Page 40 of Boyfriend
“I know! I wouldn’t really do it,” she says, grinning. “But getting this bonus is like a crusade for me, now. It’s more than just fifteen hundred bucks. It’s an investment of a year. I’ve earned it. I want it. And no weasel-faced manager is going to get in my way.”
“Have you started counting down the days?”
“I’m going to. Tonight. Right after we hang flyers all over the campus. In the December cold. At midnight.” She rolls her eyes. “At least the event looks fun.” She grabs a flyer and holds it up so I can see.
The Biscuit’s Raucous New Year’s Eve: Featuring Live Music from The Hardwick Boys
Midnight countdown. Two-for-one wings 6p-9p. Join the party!
“Well, the tips will be great,” I point out. “If people are drinking their faces off from nine until midnight.”
“Yeah,” she says with a sigh. “Wouldn’t it be nice to go out on New Year’s like a normal person, though?”
I shrug, because I don’t even know who I’d go out with.
“Maybe Weston will come,” Carly says, her eyes brightening.
“Maybe. The hockey team is on campus already. They don’t get a long Christmas break.”
“That’s right,” she hoots. “Your new boyfriend probably told you their schedule.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t make me regret telling you that story.”
“So table seventeen might be hopping on New Year’s.” Her smile is brilliant. “Has he called you since you guys got back?”
“No, but why would he?” I shrug.
Her smile goes dreamy. “Because he probably misses you. I bet he woke up the day after Christmas and thought about you. He probably wants to reenact your fake sex scene for real. I bet he’s still thinking about it.”
“That’s not how my life works,” I mutter.
“It should be,” Carly says, tossing the last silverware roll into the bin.
“How fast do you think we can hang up twenty fliers after work?” I ask.
“Let’s hang up ten and recycle the rest,” she whispers.
“But if New Year’s is a flop, we won’t get good tips,” I point out.
“Fine,” she says, standing up to tie on her apron. “But it won’t be a flop. I just know it.”
* * *
Four nights later, I find out she’s right.
There’s a sweet spot to waitressing. When the place is dead, I get bored and make too little in tips. But when the place is slammed, the customers get crabby and I get stressed out. In the middle zone is where this job is really pretty great. When the stars align, you can have happy customers and fat tips as the hours fly by.
And then there’s New Year’s Eve. I’ve never seen the Biscuit so crowded. Every table is taken, and it’s standing room only at the bar. Every available staff member is on shift, and I heard they started a new bouncer tonight just to double up on security.
The clientele is in a good mood, though, and The Hardwick Boys sound terrific. It’s tricky to hear the patrons shout their orders over the music, but I don’t even mind. The lively atmosphere and the holiday tips make it all worthwhile.
And—even better—table seventeen is chock-full of hockey players, including my favorite one. Every time I drop off a beer or even pass by, Weston gives me a warm smile.
I’m trying not to pay too much attention. I’m a busy girl. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him all week. Spending time together as friends has only made him more appealing.
And sometimes? I think he’s attracted to me, too. Am I crazy, or does he keep glancing at me? Or did I dream that?
I did. I dreamt it. Weston isn’t shy. If he wanted me, he’d just say so.
