat punching her; I'm not meant for customer service.

"Ma'am, maybe we could help you if you stopped acting like a complete asshole," Joel speaks up. My heart skips a beat as I turn to look at him. He's actually helping me.

The woman gawks at us like we just told her we pissed in the milkshake. "I want both of your names! NOW!" She roars.

We exchange glances and hesitate. God, why does he have to be so hot? He finally says Matt while I say Casey (no one here likes Matt or Casey and I'm pretty sure everyone would be ecstatic if they got fired. We did the world a favor).

"I'm calling corporate!" she cries.

Joel just shakes his head. "Make sure you take that stick outta your ass before you do," he mumbles.

I'm pretty sure this woman can't even hear him, but that doesn't stop her from hurling the milkshake at us. Watery, vanilla-flavored slush drenches our faces and hair.

"Oh my God!" I shout as the woman throws down her cup and stomps away. Joel just bursts out laughing as he grabs wrinkled up napkins.

"You blew your nose in those!" I say, refusing to take them. I attempt to blink the cold liquid out of my eyes. I have dealt with a ton of bat-shit crazy customers before, but nothing compares to this.

"Calm down Stace, it's just a milkshake," He snorts. My stomach twists into a billions knots after he casually says my name. He licks up part of the milkshake that's near his mouth.

I try not to stare at his lips as I regain what little composure I have. "You know what, she's right. This does taste like shit," I say before trying to spit up the milkshake that dripped into my mouth. The flavor is so sour I'm pretty sure it's going to induce vomiting any minute.

"It's not my fault no one knows how to rotate the milk here," He smirks before clearing his throat. "You going to Heather's tonight?" He suddenly asks as liquid drips from his shaggy brown hair. It catches me off guard.

Let's see, what's on the agenda for tonight? Binge stale Doritos and watch Forensic Files for seven hours straight. What's better than that?

"Maybe, I'm not sure," I say. Even through the rotten vanilla stench, I can still smell his sweet cologne. I hate myself for wanting to be closer to him.

"You should come," He says, looking straight at me. I think I'm having heart palpitations.

These are the exact words he said to me the night when he wanted me to get food with him and his friends. And food turned into listening to The Ramones in his car. Which turned into a twenty minute blow job in his backseat.

And I still agree to go to Heather's, like an idiot, because I'm completely in love.