Page 40 of Holidating
“It should be,” Carly says, tossing the last silverware roll into the bin.
“How fast do you think we can hang up twenty fliers after work?” I ask.
“Let’s hang up ten and recycle the rest,” she whispers.
“But if New Year’s is a flop, we won’t get good tips,” I point out.
“Fine,” she says, standing up to tie on her apron. “But it won’t be a flop. I just know it.”
Four nights later, I find out she’s right.
There’s a sweet spot to waitressing. When the place is dead, I get bored and make too little in tips. But when the place is slammed, the customers get crabby and I get stressed out. In the middle zone is where this job is really pretty great. When the stars align, you can have happy customers and fat tips as the hours fly by.
And then there’s New Year’s Eve. I’ve never seen the Biscuit so crowded. Every table is taken, and it’s standing room only at the bar. Every available staff member is on shift, and I heard they started a new bouncer tonight just to double up on security.
The clientele is in a good mood, though, and The Hardwick Boys sound terrific. It’s tricky to hear the patrons shout theirorders over the music, but I don’t even mind. The lively atmosphere and the holiday tips make it all worthwhile.
And—even better—table seventeen is chock-full of hockey players, including my favorite one. Every time I drop off a beer or even pass by, Weston gives me a warm smile.
I’m trying not to pay too much attention. I’m a busy girl. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him all week. Spending time together as friends has only made him more appealing.
And sometimes? I think he’s attracted to me, too. Am I crazy, or does he keep glancing at me? Or did I dream that?
I did. I dreamt it. Weston isn’t shy. If he wanted me, he’d just say so.
“He keeps looking this way!” Carly shouts as we stand in front of the bar, waiting for various drinks to be made. “That boy wants you!”
“What boy?” I shout back.
Carly rolls her eyes. “You don’t fool me. I’m not stupid. But I think you might be. Don’t look, but he’s watching you even as we speak.”
I don’t look, because I don’t want to encourage her. I’m deep in the friend zone with Weston, and that’s just the way it is. “He’s just waiting for his beer!”
“Yeah? Well he looks especiallythirstytonight,” Carly yells back. “Get on that.” She winks as the bartender plunks her drinks down onto the bar. With a cheeky smile, she loads them onto her tray and goes.
“Hey,” the bartender says, rapping his knuckles on the bar like he always does. “Abbi, I’m gonna need another minute on your order. But the new bouncer is asking for you.”
“What? Table zero is not in my section.” It’s always somebody’s job to keep the bouncer in free coffee and soda.
He shrugs. “He just came on shift, and asked for you by name. You’re very popular tonight. Go take him this?” He sets a glass of Coke on the bar. “Tell him I couldn’t add rum. House rules.”
Oh good grief. Like I don’t have enough to do already. But it would take longer to argue than to deliver the man’s soda. I take the drink and head for the vestibule.
On my way, I notice that table fifteen’s beers are empty. Better make this quick. I hurry toward the front door, where the bite of winter air chills my skin. “Here’s your?—”
The sentence dies in my throat when I see who the new bouncer is.
CHAPTER 14
NOT GETTING KICKED OUT OF THE BISCUIT
WESTON
“And then Patrick wakes up in the bed with a shiner. And he’s like,Guys, guys? Who hit me?”Tate laughs at his own storytelling. And then he punches me in the arm. “Weston.Bro. You dragged me out here tonight, but you’re not a very attentive date. I’m starting to get offended. Did you even hear what I said?”
“Yup,” I say, turning to face him. “Patrick. Black eye. Got it. Now we can tell him apart from Paxton.”
Tate just shakes his head at me. “Well, at least your hearing still works. But eyes up here, big guy. If you keep staring at the hot waitress, she might decide the hockey team is creepy. The entire wait staff will start bringing us cold chicken and warm beer.”
