l walk out of Romano's so unsure of myself. Not quite definite of Chef Brooks first impression of me. I never got any signs or even a hint as to how the interview went. My jaw tightens at the thought of him.
I swiftly make my way through the maze of cars, finally reaching my red Volkswagen Jetta. I open the door, lowering myself down into the seat, one leg remaining out the door. I remove my heels, tossing them onto the floor of the passenger side and exchange them for my flats.
I dig into the right pocket of my black dress slacks, my fingers frantically searching for my phone. It's not there. I reach into my left pocket, not there either.
"Seriously? " I groan.
Closing my eyes, I place my hand against my forehead, dragging it down my face. I would rather walk a mile barefoot over hot coals than go back into that place right now. I want to spare myself another round of confused stares and internal judgement. I let out a frustrated sigh as I groan.
I hop out my car, closing the door as I quickly make my way back to the entrance. I'm knocked off balance halfway when I bump into what feels like a brick wall.
"Ow!" I yelp as my ass makes contact with the concrete. I make the decision to go ahead and just lie myself down in this exact spot. I don't think I can handle anymore embarrassment at this point and after the day I've had it feels kind of safe down here.
I bring my right arm up, placing it over my eyes. My body is splayed out on the ground similar to that of a snow angel formation. "Uh...what are you doing?" I hear a deep voice ask.
"I'm fine, just give me a minute," I tell him softly, waving off the stranger.
"You have got to be shitting me. You're lying on the hot concrete and you honestly expect me to believe that you're fine?"
"Yes," I answer, now mildy agitated by this rude ass, random stranger.
My eyes fly open as he lifts me to my feet effortlessly, our bodies only inches apart - my breathing ragged. "Chef Brooks?" I breathe. A look of pure shock splashes across my face as I look up at him with a wide eyed gaze.
"You are not fine. Are you fucking crazy?" His voice comes across so low and menacing it might as well be a whisper.
His intense blue eyes hold my hazel intently. A hand remains wound around one of my wrists as he observes me. These few seconds of his hand being exposed to my skin ignites every nerve in my body, radiating a wave of heat over the entirety of me.
I don't want him to let me go, then again I don't want him holding on to me either. I barely know this man. And besides, the manner in which he was treating me is repulsive. I am also not a fan of his cocky attitude.
"Excuse me?" I snap. I peel his fingers off my wrist and release my arm from his grip, placing it against my chest. "What person in their right mind curses at someone like that? I don't even know you, and you definitely don't know me. And...you touched me. Have you never heard of stranger danger?" I lift a brow at him.
He remains silent. He just continues to gaze at me with a growing smile threatening to make an appearance.
I dust the gravel from my sleeves and pants legs angrily. "What?" I ask, looking up him, still dusting off my pants.
"I'm definitely not a stranger, you just met me not even forty minutes ago," he smirks, bringing a hand up to rub at the exposed skin on the back of his neck. He leans in close, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. I can feel the warmth from his breath on my ear as he whispers, "Oh, and if I wanted to do something to you, I would not have done it on my job site." My lips are slightly parted when he pulls away.
I'm mildly turned on from the low, sultry tone of his voice alone. However, the aura of douche bag emanating from him quickly simmers the flames.
"Anyways, I came to bring you this. You left it in my office." He reaches in the top pocket of his chef coat, extending his hand towards me, his palm containing my phone. I cautiously reach for it, quickly grabbing it from his open palm. I try my hardest to not jump him right here.
I examine his features.
Did he feel it too? Did he recognize my touch as oddly familiar? It's hard to tell with him, his expression is hardened, emotionless as he stands there. He is obviously well seasoned in the art of masking his emotions.
"Thank you," I gently respond.
He nods abruptly and then walks away. And he called me the crazy one. This guy can't even hold a ten minute conversation.
"You could at least apologize!" I shout to his fading silhouette as he fades into the building. His rude manner supplies me with a boost of confidence once more.
Asshole.
I narrow my eyes. If my eyes could burn holes into the back of someone's head, his would undoubtedly be the first.
I trudge back to my car, feeling defeated - angered - by this man that frustrates me so much.
