Page 18 of Reaching Avery
Chapter Five
Maverick
While most people my age were spending their Saturdays going to the movies or lazing around the house, I spent mine at work. But I didn’t mind it. Work paid off, and the more prepared I was for my future, the better.
That didn’t mean I didn’t have fun while there, though.
I worked with a guy named Garrett—who was several years older than me—and we joked all the time. He’d worked at Brew Emporium for almost two years, so when I first started there, he’d been the one to train me. Over the summer, we’d become friends.
It wasn’t hard for me to make friends. I talked to anyone and everyone, excluding asswipes who thought they were better than everyone else.
“How’re things with Chris?” Garrett asked as he refilled the ice for the Frappuccino machine.
“To be honest, I’m not sure.” I checked the pastries in the glass case, and made a mental note of ones I needed to refill. The banana nut muffins were going quick that day. “I haven’t talked to him much, and when Ido, he barely says anything before having to get off the phone.”
I tried to hide how much that hurt me. My conversation with Chris days ago flashed through my mind, and the ache in my chest returned. I rubbed at it, even though I knew there was no dulling the sting.
“He could just be crazy busy,” Garrett suggested in a sympathetic tone. His wavy, blond hair fell into his eyes and he flicked his head to move it aside. “I’ve heard those New York colleges are damn competitive.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “How’s college going for you?”
He attended the local college and lived on campus, so his commute to work wasn’t bad at all. As he talked about his studies, I listened, grateful for the topic shift.
Garrett was a psychology major with a minor in criminal justice. It was awesome when he talked about his psych class, and even though that wasn’t something I wanted to pursue, I enjoyed learning about it.
The human brain was fascinating, as was behavior and the consciousness behind it.
His story about some shock experiment he just learned in class was interrupted when a group of girls neared the counter.
I took their order—all non-fat, iced coffees—and I tried not to feel so uncomfortable by how one of them checked me out. It wasn’t that I was a prude or anything. I just didn’t like being looked at like a piece of meat.
Garrett, however, didn’t seem to mind. He flashed the girl a flirty smile and used his tongue to move his bottom lip ring—an act that I found incredibly sexy too. I went to fix their drinks as he took my place at the counter and tried to sweet talk them into buying some pastries to go with their coffee.
One of them caved, but the others said no, and then he cashed them out. He leaned on the countertop and watched them walk away.
“You should ask one of them out,” I said.
“Nah.” He shook his head before facing me and crossing his arms. “It’s fun to flirt, but that’s it. They’re too young for me. I go for older.”
“Well, my grandma isn’t seeing anyone right—”
Garrett shoved me and laughed. “Dude. Sick. Notthatold.”
“What?” I asked in mock surprise. “She’s a young seventy-two.”
“You’re demented,” he said, crinkling his nose.
Seeing that the coffee was running low, I walked over and started brewing another pot. We had a lot of flavors for specialty lattes—vanilla, hazelnut, caramel, and then seasonal ones like the famous pumpkin spice and peppermint mochas—but a lot of people preferred our house blend and just added some cream and sugar to it.
“So,” I said, going back over to Garrett and leaning against the counter. “You like older, huh? What… do you have, like, a sugar momma or something?” I’d asked the question as a joke, not expecting a serious answer.
But he gave me one.
“Actually, he’s a sugar daddy,” Garrett answered with a shrug. At my surprised gape, he smirked. “What? Don’t judge me.”
“No judgment from me,” I said. “But are you serious, or are you just screwing with me?”
From what I knew about him, he’d always expressed interest in girls. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be bi, though.
