My ringtone woke me up from a second, and pleasant, dream. Alex walked with me across the school parking lot. White cotton ball clouds hung in a clear blue sky, framed by a bright sun. A warm breeze tossed my hair in sexy waves around my face. Every few steps, he stopped and tucked strands behind my ears, then smiled and recited romantic poems.
"I love you not only for what you are but for what I am when I am with you."
"I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart."
"When I saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew."
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, E.E. Cummings, and creepy Shakespeare. He wrapped each sonnet in a kind, sincere voice. I wanted to float away and never wake up.
As my ringtone continued, I mumbled incoherence. Had I gotten any sleep? My eyelids were filled with cement, taking too much effort to open them, and the rest of me screamed that I hadn't slept ten minutes.
I flopped my hand and grasped thin air. My low energy reserves pried open my eyes. Jake had a party, right? "Jake?" I accepted the call and groaned Harper's reminder, "If you had sex tonight, then you're spraying the car with Lysol and Febreeze tomorrow."
"Uhhh... It's morning. And not Jake." a familiar, pleasant male voice answered, then cleared his throat. "Hi, Elle. It's Alex."
"Alex?" I bolted upright and smoothed my hands over my bed hair. "Oh, Alex. Umm, sorry. Hey."
"Hey." His chuckle warmed my cheeks. "I was calling to see if you wanted to hit up the library this weekend for some book club candidates."
"Yeah?" I searched my tired brain for my previous engagements. "I have to work until closing tonight, and Harper-"
"It's alright," he cut in. "How about next weekend, before book club?"
While Harper defended me to her last breath, she came off a bit harsh. Well, all the time. The first time she met Alex, she warned him not to cross her or she'd have his balls strung up the school's flagpole.
Hesitant was an understatement about how Alex felt about my best friend.
"Sure." I pressed my feet onto my bedroom's soft carpet and stretched my legs. "That'd be great."
"Great," he echoed. "Guess I'll see you later? Can I visit you at work sometime?"
My heart flipped at that idea and the politeness in his warm voice. Our food was awful. This was how a boy should talk to girls. Nice. Genuine. Not one ounce of arrogance. "That'd be nice." I smiled, then we said our goodbyes and hung up.
My smile remained while I scrubbed my skin pink in the shower. It widened as the pale yellow walls in my room brightened my mood. I pulled the frayed edges of my quilt under the pillows and traced a white daisy, but I wrinkled my nose at the sight of my uniform laid out. The black pants were itchy and starchy no matter how many times Mom and I washed them. Despite being an extra small size, my short legs required me to roll up the pant cuffs. A most unflattering pleat ballooned my hips.
Logan towered over me... We were almost eye-to-eye.
A scowl tugged my mouth down. My only regret when blocking his number was that I would miss his reaction. With a school more than forty minutes away, our chances of bumping into each other were almost zero. Thankfully. "Logan, you are something else. I'll give you that." I stared at my screen for a minute before I tossed my phone next to the most hideous work uniform shirt.
Why had he called me Ellie? There's no way he knew how Ryder ruined that nickname for me.
Better than baby.
I pushed aside those thoughts and picked up my shirt. Blinding red and white vertical stripes were embarrassing enough, but additional adornments of giant blood-red pepperoni circles hung off the front. It looked like a failed elementary school art project. If I moved the shirt low enough, the pepperonis became giant nipple pasties.
The cheap polyester getup itched my skin. Not even a cute ponytail out of the back of my greasy black hat helped. I ran a visual check on this embarrassing getup, which hung on me like a clown suit. Nametag? Check. Continuous blackmail material for Jake? Check.
"Ellie?" Mom's dark-haired head poked out of the kitchen. Her dark brown eyes, the same color as mine and Jake's, peered at my entrance. "Jake said you weren't feeling well?"
I picked up an apple from the kitchen's fruit bowl. "Beach side effects."
