Page 1 of I Would Stay Forever
one
I always thought havinga summer job would be fun. I imagined myself working at a camp or as a lifeguard by the pool, getting perfectly tanned and meeting cute boys to hang out with after my shift. Instead, I was sweating to death in a coffee shop, wearing an apron that is the ugliest shade of orange I’d ever seen, and being badgered by my best friend who had nothing better to do on her summer break than come bother me at work.
“Please, Lavender,” Zoey begged. She stayed on the opposite side of the counter but followed my steps as I walked to the other end to drop off dirty mugs and grab a rag. She was following me around so much that I felt like I should just invite her to the employee side of the counter and put her to work.
“I already said no.” I spun back around to the front counter, hoping that there would be a customer there to serve so I could get her off my back, but the place was almost empty now. The lunch rush had just ended, and while I was exhausted from the line of people that had been here and was happy to have a bit of a break, Zoey talking my ear off wasn’t really helping the peace.
Now that I wasn’t pacing all over the place, she sat at one of the two stools at the end of the high counter. She’d claimed the spot on the first day of my job here and had remained therepretty much every day of the summer. It was almost the end of July, and somehow she still wasn’t bored of it.
“All the hot football players will be there,” she said in a singsong voice.
“I don’t care,” I responded in the same tone.
“Don’t you want to see them wash your car?” she continued as if I didn’t say anything.
Honestly, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less.
“I don’t have a car,” I reminded her.
She rolled her eyes. “You can borrow your mom’s.”
I ignored the suggestion and put my hands on my hips as I studied Zoey. I felt a little bad for saying no. All she wanted was for her best friend to come hang out with her. But I was schedule to work on Saturday, and after spending all day working on my feet, the last thing I wanted to do was go ogle some guys with her.
“I might actually get the evening to myself for once,” I said. “Sebastian will be playing football at the school?—“
“I thought Sebastian played soccer,” Zoey interrupts. I sigh, shooting her a glare. “Oh, right. Football is what you call soccer. Sorry. Continue.”
“And the twins are definitely going to this car wash thing,” I continue as if she never interrupted me. “Hey, why don’t you just become friends with them and watch together?”
My tone took on a teasing lilt by the end, but she narrowed her eyes at me all the same.
“I’m not trying to befriend your little sisters, Lavender.”
“Why not?” I asked. “They’re great.”
Greatwas a subjective term. I loved them to death, but I also hated them about half the time when they were stealing my clothes, hogging the shower, or yelling down the hall to each other instead of just walking to each other’s rooms like normalhuman beings. But again, I would kill for them. It’s an odd relationship, the one of sisters.
“Because I’m already best friends with you,” Zoey reminded me, poking a finger in my general direction.
“You’ll have more fun without me,” I promised her. “I’m not interested in checking out football players.” I don’t clarify American Football since I know she’ll get annoyed. “They’re not my type.”
“Well, what a shame for me,” a male voice came from behind me.
I spun around so fast that my ponytail hit my cheek. I’d been so focused on talking to Zoey that I’d almost forgotten I was working and I had my back to the cash register. Dean Graham was now standing in front of it, a crumpled five-dollar bill in his hand and a smirk on his face.
“Sorry,” he said, gesturing between me and Zoey. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the conversation.”
“You didn’t,” I said, even though I knew he was making fun of us. I’d lived next door to Dean since we moved here from the UK five years ago and I still wasn’t quite sure what footing we stood on. Were we almost friends? Did he hate me? Did he think of me as nothing more than his best friend’s sister? Was he aware that when he left his lights on at night, I could see straight through his window and sometimes ogled him as he walked around shirtless in pajama pants?
So many questions, so few answers.
I quickly walked over to the cash register and cleared my throat. “What can I get for you, sir?”
His eyebrow shot up. “Sir? That’s what you’re calling me now?”
Honestly, the word had just slipped out. In our training, they told us to speak to everybody professionally, and “sir” just seemed like the right professional word. But it was probably aweird one to use on somebody my own age, especially since we did know each other. My face heated and I looked down at the cash register again.
“What can I get you…” I trailed off, realizing that I probably shouldn’t be calling him by his name. But I wasn’t sure what else to call him and I just landed on “sir” again.
