Page 21 of Life of the Party

There were no words. The tears overwhelmed and spilled down my cheeks.

I shook my head and turned from him, heading blindly down the hallway. Part of me conscious, waiting to hear him call my name, waiting to hear his footsteps in pursuit.

He couldn’t just let me go, could he?

When he never came, when he never followed, I had my answer.

I knew.

Emily had replaced me, just as I feared.

Easier than I ever could’ve imagined.

CHAPTER 9

Our night was coming to a close. I’d gone through all the motions a waitress was expected to, but I had no enthusiasm, no patience at all for any of the people surrounding me. I just wanted to go get high, higher than I’d ever been, to have a break from the doldrums and find some numbing peace in the process.

My thoughts weren’t allowed to even sneak by Riley’s name. It was all too close, and then I’d end up where I’d been for most of the day. Trying to hold back tears that would just inevitably break through.

“How you holding up, hon?” Charlie asked me, back in the relative safety of the waitress station. I’d indulged a few details, only because she demanded to know and wouldn’t accept my allergies excuse. It felt good to talk to someone, and she was surprisingly easy to talk to.

“I’m okay.” I decided. Just minus one best friend. I took a deep, shaky breath.

“Here.” She handed me the large plastic container for House dressing. “Go hide for a minute. I’ve got things under control.”

I nodded, glad for an excuse to drop the fake smile from my face. I headed through the dish pit to the large walk-in refrigerator, crammed full of sauces and supplies and fresh, chilled ingredients. I took the large black funnel from the wall and tried to remember how Sophie refilled the dressing, having never done it myself before.

A large white bucket sat on the floor, the word “House” scrawled in faded black marker. Then I remembered. I set the dressing container on the floor, taking the lid off so I could place the funnel in the top. Carefully, I removed the wide lid from the heavy dressing bucket, trying not to get covered in the thick white-green gloop in the process. By the time I had the bucket lifted and into position to pour, the funnel hadtipped sideways out of the top of the dressing container and was lying on the floor upside down. I placed it back in the container, where it rested precariously against the edge, and grasped the bucket again.

A curse escaped my lips when I noticed the black funnel upside down on the floor again. Gritting my teeth, I tried propping the funnel and container up against the wall to keep it in place. It looked like it would work, but barely had I started pouring when the funnel tipped out again, splattering dressing everywhere.

I bit my lip and cursed again, closing my eyes in frustration. Now I had a mess to clean as well. The last thing I needed.

“Fuck my fucking life.” I breathed.

It was then I heard him chuckling. I looked up in surprise and found Grey standing there at the entrance to the fridge, his arms folded on a nearby wire shelf, his head resting on his arms, his eyes wide with amusement. He’d been watching me. His blue eyes were dancing with laughter, even more beautiful than when they were sullen.

Normally very, painfully aware of him, in all my distraction I’d almost forgotten Grey was working that night. I smiled at him now though, pleasantly surprised, probably the first real smile of my whole day.

“Would you like some help?” He offered.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but then admitted. “Yes, I would. Please.”

“Here. Hold the funnel.” He sauntered over and picked up the pail as if it weighed nothing at all. I bent down and held the funnel upright for him. We worked in silence for a moment, watching as the thick dressing poured neatly into the container.

“So, what’s with you tonight?” Grey asked when he was done, flipping the pail up expertly. “Swearing like a sailor by yourself? You look like you’ve been crying all day.”

“Oh…it’s nothing.” I stammered, and I could feel myself flush bright red. “Nothing to bore you with.”

Grey shrugged, and then he smiled, sitting down on the bucket and patting an overturned milk crate beside him. “Come on. Indulge me.”

“Um…Okay.” I felt like my smile might split my face in two. I sat down beside him and tried to stay cool. Why was Grey talking to me all of a sudden?

It didn’t matter, as long as he was.

“So…?” He was close enough for me to smell not only the scents of the kitchen, but his own scent…a hint of his cologne, sweet and masculine. His blue eyes were even more intense up close, so clear and beautiful. Hypnotizing almost. He smirked, and motioned for me to tell my story. What was I upset about again? I couldn’t seem to remember. Oh, wait, of course…

“Um, well, Riley and I had a fight…sort of.” That was barely scratching the surface of what we were going through, but I thought it’d do.

---