"Right," she said with a dry voice and skeptical glance. Her bright red lips pursed at my awful uniform. "You are not my California baby. Are we all on for meatball rolling Sunday?"
With heavy footsteps, Jake bounded into the kitchen. "Can't make it."
His damp hair and much-improved smell indicated he had used the shower after me. He grabbed my apple on his way to the fridge.
"Hey!" I lifted my eyebrows.
"Hey," Jake greeted me with a sloppy grin, took a big chomp out of my apple, then handed it back with Jake's germs.
"Thanks, Jake." I tossed the apple into the trash and pulled out another one. "I'm on for Sunday, Mom. Harper mentioned poetry hour at the coffee house, so can we do it in the morning?"
She smiled at me. "That's fine, Ellie."
"Poetry hour or drooling over poets?" Jake's eyes glinted, and his mouth curled up into a smirk.
"Poetry." I glared at him. "It's possible to attend something without the sole motivation being a person of the opposite sex." Not that he'd know.
His smirk widened until a small dimple on his left cheek appeared. "I meant Harper." He had me there. Harper could pick up a guy while pumping gas or... breathing air.
I released my glare as Mom's interrogation turned to him. "What's on Sunday, Jake?"
"Film day with Coach." His biceps rounded as he crossed his arms and shifted on his feet. "Pre-camp drills and playbook planning. Game six is Salesian. Our bye week is the week before, so we have a lot of time to practice beforehand."
"Pre-camp?" I snickered.
While least qualified to describe football, I knew Jake was a very calculated captain. He spent a lot of time on play development, play calling, and conditioning drills. In addition to the offensive team's practice, he also attended the defensive and special teams ones and worked out six days a week. Both the laundry stink and family obligations yanked by his schedule were proof.
"Salesian, hmm?" Dad shuffled both into the kitchen and the conversation with his eyes fixed on Jake. "Their quarterback's stats are damn near identical to yours."
"Good test for the team." Jake nodded with a sigh. "And yeah, their quarterback is decent. He only had three fumbles all last season."
The rare flash of humility looked nice on Jake. It was gone in a blink as his eyes hardened at me. "Hightower."
Oh. Oh. Him.
My eyes widened and I rounded my lips in another silent 'Oh.' Guilt seeped into my stomach and dried my mouth. I hadn't told Jake about... whatever the fuck didn't happen between me and Logan. Or how I had forty-seven followers, of which I knew three.
Now wasn't the time to tell him, and never was my preference. I wrapped my arms around his waist and gave him a tight hug. "I'm sure he's not as amazing as you."
Jake rolled his eyes and shoved me away. "I hope so," was all he said. "All their offensive starters are returning. My top receiver is supposed to be a sophomore rookie."
Dad's voice preceded his entrance. "You still have Meade."
I scoffed at his reference to Kieran. "Excuse me. I need to get to work."
"Whatever you need, we'll support you," Mom said to Jake. When Dad nodded, I rolled my eyes at the 'family solidarity for Jake' and made my way outside to another grease-filled work shift. Time to grease up.
Birds chirped a symphony from our crabapple tree, and then rustled the leaves with their takeoff. The front door banged behind me, where Jake's large frame was freakishly large on the small cement front porch. "Ellie, I'll take you."
"Hurry up." I hopped into his passenger seat. Once he sat behind the wheel, I frowned at his grin. "Whatever you need the car for, use Lysol and Febreeze after."
Jake shrugged and backed out of our driveway and into the cul-de-sac. "Nah, rookie babysitting. I gotta pick up a couple of guys for their first film session."
"No hazing." I jabbed his shoulder, not that Jake listened to me. "Pick me up at the closing time."
"No hazing," he parroted with a high-pitched imitation. "Pepperoni tits."
"More driving, less insulting please." I closed my eyes during the short, peaceful drive. Only the sound of radio music and Jake's finger taps filled my ears.
When he turned into the parking lot, I rolled my lower lip under my teeth and bit down. "Care to explain what happened at the beach?"
