Page 107 of On the Line

And I let myself sink deeper and deeper into it while I continue to stare at him.

As if sensing me, he turns and catches my gaze. His face lights up when he sees me watching as if surprised to find me standing there. He blows me a quick kiss, followed by a warm smile before returning to his conversation and I don’t think I’ve ever loved such a quiet show of affection quite like this.

After our conversation last night, a lot between us feels … transformed. I’ve never felt this stable in any of my relationships, romantic or otherwise. Like I could count on Ozzy for anything. And I hope he feels the same about me.

Because like I told him last night, I’m not going anywhere.

But I also know the power of actions. Words are often too intangible. Instead, I make a quiet promise to myself, to make sure he knows that I choose him every day, even if it takes time for him to believe that he deserves me.

Even Orso feels different somehow.

When I walked into work today, I felt like my perspective had shifted. The familiar smells of the kitchen, the sound of clinking racks of glasses getting carried to the bar, the hushed laughter of my coworkers—turned friends—busy setting up the dining room.

It all somehow reminds me of the day I walked in and asked Elle for a job.

How different I was back then, insecure and impressionable.

Funny how three months can feel like a lifetime.

I owe a lot to Orso.

It gave me a life, outside of the crippling weight of my parent’s influence.

Most importantly, it gave me Ozzy.

Two hours later,I’m trying to make the table of suits pay up so I can close out. They’re visibly drunk and annoyingly loud. I walk back to their table, hoping they’ll finally hand me a credit card to charge. The married one seems to finally notice my presence and hands me the check presenter with a leering grin.

But when I reach for it, he quickly pulls it back into his chest, followed by a dark chuckle. His friends laugh like hyenas beside him. I let out a dry laugh, smilingpolitely, but secretly I’m cursing the entire table of fucking idiots.

“What kind of tip would it take for you to open those pretty legs of yours.”

I feel sick, but I act unbothered, smiling smugly.

“I have a boyfriend,” I respond flatly, holding out my hand for the check presenter.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t need to know. It’ll be our little secret.”

The table snickers and my patience frays, ready to snap.

Already facing the kitchen, I point to the pass. “Careful, he’s probably watching you flirt with his girlfriend as we speak.”

The asshole’s smile drops, his head turning to whoever I’m pointing at. I can’t even see Ozzy from my vantage point, but seeing this guy squirm is satisfying enough.

While he’s distracted, I rip the check presenter from his grip. “Gentlemen,” I say before walking away from the table with a haughty step.

On my way back to the bar, I try to tamper the triumphant grin on my lips when I see Ozzy’s head pop out of the swiveling doors. He strolls out into the dining room, one hand in his pocket as he takes a bite of a Snickers bar.

My stomach flips seeing his cocky smile, his ocean eyes blazing. “Boyfriend, huh?” he says, oh so casually, the muscles of his jaw working as he slowly chews and then swallows.

A small burst of laughter escapes me. “How did you even hear that?”

He shrugs, a mischievous expression on his face, as he looks away smugly. His gaze returns, answering my question. “Jules was behind you bussing a table.”

He steps closer to me, touching my elbow as he lowers his voice. “Did you mean it?”

I giggle. “Of course, I meant it.”

Beaming, he shoves the half-eaten chocolate bar into his pocket and takes my hand, tugging me toward him, while his free hand opens one of the kitchen doors.

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