Page 14 of The Freshman

Alfie rolled his eyes. “It’s your jobto take his name. You write it on the cups.”

Tia smiled, and her bright blue eyessparkled. The complete opposite to Nate’s. She pushed herself backinto her chair and dug her hand into her pocket. The crumped cupshe retrieved had obviously been used. She wrestled to unfold it,then showed Alfie the scrawled letters and numbers.

“Chris, you have Chris’snumber.”

She nodded. “You should have seen him,you would’ve thought he was attractive too, a pretty guy. I knowguys don’t usually like being called pretty, but hewas.”

Alfie bowed at the word and studiedthe last slosh of coffee in his cup. Pretty. He would’ve scoffedand grimaced at someone calling him pretty weeks ago, but when Natesaid it he blushed and shuffled about like atwelve-year-old.

“Tia, your break’sfinished.”

She turned to her boss, still smilingbrightly, and her platinum hair caught the edge of her cup, tippingit over. Strawberry milkshake went everywhere, covering the tableand part of the floor.

“Whoops,” Tia said,slapping her hand to her mouth.

Alfie scrunched his face and grittedhis teeth, expecting Tia’s boss to go crazy, but she just waggedher finger and tutted like Tia was a clumsy child.

“I’ll just get that,” shesaid, then walked back to the counter, swaying her hips as shewent.

Alfie raised an eyebrow at Tia. “Whatthe fuck was that?”

Tia chuckled and slid her chair underthe table. “The perks of having a boss that fanciesyou.”

“If only,” Alfiemumbled.

He might’ve progressed to day shifthad Ryan been interested, but instead the only interest came from atriple murderer who purred suggestively into his celldoor.

Alfie finished the rest of his coffee,then waved to Tia from the door. He strolled along the pavement,tracking the people that passed. Despite working in a prison atsuch a young age, Alfie still fit the eighteen-year-old malestereotype. A favorite activity on the weekend was to sit on abench in the park and watch the exercise enthusiasts jog by. Tiainvited him on nights out, which usually ended with him tradingsaliva and hands with some guy in a bar.

On rare occasions it ended withsomeone in Alfie’s bed, but he set clear boundaries. It was aone-night thing that would never lead to more. The thought oftrusting someone soured his stomach.

When he was a kid waiting in thefoster home, he readied himself to be loved and cherished, but itnever came. The system taught kids to be reliant on others, andhope they were chosen to be loved. It turned good kids sad, and badkids worse. Alfie promised himself never to trust someone with hisheart. It had already been broken enough.

At the end of the path, Alfie stoppedand frowned. Not one guy he passed had stirred his interest, evenwhen they looked him in the eye and smiled back. Even the suitedman with the well-trimmed beard and wavy hair didn’t flutter hisinsides.

He shook his head, and hissed,“Stupid.”

****

Alfie tapped the side of his fist toQueenie’s door, and he immediately responded. Alfie no longerblinked in surprise at the voice. In fact, he looked forward to thesofter-spoken tone.

“Thanks,Queenie.”

He sighed, then stepped up to Nate’sdoor.

“Have you ever noticed theback of Henry’s head looks like a face?”

A smile crept across Alfie’s face, andhe sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to stop it.

“When he worked days, andI was tired, I had a whole conversation with the back of his head,made eye contact and everything.”

He stopped the laugh from his mouth,but he couldn’t stop the snort of amusement from his nose. Natelaughed too, and Alfie gave up the pretense.

“How can you have made eyecontact?” He laughed, ticking Nate’s name.

“The wrinkles are so deep,I swear they look like eyes, and he’s got this horizonal one thatlooks like a mouth. The back of his head looks like a meltedface.”

“I’ll tell him you saidthat, shall I?”

---