If Jake had any feelings about threatening Logan, he masked them with an indifferent shrug. "Not really. I've forgotten about it already."
"I haven't." I narrowed my eyes at his profile. "What did he do?"
His eyes shifted to me, in a look best described as he thought I was stupid. But he wrenched the steering wheel. "The tool put his hands on you."
I replayed that moment a few times, looking for clues as to why he made Jake so unhinged. It had nothing to do with the tingles I got when I remembered Logan's lips near my ear. Nope. "To see if I was okay after getting sick."
Jake frowned and his knuckles turned white. "Drop it, Ellie."
"I'll drop it when you drop your temper."
With a crank of the wheel, he pulled up to Pizza Palace and sighed. The same guilt appeared in his eyes whenever I attempted this conversation. "Ellie-"
"Jake," I interrupted his autopilot 'I wasn't there' self-sabotaging excuse. "I don't need you getting in trouble for beating up random guys for me."
"I hate him," Jake muttered, clenching his teeth and staring ahead with anger burning his eyes. "Since the first moment that I saw him take the field two years ago. He's so fucking arrogant, conceited, showboating -"
"Because that doesn't sound like you at all," I teased.
"He's worse than me." Jake clenched his teeth harder until a tiny dent appeared in his jawline. "Look, Ellie... There are shit rumors about that team. Ones about playing with girls and tossing them aside for points. I don't want you anywhere near that shit."
"If they're true." I frowned because, as a personal victim myself, Jake should know better than to form opinions on gossip-based perception.
"I have a feeling there's truth in this one," he mumbled and shifted his eyes to the restaurant. "You'd better go. See you tonight."
Knowing I wouldn't get any more answers, I nodded and waved goodbye.
"Welcome to Pizza Palace," I relayed in a monotone and tired voice. "Your pizza is our palace pleasure."
Yes, I had to say that. Word for embarrassing word. My forced narrative was mandatory not only because I was paid to say those awkward as fuck words, but Derrick sat about fifteen feet from me. With a lift of his unruly red curls, he gave me a 'Next time be more genuine' frown. The back of my neck burned from the food lamps between the counters and the kitchen. Aches throbbed in my feet and I shifted them on the tiled floors, perpetually covered with a fine layer of flour and cornstarch.
"Large pizza on gluten-free cauliflower crust with the works, four salads, and four sodas," a teasing, female, monotonous tone replied. A familiar pair of blue-gray eyes glimmered at me.
My stomach clenched. I hated when kids from school came here. And this one was the queen. She'd better not be here for Jake. "Camille." I clenched my fists under the counter at her manicured appearance and, thankfully, clothed appearance. "That'll be twenty-six fifty."
"How's Jake?" A smug smile spread across her stupid, model-perfect, heart-shaped face with stupid porcelain-smooth skin, thick lashes, crystal blue eyes with a gray overcast, and pouty lips that reminded me of a Botox bee sting. False sympathy coated her syrupy voice. "He didn't look so hot at the party."
And whose fault was that? Hers, based on that perma-smug. My teeth ground as I resisted the urge to fling myself over the counter and strangle her. Instead, I tapped the credit card reader. What had Jake ever seen in her? The two giant melons that flounced over her chest?
Nevermind.
"You want to know the best part?" Her eyes flashed again like she revealed a deep secret. "I don't even like Kieran."
Of course, she didn't. Not that I did either, but playing with Jake's feelings was a game to her. Pitting him against his best friend was a new low for her, but Kieran had no complaints as he massaged her funbags. "Good for you." Tap, tap, tap clicked my nail. "Twenty-six fifty."
"He wouldn't stop gushing over you. Elle this, Elle that." She hammered her pointless effort home, as if... whatever she and Kieran were mattered to me. "But I made sure you were the last thing on his mind."
"Twenty-six fifty, please." My irritation rose with each word, not from her attempts to irritate me but from her vanilla perfume overwhelming the kitchen smells.
