Page 60 of The Breakup

Only that wasn’t going to happen.

Her nostrils flared. She picked up the tray. “Fine. Be that way. I was just trying to be nice anyway.”

Bella had gotten a little better at the burn. I had to admit, I was kind of kicked in the dick by that, even though I suspected she was just trying to get to me. “You’re better at that than I am.”

The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk. “True, that.”

She lifted her tray and walked away and I hated myself.

Bella was the first girl in just about forever I actually cared about, and every move I made was completely the wrong one.

The problem with never being in relationships was that now I might actually want one and I had no clue how to go about it.

When Thomas came behind the bar again I asked him, “So, do you think I have a shot?”

I didn’t explain any further. He knew exactly what I was talking about.

He clapped me on the back while I wiped the beer gutter. “You’d have better odds playing the lottery, kid.”

Figured. I rolled my eyes and tried not to take it personally. “That’s what I thought,” I told him. “Thanks for confirming.”

“No problem.” He walked off whistling.

That didn’t explain why I followed her outside when she went on her break. It was dark out there and I was worried about where she was going. Or at least that’s what I told myself. It was only half the truth. I wanted to talk to her. About what, I had no idea. I just couldn’t get her out of my head.

“What are you doing?” I asked her, stepping out the back door to where the Dumpster was. She was standing there looking at her phone.

She jumped. “You scared me.”

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself. It’s ten o’clock at night.”

“I know what time it is. I just wanted a breath of fresh air.”

“By the Dumpster?”

She rolled her eyes. “Now who is stalking who?”

That irritated me. “I never said stalking. I said you must miss me.”

“Well, clearly you miss me too.”

I did. “Because I don’t want you to get mugged or raped in a parking lot?” Oh my God, what the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just admit that I cared about her?

“I’m texting Sophie. She’s supposed to be picking me up after work. We’re sharing a car until I can go back to Boston and get mine.”

“Why are you staying here?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me. It was going to be sweet torture. “If you don’t mind me asking?”

The look she gave me was long and searching. I thought she was going to say something haughty, but instead she shrugged. “I needed a change of scenery. I don’t have an apartment or a job in Boston, so I’m here debating my next move.”

I nodded. I could totally understand that. “I can give you a ride home if you want.”

But she just smiled. “No, thank you.”

—

“How was it?” Sophie asked when she picked me up.

Contrary to Christian’s apparent opinion of me, I was a hard worker. I had been a server in college because while my parents were happy to pay my tuition, my father thought I could learn valuable lessons from having to earn my spending money. I had always enjoyed it. Customers like me. I’m friendly without being flirty and I never get impatient. I was born to serve, in the ultimate of ironies.

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