Page 37 of A Pizza My Heart

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I’mon hour eighteen of my workday, and after draining three cups of coffee, I’m finally starting to feel like myself again, that weird yucky feeling long gone.

It’s been the day that never ends, but thirty minutes until close has me feeling giddy, all things considered.

I push together the butter knife and fork, rolling them tight inside the napkin, folding the little paper around the middle and securing it tightly.

Repeat action. Repeat again. And again.

Drew’s yammering on beside me, but I honestly have no clue what she’s talking about, having lost track of the conversation long ago.

I interject a “Yeah” or “Uh-huh” or “No way” every few minutes so she thinks I’m still paying attention. So far, it’s worked.

I’m lost in my work, but not enough to miss the bell chiming as someone pushes open the front door.

“Ugh. Seriously?” I gripe. “We close in thirty freakin’ minutes and there’s not a single customer in the place. Can’t we just have this last thirty minutes to ourselves? There always has to be one…”

“Uh, Wren, you’re going to want to see thisone.”

The way she says it causes me to look up from what I’m doing, and the sounds of silverware clattering to the floor bounces off the otherwise quiet walls as I see who’s just walked in.

“Aren’t you supposed to be balls deep inside your hot date right now?”

Foster chuckles, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “Thank you for that vivid description, Drew.” He lifts a shoulder. “Didn’t work out with Carly.”

Ah, that’s her name.

“What? How?” I ask.

He shrugs again then stuffs his hands into his pockets, making his way to the bar and taking a seat directly across from me. He grabs a stack of napkins, paper holders, and a few pieces of silverware then begins rolling them like he’s done it a thousand times before. Considering Foster used to work here all throughout high school and college, it’s safe to say he has.

“I don’t know. She just wasn’t my type, I think.”

“That’s silly. She was smart, funny, and beautiful to boot. Plus she laughed at your stupid jokes.”

He nods. “All true, but she just felt more like…a sister or something. Not someone I want to get involved with.”

“So like me then,” I say.

Foster’s hands halt all movements and his green eyes clash with my own. My breathing stops. Everything just…stops.

He sits there, just staring at me, eyes serious and unblinking. It’s like one of the stares I tend to give him, only I don’t think he’s trying to read my mind. It’s like he’s trying to do something else, say something else…but his mouth never opens. It’s all in his gaze.

He blinks once, twice.

I exhale.

Then he’s back to wrapping the silverware in napkins like he never stopped to begin with.

“Sure. Just like that.”

Drew blows out a breath beside me like she was holding hers too then she shakes her head, mumbling something indecipherable.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” I eventually tell him.

“Me too.” He laughs contemptuously. “This dating shit is for the birds. I think I might have to take a break. I mean, four failed dates in one week? That’s gotta be a sign.”

“You could try changing your shirt,” I tease.

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