Page 77 of Boyfriend
“Noted,” Stevie says. And when he flags down a waiter, he orders three different pizzas.
“Three? For five people?” my sister argues. They bicker about it some more while I watch the door.
But it isn’t until the pizzas are actually being delivered to our table that Abbi finally appears. I haven’t seen her in a few days, but it feels like forever, so I drink her in. Her hair shines in the lamplight. She's wearing a dress and—fuck me—lipstick.
Which makes me focus on her mouth. And all the places on my body where I’d like to see it.
Now I might not survive this meal with my family. I'm thinking about sex instead of pizza or hockey, which is unfortunate because my near-term plans include only those last two things and not the first one.
Abbi spots me, probably because I’m shooting her a hungry gaze. Her eyes find mine. And then she walks bravely toward the family who made Christmas so very awkward.
“There you are, baby!” I pop out of my chair as she approaches. “Save me from these crazy people.”
She gives me a shy smile as I pull her in for a hug. She smells like cold air and sweet perfume. “I dig the dress, but you didn’t need to dress up for a hockey game.”
“Hey, look!” my father crows. “It's the new bag in action. You look very professional, Abbi. Makes a statement.”
“Thank you,” she says, her smile warming up. “And I'm sorry I'm late, but I didn’t wear this dress for you, Weston.”
“Oooh, burn!” Stevie chuckles.
“I was actually interviewing for a job.”
“No way!” I say. “Where?”
“Let the girl sit down,” Lauren complains. “What kind of a boyfriend are you?”
Stevie snickers again.
My sister is right, of course. But I give my brother a little punch in the arm anyway, and then I pull out Abbi's chair and plate up two slices for her. “What would you like to drink?”
“Just the water,” Abbi says, pointing at the glass already awaiting her. “Thank you.”
“Now tell us about this potential job,” my dad says as I hand Abbi the plate. “How did the interview go?”
“Really well,” Abbi says. Then she gives me a nervous look that I don’t really understand. “I mean—any job offer is good news at this point. Today I got two, actually. When it rains, it pours.”
“Yes!” I'm so happy for her, because I know she's been stressed out about this. “Let’s celebrate. What are the jobs?”
She chews a bite of pizza before answering. “Well, one of them is in New York. I got an offer from a mortgage bank.”
“Mortgages are important,” my dad says. “Everyone needs a house to live in.”
“True,” Abbi says, but she looks hesitant.
“Hang on,” I hold up a hand. “Is that the place where the guy kept looking down your shirt?”
“Yeah,” she says quietly.
My sister groans. “That doesn’t sound like a great workplace. I’ve had managers like that. They never learn.”
“Which managers?” my dad asks. “Who do I have to maim?”
“Easy, killer,” Lauren says. “This was back in high school. The guy who owned that ice cream stand was kind of a creep.”
“Damn, Lauren. How come you didn’t say anything?”
She shrugs. “The tips were good, and I didn’t want you and Mom to make me quit. I stayed out of his way. But it only worked because the summer was short. If I were depending on that man to advance a career, it could have been ugly.” My sister turns to Abbi. “Do you know anyone else who works there? Like, a friend you could ask about the manager?”
