Page 7 of Crash and Burn
I couldn't tell him yet. I couldn't bear the thought of him turning me down. We had such a good friendship, and I didn't want to risk losing that, especially since we also worked together. Things could turn awkward. What if one of us felt like we had to quit?
Now that we'd just gotten these awesome new jobs I couldn't risk that.
Just wait a little longer, I told myself.
I'd wait until I knew whether or not Grant felt the same way about me.
I'd wait until I knew whether or not this whole thing would blow up in my face.
I returned my attention to Grant and saw his wide smile.
I couldn't risk ruining this for him. For us.
Not yet.
Just a little while longer and I would tell him I loved him.
Just until I knew he could love me back.
Grant turned his head and saw me watching him. He gave me a soft smile.
"I guess you're stuck with me," he said.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," I replied.
That spark lit up in his eyes again, something close to hope. My cheeks pinked and my breath caught in my throat. I couldn't be sure of it but…
Maybe I wouldn't have to wait as long as I thought.
2
Now
When the new bar Sin and Tonic opened, my workload increased. So had my pay, however, so I never complained about the extra effort I had to put into the job.
On the other hand, there was no more scrubbing at the same stain for half an hour. The tables at this place didn't even have stains. It was upscale but with a chill vibe that kept it from being pretentious.
The bar was always bustling now, far more so than it ever had when Manny owned the place. I felt bad thinking that way, but I was sure the old man was relaxing on a beach somewhere, enjoying his early retirement thanks to the money that guy Walt had paid him.
"Hey hon," a woman touched my shoulder to stop me on my way to the bar. “Can I get one of those Chocolatini cocktails you're so famous for?"
"Sure thing," I chirped, adding the drink to the other two in my head as I continued on my way with empty glasses in hand.
I'd gotten so good I didn't even need to write down orders anymore. I'd come up with a system of pairing the drinks to the customers.
Chocolatini girl had a brown, tiger-print purse, the same color as chocolate.
The rum and Coke guy over in the corner had thick glasses, the kind people used to callCoke-bottle glasses.
His friend had ordered a pint of our signature lager, and the guy was a beefcake with a huge, thick neck like a log.
Sure, it was silly, but it worked.
I maneuvered my way across the room, swerving around laughing, chatting people, making sure not to drop the dirty glasses I was carrying. There was a crowd of customers already waiting to place their orders at the bar counter with our newest bartender. He was a little slow, still learning the ropes. I scanned around for a space between bodies where I could slip through, but they were tightly packed.
Instead, I snuck around the corner and ducked low, sliding under the counter and coming out the other side.
I straightened and found myself face-to-face with Grant.
