Page 7 of Perfectly Us
“I graduated last year,” I respond, working on his friend’s drink.
“College?”
“No.”
“Oh. I’m starting in the fall. Kinda nervous about it. I feel like one of those baby sea turtles that’s just hatched and has to make it across the sand to the ocean. A world of adventure lies ahead, but I have to reach the water first.”
“You can just nod and say cool,” the other guy says to me. “Alex has a habit of saying whatever weird shit pops into his head.”
“You should hear what Idon’tsay.” Alex grins, and I try to ignore how much I like it. He bumps his buddy on the arm. “This is Ruben. He works at the theater too.”
“That’s right,” I say as it dawns on me. “I bought popcorn from you last night.”
“Guilty as charged.” Ruben grabs his drink as I hand it over.
“Guess I’ll go sit now so you can work,” Alex tells me. “It was nice talking to you.”
“You did most of the talking.”
He smiles. And it makes my heart beat faster. Again.
Ruben plops down in one of the plushy chairs near the window, and Alex takes the one beside him. If he looks back at me after that, I don’t know. I wipe off the counter, then restock a few pastries, keeping my eyes away from the corner where he’s sitting.
Attraction has always been weird for me. I used to think I was straight, but then I found myself looking at guys too. But even when I think someone is hot, the urge to act on it isn’t there. Hookup culture has never appealed to me.
Sometimes I feel broken, like maybe my body is just as fucked-up as my mind. I wonder if my doctor would say it’s another chemical imbalance, nothing to be ashamed of.
“Shiloh!”
I blink and notice Alex in front of me.
“You were really zoning, huh? I said your name, like, a million times. Can I get another brownie? No, wait.” He taps a finger on top of the glass case as he skims the contents. “I want one of those cake pops. The chocolate one.”
“Sure.” I grab one for him and ring it up. “That’ll be two fifty.”
“Keep the change,” he says, handing me a five-dollar bill.
Our fingers brush as I take it, and the contact sends an electric spark through me, shooting from my fingertips and up my arm. I still feel the tingle from it as Alex walks away from the counter and goes back to his chair.
More customers file in, and I take their orders, make their drinks, repeat. When I glance back at the corner a while later, Alex is gone.
“Looking for me?”
I turn to see him leaning against the counter to my left, a small smile curving his lips.
“No,” I lie.
“Listen.” Alex leans toward me. “Ruben is throwin’ a big party tomorrow night. You should come.”
“Tomorrow’s Monday.”
“Yeah, so? School’s out for the summer. Days of the week don’t matter. Is it Friday? Tuesday? No one knows. I mean, unless you have a job, then youbetterknow what day it is.”
“There’ll be booze and chicks,” Ruben chimes in from beside him. “Or dudes, if that’s more your thing. Whatever floats your boat. I don’t judge.”
“Parties aren’t really my thing,” I answer.
Back in high school, I kept to myself a lot. I had a few friends, but I shied away from most social gatherings. Not that I was ever invited anywhere anyway. When you’re quiet, people assume shit about you.
