Page 25 of Nerdelicious
He’s wearing his requisite bouncer gear: dark jeans with a black T-shirt that has a Bodean’s logo on the breast. I have my own black blouse with the same logo. But the company shirts must not come in size goliath because it’s on the tight side. The sleeves strain under the curve of his biceps, and the fabric hugs his shoulders, outlining the definition underneath.
He normally wears stuff that’s a little baggier so while it’s impossible to hide his inherent size no matter the outfit, I didn’t quite comprehend his actual form until... now. And now I can’t stop comprehending it, no matter how hard I try. There’s no denying it, Beast is hot. But the attraction simmering in my belly, growing every day, is irrelevant because it’s not reciprocated. Every time I think about when I tried to kiss Beast and how weird it was and how he reacted, embarrassment sweeps through me and helps quash any lingering temptation.
He signs a thank-you by holding his palm flat to his face, then moving it forward and down. Then he holds up one finger to indicate I should wait.
Every night for the past week I’ve brought him dinner on his break. Who knew chicken porn could bring people together?
I figured out he knows ASL by talking to Grace, and I’ve been taking the time to learn some simple signs. I’ve got the alphabet down, that was the easy part, and then a few common hand signals likeplease,thank you, andmore, amongst others.
He pushes something on his phone. “Thank you,” a robotic feminine voice intones.
I clap my hands together, moving around the table to examine his phone. “While it’s hilarious that you’re using Siri’s voice, maybe we can change it.” I sit on the armrest and lean in, resting a hand on his shoulder to help him adjust the settings. “Oh, do the Australian man voice, I love that one.”
He shakes his head and types,I’m less of a Wolverine and more of a Deadpool kind of guy.
I laugh. “Yeah, it’s all the monologuing and cursing that gives you away.”
He looks at me, one corner of his mouth twitching up, the smallest sign of amusement. And just like that, the heat of his shoulder under my palm is scalding.
I stand. “I better get back. I’ll see you after closing.” I leave with a wave, exiting the room with so much haste I probably leave a smoke-shaped Fred behind me.
We’ve been carpooling to work together. Sometimes in Granny’s car, but mostly we use Fitz’s truck. The pickup is more comfortable for Beast, and Fitz doesn’t need it since he lives in town with Annabel. She has a car and nearly everything is within walking distance.
Back in the kitchen I continue cleanup. It’s almost nine, which means it’s time to do the most glamorous part of my job: washing the dishes.
At least they’ve got a nice, deep stainless-steel sink with a sprayer attachment.
Most of my time at Bodean’s is spent prepping plates and side dishes, cutting fruits and veggies, and cleaning up while the kitchen is open. Then I move out to the front and help bartend and wait and bus tables. Basically, I do whatever I’m told.
Before I know it, an hour has passed, the dishes are done, and I’m taking off my hair cap and apron to help at the bar.
“Fred, table twelve.” Eliza places the last drink on the tray. Eliza is the bartender slash manager. I’ve only ever seen her in black. Like Faith on Buffy, she’s kinda brassy, kinda emo. She might stake you, might make you laugh depending on her mood.
Skirting the dance floor, I carry the tray to the table in question, a booth near the back, sidestepping cowboys and locals. A loud country song shakes both the rafters and the sticky floor beneath my feet, threatening the safety of the drinks in my hand. No matter that the floor gets mopped every night, within an hour of opening it’s splattered with beer and booze, the smell of cleaning product overwhelmed with perfumes, body sprays, and musk from dancing bodies.
Country music isn’t normally my thing, but it’s kind of growing on me. I might have to visit Skinny Dennis when I get back to New York—one of the only honky-tonks in Brooklyn.
Table twelve is stuffed with a half a dozen women close to my age—late teens to early twenties. Most of them are bleached blondes but a couple have caramel-colored heads and there’s one brunette.
I set the drinks out on the table and they ignore me, continuing their conversation. “I love the strong and silent type,” the blonde closest to me says. She’s wearing a sparkly top and a short black skirt. Her voice is high and sweet, even if her words are on the salacious side.
Her friends laugh.
“You should invite him over when he gets off work, Caroline,” the brunette says. “Or to the party.”
Caroline picks up her drink and plays with the straw. “I do have the whole place to myself. I wouldn’t want to be lonely. Do you think he would protect me?” She bats her lashes, which incites a round of giggles.
I finish with setting the drinks down and load the empties onto my tray. “Anything else I can get you?” I ask loudly.
One woman shakes her head and another waves me off with a flick of a hand.
I make my way back to the bar, glancing toward the front as I pick my way through the throng.
They have to be talking about Beast, and I don’t like it. Maybe it’s because we’re friends. He is actually a really great friend—once you crack the hard exterior. And I cracked that impenetrable surface, oddball ways notwithstanding. It’s like he’s my little secret. But that’s not fair. He’s not mine to worry about. And for all I know, he would encourage their attention. Why wouldn’t he? He’s young. Single. Handsome.
Over at the front door, Beast is turned away from me, checking IDs, his broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist and hips. He has a nice butt. Almost as good as Captain America’s ass. I blink rapidly, forcing my gaze away.
More people are crowding the bar, and time moves at transwarp speed as I serve and mix drinks with Eliza, cashing out tabs and trying to keep up with the horde. Ranger steps in to help out, too. Despite being the owner, he shifts around the building in different areas, giving some of the staff a break when it’s needed and pitching in wherever he can.
