Page 35 of Baby, It's You
I’m nervous about what you will think, so please let me know as soon as you finish the video. I am sitting here in purgatory.
I laugh at the text and respond.
It’s perfect. Post it.
Hunter sends back a thumbs-up within seconds.
One hour later I get another text from him.
I uploaded the video 42 minutes ago. It currently has 99,000 views and people have donated to the bar fund! Over $2,000 already!! This is really going to work, Olive!!!
I smile at the message and his optimism, wanting to believe it, too.
Chapter 24
Hunter
Ilook down at my phone, waiting to see if Olive has responded to the message I sent her, telling her the video is already doing well. A moment later she gives the message a heart and text bubbles appear, then go away. I wonder what she was about to say. I have been trying to think of any excuse to go up to the bar and see her again, while not wanting to come off as creepy.
Groaning, frustrated with myself and the thoughts swirling around in my head, I toss my phone on my bed and head downstairs. I walk past the kitchen to see if Dennis has shown up yet. It's been a week since he left me the note, and he hasn’t returned yet, as far as I know. I peek in the guest room and see nothing but the stack of boxes I dropped off when I first retrieved them for him. Since he doesn’t have a phone right now, to my knowledge, there’s no way for me to contact him.
Most people would probably be concerned if a family member randomly disappeared for weeks at a time, but this is just Dennis’s thing. He shows up when he needs something and abandons the situation when something better comes along. I’m just annoyed that I’m stuck with his belongings now. I guess hisIvy had the right idea when she brought up selling everything on Facebook Marketplace.
I head to my kitchen and grab some cleaner and a cloth from under the sink and take the steps down to the basement, deciding now is the perfect time to dust and shine my dad’s collectibles. When my mind won’t stop running, the only thing that makes me feel in control is cleaning. I have been known to manically clean my house after sad news. My house was always spotless after my dad got his cancer diagnosis.
Clicking on the basement light, I breathe a little easier, knowing it’s just me down here. I don't have to perform or be who anyone else wants me to be. I can cry or yell and there’s not a witness to laugh or judge me. Going over to my dad’s record player in the corner, I select a vinyl disc from the shelf and wait for the song to start. The beginning beats of “Time of the Season” by The Zombies start and I close my eyes, remembering all the times I watched my parents dance in the kitchen together to this song as a child. This was their first dance song when they got married and my dad would always dip my mom at the end of it, her eyes sparkling with joy.
Feeling myself start to get choked up, I walk to the shelf and begin gently wiping down the old metal cars. I think about Olive then, wondering what her parents are like. Did she grow up in a home like mine? One filled with love and devotion? I think back to what Mrs. Sonjia said in her kitchen about her dad and wonder what it would take for Olive to let me in, to open up to me about her past.
The more I see her, the more I want to ask her out. She’s all I can think about, but I also don't want to scare her off. I don’t want her to feel pressured to say yes to me just because I’m helping raise money. My cycle of frustration and overthinking starts again, so I clean all sixteen cars on the shelf until they are pristine and shine like a trophy.
Deciding it’s been long enough, and I’m now allowed to check my phone after I set a fake timer in my head for no reason, I click off the lights to the basement and run upstairs. I don’t care how brave or manly a guy says he is, as soon as the lights are off in a basement, he is sprinting up those stairs. Anyone that claims differently is lying.
When I get back in my room, I sit on the bed and grab my phone, happy to see Olive has texted me back.
I get to pick the next quote we explore! I’'ve already made my choice btw. Come by the bar Monday morning to film? Also, I will not let you in the door until you tell me your truck’s name. So, get on that. You have homework, Curls. (Your new nickname—it’s better than bar stool boy. I'm so nice, right?)
I laugh and reread the text five times. I really like her, and I’m screwed.
Chapter 25
Olive
Monday
Ilook in the bathroom mirror of the women’s restroom one last time before I need to go greet Hunter. He just texted me that he’s outside and I made sure to get here a little early to prep the bar in advance so I can have more time to film before we open for the day. I don’t want to feel rushed this time.
I give myself a final pep talk. “Listen up, you beautiful, stubborn, funny, hot, cool bitch.” I point at myself in the mirror. “No matter how cute his hair is today, no matter how many times he laughs at your jokes, no matter how much you want to lick his abs. You are not allowed to like Hunter! We have a mission to save the bar and you’re not going to get distracted by a stunning specimen of a man who may or may not give you fanny flutters.”
With that, I straighten my ugly work bow tie and walk out of the bathroom. I had a mini panic attack about what I should wear today and in the middle of my mental breakdown, I threw on my uniform. It’s a walking chastity belt, which is what I need right now.
I hear three knocks on the main door and quickly walk forward to open it. Hunter’s beautiful self is in the doorway, and he’s staring at me with intensity.
“Old Fart,” he says in a low, deep voice.
“Um, what?” I ask.
“That's the name of my truck,” he says matter-of-factly, and points back towards it.