Satisfied with her digs into me, she ran her card. It printed a receipt, which I handed to her. "No thanks." She flicked her nails in a dismissive gesture, followed by a smirk.
I'd never associated vanilla with self-satisfaction because Harper used a similarly scented shampoo, but Camille reeked of both. With a silent turn, I balled up the receipt and prepared a clean plastic tray with utensils and napkins. "Twenty minutes." I shoved the tray across the counter. Too bad the corner missed her right ovary.
Her baby pink nails flashed as she flipped her hair. Tray in hand, she rolled her hips in an exaggerated sway and giggled with each click of her four-inch heels. Reaching her corner table, she sat with an identical group of manicured bimbos. Why were they even here?
A smile tugged across my lips as I assembled their salads and mentally sprinkled our house specialty ghost pepper dust over them. The job was quintessential shitty teenager hourly wage work. Fortunately, not many kids came here since the pizzas had a very processed taste. The cardboard to-go boxes tasted better.
College savings, Ellie. One shitty shift at a time.
My accumulated savings money made me smell like mass-produced ingredients and watered-down tomato sauce and my skin being coated with a greasy film was worth the ick factor. It wasn't for my ten percent discount. I worked here forty hours a week all summer and twenty hours a week during school. While other kids took their breaks and vacations, I worked here.
"Elle, table ten." Steve's voice called from the kitchen. His wrinkles doubled with his smile, making him look old enough to be my grandfather. At the sight of my approach, the table of blonde- and brown-haired heads whispered and giggled like they shared one brain cell.
"Eleanor?" Camille's friend's voice grated on my ears as sandpaper and pushed her glass to me. "Don't you have any diet tea?"
"Diet tea?" I echoed and placed their tray down. "No."
"Then I'd like a refund on our drinks." Camille flicked a few blown-out blonde strands over her shoulder. All glasses were pushed to me.
College, college, college. My nostrils twitched as I rolled my lips in. "Derrick?" I waved him over. "Table ten wants a refund on four sodas."
"Fine but -" His eyes dropped to my phone tucked in my pocket. "No phones at work, Elle."
"It's on silent," I mumbled as my cheeks flushed warm.
One of his long, pale-skinned arms extended to the table area. "Go clean the lobby."
I grumbled at the punishment and took the slowest possible steps to the cleaning cabinet. After I pulled out a bottle of spray cleaner and a clean towel, I wiped down all the black and white checkered tables and black chairs. A conscious effort kept me away from corner table number ten. If I cleaned slowly enough, then Camille's bimbo squad would eat their three bites and leave.
"Elle, trash." Derrick's pale finger pointed at an overflowing can.
I puffed my cheeks puffed out on a forced exhale and retrieved a clean trash bag. The number of non-Pizza Palace trash items never ceased to amaze me. Oh, eww! Was that a diaper? "So gross." The smell wafted across my face as I smashed the overflowing trash down and mouth-breathed to escape it. Definitely a diaper.
Outside, I tied off and clutched the bulging bag in my fists. My wrists shook under its weight and I walked bowlegged across the lot with the hopes that it didn't leak on my shoes. The phone in my pocket buzzed in the trash dump area. I flung the sagging, rancid bag with a grunt.
Harper: I'm grounded. No more coffee house.
Harper: Try to be disappointed about that.
I wasn't disappointed, only confused. Harper stuck to her curfew, so what the hell had she done now? My low-wage money was on a boy. I ducked behind the trash area door. Awful smells were worth the Derrick privacy.
Me: Do I want to know why?
Harper: Dad caught me with a boy. We were only kissing.
Harper: Total 🍆 block.
Only Harper.
Me: Sorry to hear that.
She didn't answer, which meant her Dad took her phone privileges too. The rest of my shift called me back inside, which I returned to on dragged feet. Two hours left.
***
"Hi, Ellie."
