Page 8 of To Go
“No, she wouldn’t murderyou. You’re family, I’m fair game.” He chuckles, hitting me again with that rich, deep sound.
“You’d be surprised.”
Ugh, I have to get out of here.
“Anyway, this has been…” Not knowing what this has been at all, I nod vaguely and slip out the storage room door. I try my best to collect myself as I race back to the main room. Some people are clearing out, but I spot my girls lingering near the door and hustle over to them.
“Hey, babe!” Hazel waves me over. “Where did you go?”
“The bathroom!” My voice is way too high to be nonchalant, and Hazel narrows her eyes at me through the boozy haze hovering over her. Nessa doesn’t seem to notice. “I think I’m going to head home. I’m pretty wiped and I have the early shift tomorrow.”
“You could have asked Beck for it off. You work yourself to death, and that’s coming from me.” Coming from Hazel, the workaholic, that is saying something, but I can’t exactly give up shifts.
“I know, I know. I can’t help that I like to keep myself busy.” Out of the corner of my eye I see James leave the hallway and make his way over to his band mates who are cleaning up tohelp them. “Love you! Bye!” I called over my shoulder, already halfway out the door.
No reason to wait for the night to get worse.
My small studio apartment is cold and quiet as I turn the lock behind me, toeing off my boots. It’s a bit run down, maybe a little cramped, but it’s what I can afford with my pathetic budget, so I’ve done my best to make it into a home.At least for now.
My bed sits at the end, right by the curtained window, with my tv across from it. The space is covered with storage shelving, photos and postcards all over the walls, a pile of clothes on the floor, and a half-eaten cake on the kitchen table that I forgot to put away before we headed out for the night.
Luckily, I had the forethought to put a cover over the dish, so I put it in the fridge while I putter around, doing the bare minimum of tidying. I take a look at the card on my fridge from my dad, fondly going over the old drawing on the front that he did himself. His artwork has always been so pretty, this one depicting fresh fallen snow on a lamplit street, stars twinkling above in the sky.
It matches the picture hanging in the living room when I lived back in Caledonia. I remember no matter how we would rearrange our decorations, that one always stayed the same. My mom even framed it with Christmas lights one year to make it festive. Having a small part of it on my fridge makes this place feel more like home.
I light a candle before crawling under my fluffy duvet. As far as birthdays go, this one was pretty spectacular, even if I did get gross fingers in my mouth, abandoned by my friends, and made out with my friend’s brother. Her ridiculously hot, talented, older brother whose voice sounds like sex.
I slip into the memory of tonight, my blood heating as I remember his hands on me, how it felt when he lifted me off the ground and pinned me to the door, they way his fingers strummed my sensitive nub so deliciously, how I let him make me come and he’d barely had to touch me. No one’s ever touched me like that before, pulled those sensations from me. It was exhilarating, having an older man, one with experience, someone who knew exactly what he wanted from me and how to get it. His assertiveness—aggressiveness, really—should have been a turn off, but holy god, was I ready to surrender.
My hand skates down my stomach into my sleep shorts, my body screaming for relief. I remember the hickey on my neck, which I’m surprised neither of the girls noticed, and how he knew exactly where to kiss me, how to hold me, and what I needed to get off. It’s not long before I’m panting into my pillow, chasing my orgasm desperately. I moan softly into the bed as it rushes through me, satisfying, even if I can tell it’s lacking something. Now that I’ve had his touch, his taste, what he can do to me, I wonder if this will ever be enough.
“Have a great day!” I wave at the customer as they leave, sighing in relief as the last of the morning rush finally settles into agentle hum. I love morning shifts because they go by quickly, but man does it sap your energy. I grab my tea from the back counter—which may as well be iced tea at this point—and throw it back, letting it cool me down from the inside.
It’s been sweltering in here all morning since Maria’s been in the back kitchen testing recipes, a mere five feet away from me. Beck’s cousin is an absolute gem, and she might be one of the best cooks I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, but holy mackerel she’s making the entire back area feel like an oven, and it’s seeping its way to behind the counter. Even with the frosty chill coming in through the door with each customer, it’s not enough to battle the fires of Hell itself that she’s lit back there. I even let her take over muffin production today in an attempt to not sweat off a few pounds.
The bell on the door jingles and I steel myself, putting on my best customer service face.
“Good morning!” I say, spinning around, “What can I get for… you…” my pulse quickens as I take in the person standing in front of me.
“You work here?” James’ voice is gruff and annoyed, his rumpled expression accentuated by a beanie shoved onto his head and a scruffy, dark corduroy jacket that’s seen better days.
“Evidently,” I deadpan as mortification trickles through me. I wasn’t expecting to face my bad decisions so early in my day.
This would be so much easier if he wasn’t so freaking hot. If I didn’t already know what it was like to have his hands on me, inside of me…
“Nessa didn’t mention—"
“What can I get for you?” I put on my most professional exterior, my award-winning customer service smile, ignoring the fact that I am screaming on the inside. If I can get him his order and get him out of here, I can stop thinking about howashamed I should be and how much I’ll need to beg on my knees for forgiveness if my best friend ever finds out.
“Nessa said this place makes its own pumpkin creamer year-round. Do you have any of that?”
“Ooh, a pumpkin spice fan, I approve. We do have that. Medium work for you? To go?” My customer service voice comes out in full force in an effort to make it through this transaction with dignity.
“Large, for inside please.” My hopes flutter to the floor, dashed.
“Sounds good! Grab a seat and I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.” I quickly turn around and begin making it, taking as long as possible until I finally hear him leave the till, trying not to think of how recently he had his hands in my pants.
Oh my god I didn’t even take his payment. In my rush to be free of this nightmare, I totally forgot half of my job. Oh well. I’m allowed to comp things here and there. Luckily, he doesn’t give me any grief when I bring his coffee to the table in the corner, snooping over his shoulder to see what he’s doing.