I take one last glance in my rear view mirror, staring at the door behind me, wishing that he would just come back out here and tell me what it is that had him at such a loss for words. I drive away with mixed feelings as my mind tries to sort through what the hell just occurred between us.
***
"Hello," I answer groggily, tucking my phone underneath my ear as I lie motionless on my side.
"Becca, sweetheart are you still sleeping?"
"Yes I am, mom." I groan. My eyes close as I begin to drift off. No matter how much I love my mom, she never ceases to call at the most erroneous hours.
"You do realize what time it is?"
"Midnight?" I sleepily slur.
"It's almost twelve in the afternoon, Rebecca."
"Oh crap!" I swing my legs out of bed and use my fingers to brush the excess hair that has gathered on my face from the sudden rush of movement.
"Rebecca?" I hear my mother faintly call.
I reach behind me to grab my phone, it fumbles in my hands before I press it to my ear again.
"Sorry mom."
"Would you like to come over for lunch? Your father is home today, and he's grilling up a few things. Oh, and I also invited Violet and Hannah for you."
"Yeah, sure mom. Give me, like, an hour?"
"Alright sweetheart, we'll see you then!" My mother replies excitedly.
I take a quick shower and head to my closet. I throw on my teal bohemian maxi dress and a pair of gladiator sandals. I then return to my bathroom once more to curl my hair. I had my mind set on wearing makeup, but I'm just not in the mood today. I grab my phone from the other room and dial my mother's number.
"Hey, sweetheart." I grab my purse and keys and head out the door.
"Hey mom, I was just calling to see if you needed me to bring anything?" I step into my car.
"Um, yes, actually could you bring a couple of two liters, some wine, and some juice for the children?"
"Children? Wine? Mom, how many people are coming over?" I complain.
"Just a few...we're just having a little get together with family and friends that's all."
"For some reason I think there is some deeper rooted meaning behind all of this," I mutter, cranking the engine.
"Don't worry about it Rebecca, just make sure you bring the drinks, darling. I don't want you talking and driving so I'll see you when you get here. And don't forget to take your pill."
"Okay. Bye mom."
I laugh, rolling my eyes.
I stop at the Target down the street from my apartment and pick up the drinks my mom requested. I arrive to my parents' house twenty minutes later.
As I soon as I exit the car, I am greeted by the sound of music blaring from behind the house. I walk around the side of the yard toward the backyard. When I reach the backyard, it is filled with a sort of celebratory atmosphere. I could have sworn my mother told me she only invited a few people. This is way more than a few.
"Becca!" my mother calls over the mixed sounds of laughter and music when she spots me. She walks up to me, trapping me in a hug.
"Hey, mom." I pull slowly out of her claustrophobic embrace.
"You look so beautiful sweetie. Come here, I want you to meet someone," she tells me, holding a flute of wine in one hand. She drags me inside the house when I don't come willingly. "I want you to meet Alex."
I knew there was strange justification behind her actions. My mother appears to be on the brink of drunkenness. A cup or two of wine and she becomes something that I loathe and love all at the same time: overly friendly and downright annoying.
"Alex?" I question, perplexed. The name doesn't ring a bell.
"Yes, Alex." she beams, gripping my shoulders tightly, "Alex could you come here a second?" she calls to a man with his back turned, standing in the middle of the living room.
The man whom I believe to be Alex looks over his shoulder in our direction. He sends my mom a polite quirk of the lips, while I feel the blood rush from my face. My mouth flies open.
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
He sets down the glass he held in his hand, and saunters up to us while I try and conceal myself behind my mothers petite stature. When he gets close enough, she pulls him into one of her famous hugs.
"Alex, meet my daughter Rebecca," she beams as she pulls me to her side. I hastily hide my face with my auburn locks. "She's a shy girl. You two have fun now, I have some guests to attend to."
And like that, she walked away. I inwardly groan. Now I am stuck in a room with this asshole. I cross my arms over my chest and take a seat on the couch, I hear his heavy footsteps following shortly after. As soon as he takes a seat, I scoot as close to the armrest as humanly possible. Any closer and I'll probably be dry humping the thing. After what seems like an eternity, I take an opportunity to break the eerie silence that has swept across the room.
"So, what, are you stalking me now?" I ask him dryly. I don't bother to turn and look at him in order to judge his reaction, as I seem to be absolutely horrible at reading him regardless of what emotions are raging on inside that brain of his.
