Page 29 of Heart Check
“Depends.” She shrugs on her puffer. “I don’t know how much longer I can handle these negative vibes. Maybe leaving you two to take care of things will inspire you to mend some fences.” I open my mouth to protest—what sense doesthatmake?—but she adds, “Besides, Sara texted. See you when I see you.”
Before I can call her out, she’s through the door, bell jangling overhead as she abandons us.
I exchange a look with Harper. “I hate Sara.”
She leans against the counter, tilting her head playfully. “What, does she read books?”
This shift can’t end soon enough. “She never makesplanswith Lindsey. Just texts when she’s free and expects her to drop everything. Pretty messed up if you ask me.”
Her mouth makes a littleoh. For a minute, she’s lost for words. Then she gives herself a shake and straightens up. “Well, Sara texted and Lindsey dropped, so. Here we are. You better not flake on me.”
There’s no way of knowing if Lindsey will be back in time to close with Harper—when she meets up with Sara, she could be gone for hours or days. Leaving Harper to figure it out by herself is tempting, but her accusation makes me straighten up in outrage. Besides, my parents would kill me if I left her here alone. “I take my responsibilities seriously, okay? You’re the one who’d better not flake.”
She lifts her chin, eyes flashing. “As if I’d give you more ammunition to try to get me fired. Again. Some of us need this paycheck.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks. Okay, not my finest moment, but I’d thought we were getting past that. Before I can try toapologize, she’s whirling away with the decaf to top up her table’s coffee.
It’s a relief when our last customer settles up and we can finally start the ritual of closing. The cooks have taken off and there’s still no sign of Lindsey, so it’s only Harper and me. I start running through the routine: just another series of motions encoded in my muscles, like lining up a shot. Sanitize, flip the chairs, mop the floor…
“I’ll put these in the walk-in,” Harper says. She doesn’t even make eye contact as she gathers up the perishables and heads to the back.
My phone chimes with a text as soon as she disappears. I tuck my rag into my waistband and swipe my screen open.
Ryan:can you bring some ice tonight??
Ryan:I thought I was prepared but I just googled and bro
Ryan:turns out you need A LOT of ice for a party
I sigh. Thirty seconds earlier and I could’ve asked Harper to carry a bag back from the walk-in. But I give my table one last quick wipe-down and follow her to the back and through the open door to the fridge.
Harper whirls around from the shelves in the corner, a little flushed from the cold. “What? Didn’t trust me to”—she waves the jar of mayonnaise in her hands for emphasis—“stack the condiments on my own?”
The defiant tilt of her chin and cock of her hips is pretty adorable. Too bad someone so cute is also so annoying. I roll my eyes. “I’m just here for ice, okay?”
I brush past her, to the cooler in the back where we keep the extra bags. It’s even colder in the fridge than it is outside.My bare arms in this short-sleeve polo are already prickling with goosebumps. In and out, and then off to Ryan’s party—
But when I turn around, Harper’s standing stock-still at the closed door.
“You need help?” I ask, ignoring the anxiety prickling down my neck.
She wheels to face me, expression free of the usual contempt and teasing. “It’s locked.”
“It’s not locked.” I take a few quick steps toward the door, ignoring her noise of irritation, and try the handle myself. It doesn’t budge.
“What was that about it not being locked?” But even Harper doesn’t sound happy, for once, to prove me wrong. “I thought these things were supposed to have fail-safes so this couldn’t happen.”
“Yeah, well, something must’ve gone wrong.” I grab my phone, but shit—no signal. When I try to text Lindsey, the sending bar freezes halfway through.
“Lindsey’ll find us at some point, right?” Harper’s voice comes out pitched higher than usual. I don’t comment on it. Mine probably sounds like I’m still balls deep in puberty, too.
I clear my throat, trying to stay calm. “If she comes back. And even if she does, how will she know to look for us back here?”
I rub my hands up and down my arms. Has anyone ever frozen to death in a walk-in? I shake my head to clear out the thought. Surely not, right? But at this rate, I’m going to miss Ryan’s party. The one thing I’ve been looking forward to after this hellhole of a week, and it’s slipping right through my fingers and instead I’m stuck with a girl who’d slam me into the boards without thinking twice.
Calm cracks in an instant, like too-thin ice.
I kick the door again, bang on it with my fists, yell for help as loud as I can. I don’t know how much is a real attempt to attract attention and how much is just me needing toshout, becausefuck,could this week get any worse?!
