Page 28 of Inception

“Not usually on Sundays.” Zane responded without looking.

“Could have used an extra waiter,” I noted quietly. “Where’s Trace today anyway?” I asked and then nearly kicked myself for it.

“He doesn’t work the lunch shift,” said Zane, and then lifted one of his arched eyebrows. “Why? Did you miss him?”

Insta-defense set in. “No. I couldn’t care less. I’m just curious about the work schedule, that’s all.”

Work schedule? That sounded lame, even to me.

“Sure,” he said, not even bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Me thinks the girl doth protest too much.”

I reverted to kindergarten coping skills and made a face.

“Do you like it so far?” asked Paula, her voice low and timid. “The job, I mean.”

I nodded, picking up a stack of veggies with my fork. “Sure. It’s alright. Not that I have anything to compare it to.”

“Wait.” Zane lifted his hand in the air dramatically. “Are you saying we popped your cherry here?” He leaned in closer, his skin a perfectly tanned gold.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Do you hear yourself? I refuse to dignify that with an answer.”

“Dignify what with an answer?” asked Trace as he walked up from behind. His shirt was dotted with droplets of rain and clinging to his shoulders in an interesting way.

Not that I was staring.Much.

“Nothing,” I said as I tried not to look when he slicked his hair back and leaned onto the counter beside me.

“Her cherry,” blurted Zane. “We popped her cherry.”

I turned pomegranate red.

“You what?” Trace looked over at me uneasily, his own cheeks slightly darker than before. “What’s he talking about?”

“He’s trying to be funny.Tryingbeing the operative word,” I explained and then quickly added, “It’s my first job,” as though that cleared up the whole thing.

It didn’t.

Zane jumped in. “First job. Cherry. Virgin territory—”

Trace lifted his hand to stop him. “Thanks, I got it.”

Awkward.

“Is April here yet?” asked Trace, undoubtedly needing to change the subject in a massive way.

“I think she’s in the office,” answered Paula.

“Thanks.” He bounced his striking blues off of me once more and then took off for the back office.

I dropped my eyes to my plate. When I looked up again, Zane was grinning ear to ear.

“What?” I snapped, already defensive.

“What is that? What’s going on there?” he said, ticking his head towards Trace. “I’m sensing a littleje ne sais quoi.”

“You’re high on spray-tan fumes.”

He smacked his lips. “Mm hmm.”

---