Mixed feelings stirred in me from Jake's greeting. I turned from the herd of napkin dispensers I refilled to his tall frame at the counter. Normally, I was ecstatic to see him because it meant my shift was soon over. But today, aches in my shoulders and hips reminded me of my lack of sleep. My shoulders slumped, my eyelids drooped, and a dull headache throbbed in my forehead. From the first minute my shift started to the last heel click of Camille's friends to our dinner rush, I counted down the remaining minutes.
Jake pinched his nose. "You stink, Ellie."
He wasn't wrong. The two customers before him insisted on extra anchovies. A stuck can lid meant I wore the stinky tiny fish instead of the pizza. A greasy film coated my skin, which I couldn't wait to wash off with the fish stinks and crawl into bed. "Can't say I appreciate you pointing that out - oh, shit."
Kieran's blonde head appeared behind Jake. He flinched with a cough, which showed a faded purple and brown bruise under his left eye. Fuck, Jake had hit him. Kieran's eyes averted under my glare and he shifted his weight. Based on Jake's casual expression and relaxed shoulders, those two were chill with each other.
How? Why?
I'll never understand boys.
A third boy stood back, younger, leaner, and a little bit shorter. He wore the same Cardinals' varsity jacket as Jake and Kieran, but his smaller shoulders were a coat hanger in comparison to them. His ducked-down head gave me a clear view of his medium brown hair stuck in random directions. His kind, warm brown eyes averted down and a slight pink blush sat on his cheeks, the innocent look of a newbie that hadn't yet gone through Jake's hazing.
His new wide receiver.
Jake's eyes were glued to mine as he not-complimented me in a dry, flat voice, "Ellie, you also look like shit."
I rounded my back and leaned my elbows on the counter with a scowl, "No different than any other day." My pepperoni pieces had shifted. They covered my nipples but pointed in different directions. I adjusted my shirt with a sigh.
"Sorry," Jake said with a sheepish grin. "I meant you look tired."
"Hmm, wonder why?" I palmed my hips. "Maybe if I hadn't had to deal with a certain someone's late-night escapades, then I would've gotten some more sleep."
"I'll make it up to you." He closed his left eye in a wink and turned to the boy next to him. "This is Brody. He's my new wide receiver. Brody, my sister, Ellie but everyone else calls her Elle."
"Hi, Brody." I gave him a small wave. "Nice to meet you before my brother corrupts your innocent, impressionable mind."
"Hi, Elle." Brody's soft voice barely reached my ears, but it pinched my heart. An extra pinch was the pink blush that filled his cheeks.
I shifted my eyes back to my brother. "Usual times three?"
Jake nodded, so I rang up his meat-obsessed order bigger than a small family needed, grabbed their drinks, and put up an order slip for three large carnivore pizzas. Close to closing time, Derrick and I were the only ones here. I slapped on my eightieth pair of plastic gloves, rolled out three dough forms, and sprinkled sauce and heaps of toppings on them. Pepperoni, ham, sausage, bacon, chicken, and beef. The more meat, the better. "Except anchovies." My lips pulled into a grin as I doubled up the cheese and skipped the stinky fish.
Twenty minutes later, I dropped three pizzas in front of three salivating boys. "Enjoy."
Every fiber in my body screamed relief once my shift ended. My nose twitched from our bleach cleaner as my palm rubbed the counter one last time. My purse bounced on my hip as my heavy feet shuffled to Jake, Kieran, and Brody's table. A few crumbs sat where their pizzas were. And, of course, no fat on them.
Jake's eyebrows lifted at my entrance. "Ready to go?"
My head bobbed since idle customer chat left my lips dry, throat sore, and brain fried. I cleared my throat and croaked out with my last ounce of energy, "Please."
"Actually, Elle? I was wondering if I could take you home." Kieran's large frame shifted in his seat.
I turned my head to Jake so Kieran couldn't see the gigantic 'No' my mouth formed. Whatever he had to say, I didn't want to hear it.
Loud laughs escaped Jake's mouth. Thankfully, he said, "Nah, I owe her. Let's go, Ellie."