"Do you know the definition of stalker?" He asks, emphasizing each word.
"Not verbatim, no." But I have an inkling you're going to try and prove me wrong anyway.
"Stalker," his voice heightening on the word, "'a person who harasses or prosecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive behavior'. Have I been giving you unwanted or obsessive attention?" I catch him out the corner of my eye swivel in his seat, placing his arm on the back of the couch to observe me. My eyes remain glued to the window ahead.
He has most definitely not been giving me unwanted attention. If anything, it's the total opposite of that. I want his attention. I crave it.
"I suppose you haven't. You do however seem to act as if I am some sort of burden or joke to you though." My expression hardens into something similar of his. His attitude appears to have rubbed off on me.
"Never said you were. Your words, not mine." I look to him, and there is no smile plastered across his face, no glimmer of amusement in his eyes, just the same emotionless features that have come to haunt my dreams every night since the interview. What is with this guy?
"Oh, well...um, I apologize for accusing you of being a full on stalker." I try my hardest to portray myself as uncaring.
"Okay, so I have upgraded to full on stalker now?" I hear a hint of laughter in his voice.
"Yes, it's the highest honor just above stalker status." I bring my hands in the air, moving one hand inches below the other, demonstrating to him just how far off he is from stalker status. I giggle because even I can tell just how ridiculous I sound.
He laughs a throaty laugh - it's a beautiful sound really - and I can't help but join him.
His laugh stops abruptly. "I apologize for knocking you down that day, even though in my defense you weren't paying attention at all to your surroundings."
"Gee, thanks." I chuckle, rolling my eyes playfully.
He appears to have moved closer in the past ten minutes compared to his original spot on the opposite end of the couch.
"Can I ask you a question?" I glance over at him, unconsciously placing my palms on the couch - stretching them - trying to ease the tension that is building in them.
"Depends on if I'm willing to answer it." His eyes hold mine fixedly.
"Okay, well I'm going to ask it anyway. How did you end up here?" I inquire.
He pauses for a beat before answering. "Well, I used this thing called a car that has four wheels - "
"You know what I mean."
"He's an old friend," he laughs, leaning back against the couch. "I interned at Natalie's a while back."
"I've never seen you there, and I visit all the time."
"It's more than likely because you were still in high school at the time," he responds.
"Still, I know everyone at Natalie's, the staff has never changed," I irritatingly reply.
"Maybe you just weren't paying attention." The corner of his lip turns up into a slow smile, and I reciprocate it. I find myself inching closer. When I look down, our hands are only millimeters from touching.
"You know, for a timid girl you ask a lot of questions."
"I've heard." What am I doing? I'm supposed to be a socially awkward twenty something, not a flirtatious-sexual-deviant-test proctor.
"I um, I'll be right back." I swiftly rise to my feet, smooth out my dress, and briskly walk to the bathroom.
I search through my gold messenger bag for my phone and send a flood of group texts to Violet and Hannah.
Me: Omg help me.
Me: Where are you guys?
Me: He's here!
Violet: Hannah is somewhere stuffing her face I assume.
Hannah: And Violet is consuming all the alcohol.
Violet: Shut up Hannah. Who's here love?
Me: Alex!
Hannah: Who's Alex?
Me: Fucking Chef Brooks from the interview!
Violet: Shut up! Where are you?
Me: I'm inside. I'm hiding in the bathroom.
Hannah: And where is he?
Me: In the living room...
I'll be right there, they send simultaneously.
I stuff my phone into the side pocket of my bag and lean back against the bathroom sink - my nails tapping against the porcelain impatiently. A few minutes later, I hear light tapping at the door, I press my palms and ear to it.
"Hannah? Violet?" I call cautiously.
"Yes, it's us. Open the damn door," Hannah demands.
"Sorry," I murmur, opening the door shamefully.
"Wow, I really love your outfit," Violet compliments as she examines me.
"Thanks." I crack a small smile.
"So what's wrong? Why the S.O.S?" Hannah inquires.
"Is he still out there?" I whisper, pointing in the direction of the living room.
"If you're talking about that very attractive guy sitting on the couch, yes." Violet says nonchalantly.
