Page 21 of Time for Change

“Come on, Romeo. We have a job to do. Flirting with the hot server will have to wait until later,” he informs me, walking past and stepping into the break room.

With a sigh, I’m left with no choice but to follow. We have a job to do, and it doesn’t involve talking to the pretty server. The one who is monopolizing way too many of my thoughts since I met her on Wednesday.

***

“How’s it going in here?”

I spin around and find Stevie standing in the doorway. The smile on her lips has my entire body on high alert, noticing how gorgeous it is and how easily it causes my heart to beat a little faster. “Good. We’re almost done.”

She enters the large space holding a plate of food, careful to stay on the outskirts of the room. “I just wanted to grab something from my bag,” she says, going to the row of lockers.

“You don’t have to leave. You can eat,” I tell her, flipping on the light. “You can even see now.”

She grins. “I don’t want to be in the way. I’m just taking a quick break before I finish my shift.”

“You’re not in the way,” I insist, waiting until she sets her plate down on the table before adding, “But your food is making me hungry. We worked through lunch, and that smells amazing.”

Stevie spins around. “Do you want some of my fries?”

“No,” I insist. “Go ahead. I think I’m going to order myself a burger when we’re done here.”

She nods, taking a seat at the table. From her position, she can watch me gather up our supplies. It doesn’t take long, since we usually keep our workspace tidy as we proceed through the job. It just makes it easier than doing it all at the end.

Before she takes a bite of her food, she lifts the sleeve of her shirt and tries to itch her wrist without actually scratching it. “I wasn’t expecting this to itch so bad,” she mutters, trying to tap what looks like a fresh tattoo.

I give her my complete attention as I reply, “That’s the worst part, besides the initial sting of the needle.”

“The paper said some itching was likely while it heals, but this is driving me crazy.”

“It probably doesn’t help that your sleeve rubs against it,” I reason, taking a good look at the tattoo now that she’s not messing with it. It’s nothing big or elaborate. Just a simple black outlined piece with some wording beneath it.

I find myself wanting to get a closer look, so I take a few steps forward until I can see the tattoo in more detail. I can’t exactly read the words, especially since it’s upside down, but I can tell it’s a sun and crescent moon. “First one?”

She nods. “Yeah. Just got it on Wednesday,” she replies, gazing down at it with a smile.

“Jax or BJ?”

“BJ.”

I nod. “I have one from her. Two from Jax.”

“Yeah? You have tattoos?” she asks, her eyes darting to scan any exposed skin she can see.

“Three,” I confirm, unnecessarily. “One on my upper arm and two on my chest.” All places she can’t see with my shirt on.

“I can see why everyone says they’re addictive. This one isn’t even healed yet, and I’m already thinking about my next one.”

Chuckling, I pull out the chair across from her and take a seat. She didn’t invite me, and I have more work to do, but I’m drawn to her in a way I’ve never experienced. “They can be addictive. I got my first one at nineteen and couldn’t wait for my second.”

“Did you get it right away?”

“Nope,” I answer. “Listen, I wanted to tell you…I thought about calling you,” I stammer, not really knowing what to say, yet feeling like I need to address the situation.

She dips two fries into the blob of ketchup and shoves them into her mouth. When she’s done chewing, she says, “It’s okay. If you don’t want to call, you don’t have to.”

“I do,” I blurt out, trying to calm my eagerness down a bit. “It’s just, well, you seem pretty young.”

“I’m twenty,” she states, bringing her sandwich to her mouth and taking a bite.

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