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I shake his hand, impressed by both his manners and his chivalrousness toward his girlfriend. “No, no, that’s fine, come on in. Do you need a job, too?” I’m half-joking.
They exchange glances. Lydia gives him an encouraging nod.
“I mean, yes?” he says with a smile and a shrug. “But I play hockey, so I don’t know if you can work around my schedule.”
“Hockey,” I say flatly, in a little bit of disbelief. The damn sport follows me around incessantly. “I guess it depends on your schedule. Let’s go sit in the bakery and we can all talk.”
I lock the front door behind us and gesture for them to come and sit in the cafe side of the shop.
“It’s so cute in here,” Lydia says, looking around and giving a happy sigh. She’s a tall brunette, makeup free, wearing a granny chic brown and orange sweater that looks thrifted. “I come in here all the time to read and do homework.”
That’s why she looks familiar. “Oh, right. Wednesdays and Saturdays.”
She beams at me. “Yes. I’m usually studying my chemistry. I suck at science.”
“Babe, don’t say that,” Brady says, sliding his hand over hers. “You’re so smart.”
Brady looks like a hockey player. Bulky, floppy hair that has a hint of red to it. He’s looking at Lydia, who is honestly a little on the plain side, like she’s hung the moon. My hidden romantic that I like to pretend doesn’t exist, melts a little at his devotion.
I had a boyfriend like that in high school. He used to call me Luna the Luminous, and he was dead serious. Parker. I wonder what happened to him. We broke up in an appropriately dramatic teenage fashion at prom, with tears and screaming and hateful words to each other. I had ripped off my corsage and thrown it at him.
Relationships are a lot of fucking work. Since then, I’ve mostly stuck to casual dating and hookups.
Lydia blushes. “Brady...”
She draws his name out in a way that has Brady’s eyes darkening.
Oh, boy. These two have already seen each other naked. That’s pretty obvious. I clear my throat. “So, you don’t have any job experience, Lydia?”
She shakes her head, looking crestfallen. “No. I’m sixteen. But I’m very reliable. I’m a straight A student and I’m in the student government. I learn new tasks quickly. Plus, I’m a Virgo, so you know I’m a perfectionist.”
I wasn’t expecting her to drop her astrological sign, but she’s not wrong. I nod. “Very true. Virgos are sticklers. I’m a Pisces so I have great intuition. I’m borderline Capricorn though, so I’m also grounded. And Capricorns work well with Virgos.”
Brady is looking at me blankly. Lydia is nodding enthusiastically. “I can tell that about you. You’re so creative. Classic Pisces.”
“Okay, how many hours a week can you work and when can you start? Next week is Thanksgiving and I’m going to be slammed every day until then. We’re closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, but I’m going to be baking orders both of those days for Wednesday pickups.”
Lydia sits up straighter. “I can be here after school any of those days.”
I study her for a second, curious. “Why do you want a job?”
“The school trip to Paris is next spring and my parents said I have to pay for half. I have to go to Paris.”
“That’s awesome. I’ve never been.” I eye Brady. “Are you saving for Paris, too?”
But he shakes his head. “I’m not in French class. My dad made me take Spanish. You might know my dad, actually.”
For a split second, I’m terrified that I’ve had sex with his dad. I went through a brief daddy phase that was me sexually experimenting. It wasn’t really my thing, but that would be awkward.
But before I can properly freak out, he adds, “He’s the Racketeers assistant coach.”
“Oh!” I say in relief. “No, I’ve never met him. I mean, I know who he is, but we’ve never met.” Coach Phillips is big and bearded and yells at the players all the time. So, like any other coach. He looks like he’s in his late thirties and he gives off married dad energy, which is probably why I’ve never given him much thought.
“He’s, like, so nice,” Lydia assures me. “In person, I mean. Not during games.”
“What do you mean?” Brady asks.
“He yells a lot at games.”