I stifle a groan, throwing my head back, which doesn't seem like such a good idea when it hits the bathroom mirror. I freeze in my position while my good friends burst into giggles. I hold the back of my aching head as their giggles start to cease.
"Can't you guys like...sneak me out or something?" I plead.
"No," Hannah says sternly, shaking her head. She holds her hands on her hips. I let out another groan.
"At least get him away so I can escape!" I whine.
"No," Violet firmly repeats.
"What, now you're on her side?"
"No, I'm not, but he really doesn't seem like that bad of a guy. Just talk to him," Violet defends.
"Fine," I growl between clenched teeth, storming past them.
Once in the living room, I search for the man that both irks and awakens me. He is not seated in the place that I left him waiting. What if I ruined everything by my long absence?
"Rebecca, there you are! It's time for lunch honey, I saved you and your friends a place at the table." I snap my head to the left to see my mother's head peeking inside the front door.
"We'll be right there mom!" I shout back.
I look back to Violet and Hannah, but they just send me a shrug of confusion.
Maybe Alex truly did tire of waiting on me. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he just got hungry and decided to get himself something to eat. I'm mentally crossing my fingers.
"Let's just go outside and hopefully he's there stuffing his face. " Hannah tells me reassuringly.
"Like you always are?" Violet and I respond in unison.
"I hate you both," Hannah tells us.
"We love you though," I smirk.
I don't know why they absolutely insist on making me befriend this man. It has been three days and he still has informed me of nothing about the status of my internship. I suppose I just have to look elsewhere.
I should have known when my father recommended that I visit Romano's that day he had something up his sleeve. That is exactly why I suspect this to be more than just a barbeque.
When we reach the backyard my mother gestures to three empty seats at the patio table. It is occupied by: my mother, my father, my close cousin Lucy, and...Alex. My father has those three seats separated, so I am forced to pop a squat between Alex and my father while my friends are seated on the other side of him.
We continue through this afternoon mostly silent except for the soft music and banter in the background. I eat, talk to my dad, and friends and completely disregard the human being next to me. It's only fair he gets a small dose of his own medicine. He left me hanging twice if he wants to get technical.
My mom however - especially when slightly drunk - has an intense dislike for awkward silence. I was in fact ignoring the very person she insisted on me getting to know.
"So..." my dad halts my mother before she can even begin to speak. "How's the restaurant Alex? Business doing good?" he takes a bite of his hamburger, awaiting his response.
Alex takes his tongue and slowly, teasingly laps up the faint line of wine that has accumulated on his top lip, afterward responding. "It's very good. Business couldn't be better. Although I am surprised at how we are still in business with Natalie's only twenty minutes down the road." He toys with the pile of salad on his plate.
"With you there I'm sure the business will continue to flow. I did teach you everything you know," my dad jokingly taunts.
"Ah, so we are going to bring that up," he laughs. "I think with a few more additions to the kitchen it will become a lot easier on all of us. Speaking of which," he stands and raises the narrow glass of wine that occupies his hand. I glance over to Hannah and Violet as they mouth, "Oh my God" at his tall, adonis like figure. I too am still baffled by his appearance every time I look at him. His height even more so.
I hear a slight gasp escape my mother's mouth. I should really remove all the alcohol from her immediate vicinity. Tipsy Natalie is...well, tipsy Natalie. There is no correct way in which to describe her. I guess you could say she is Natalie two point oh: more gasps and even more upbeat actions and words.
"I have an announcement to make." he peeks down at me as I look up him with a dubious stare. "I am pleased to announce that the owner and I have decided to hire on Rebecca as a part-time intern."
I scan the faces among me at the table, taking in each of their expressions as I try and figure out if Chef Brooks is in fact telling the truth. Though I doubt this is something anyone would joke about. This is my future. "I - what?"
He takes the opportunity to affirm my suspicions. "Congratulations, Rebecca." he raises his glass and quirks the corner of his lip.
***
I drove home that night on such a euphoric high that I don't think I'm going to be coming down from the after effects any time soon. Hannah, Violet and I decided to celebrate later on that night by going out for drinks and plenty of fried food to help slow down the process.
I ended up coming home in the exact state that I try to avoid: a drunken hot mess.