Page 46 of Pucking Matt
I shake my head. “How could I?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “The sound of your voice telling me to shut up lives rent free in my head.”
“It does?” I ask, surprised.
Her eyes dart to my mouth. “Every time I see you, I imagine you saying those few little words to me, and I–”
When she doesn’t finish, I nod. “I get it. Every time I see you, I imagine you tackling me down a flight of stairs, and I can’t forgive you.”
She smiles, almost laughing.
“Hey, I’m telling the truth.” I don’t like how big her smile is.
She asks, “You don’t think I’m telling the truth?”
I shake my head. “You didn’t finish your sentence.”
“I’ll finish it then. That day was a really bad day for me. You weren’t supposed to hear anything I was saying, but when you told me to shut up, I lost every ounce of willpower I had left. I was embarrassed. I was depressed, and I took it out on you because you couldn’t mind your own business.”
“Honestly, the few hits to the face woke me up that day. The night before I had to sit in the living room after Grey punched me in the face during hockey and listen to my mom and his dad yell at us for hours. I was blamed for Grey hitting me, imagine that.”
Her face changes when I glance at her.
“So, we were both going through it?” she asks. Her tone bleeding guilt.
I shrug. “I guess we’re both a little fucked up.”
“Maybe me more than you.” She nods. “I’m sorry, Matt…for everything.”
I search her face for any insincerity. The apology is unexpected, but maybe this will be a truce. She means it, so I say, “I’m sorry, too.”
She pulls her bottom lip in with her teeth as she scans the Grind Stone. “I can’t believe you work here,” she says, inhaling. Her shoulders widen and then they drop as she exhales.
I tilt my head, glancing around. I clap my hands together. “Okay, well, my work here is done. I got the apology. I quit.”
She laughs as I walk to the back, acting as if I’m going to clock out. I’m out of her sight, waiting to see if she’ll take the bait.
“You’re joking, right?” she says, running around the corner where I’m standing. She walks straight into my chest as I look down. She glares up at me, hiding that smirk on her lips. Her eyes are the color of her name. She brushes her hair behind her ears as she looks up at me. It’s stupidly quiet in here, so I take a step back, unable to speak. I watch her carefully.
“You’re kidding,” she says, nodding and breaking eye contact. “Of course you are.” She glares up at me. “Are you planning to continue to torture me?”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” I ask, observing her face.
“Why else would you be working here?” she questions.
I shrug. “Maybe I wanted free sandwiches. Maybe I wanted an apology. Or revenge.”
The front door jingles, signifying a customer has entered the building. She walks away, flipping me off before cutting the corner and I smile to myself.
I hear her say, “Welcome to the Grind Stone. What can I get for you?”
“Is Matt working?” I hear the voice from around the corner.
I take a step forward, and Amber runs into my chest again.
“Again, Hughes?” I smile down at her.
She catches herself, her cheeks turning pink. Her eyes look at my apron. “Someone’s here for you.” When she glances up at me, I give her a half grin.
