“Um, no, actually, I couldn’t decide,” I lie. “What’s your favorite thing on the menu?”
“Without a doubt the loaded tots. They are life-changing. I eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”
This guy is my kind of eater. “I better get them, then. I could use a few changes in my life.”
“You got it. Drink?”
“What life-changing beverages do you have?”
“Well, nothing truly transformative, but your meal will take care of that. Might as well get hot chocolate with whipped cream. It’s basically its own food group here.” He shrugs affably.
“Done and done,” I say. “Oh, and two big glasses of water, please.”
“Smart.” He gives me a little two-fingered salute and saunters off to the kitchen.
Moments later, the waiter returns with a giant pottery mug of steaming hot chocolate.
“Not hitting the slopes this morning?” he asks me as he slides the drink onto the table.
“Nah, I had a pretty unnerving time skiing last night,” I say. “I think I’m all set for now.”
He nods. “Yeah, I never really bought into that ‘get right back on the horse’ thing. What about what your gut is saying? I listen to my gut.”
“I don’t trust the horse,” I say. “The horse is very slippery and does not appear to like me.”
“Maybe another horse on another day,” he says.
“Exactly.” I’m glad he gets it.
He pulls a can of Reddi-wip out of the pocket of his apron and artfully sprays a mound of whipped cream into the cup so high it resembles the peak outside the window.
“Tableside service,” he announces.
“Wow, that defies the laws of physics,” I say.
“There’s no such thing as too much whipped cream,” he answers. “Now, what would really defy those laws is if you could drink it without getting a white mustache.”
“I’m not even going to try to rise to that challenge. Thanks for the hot chocolate.”
“No problem. I’m going to grab the waters and those tots. And some more napkins, since you are clearly going to need them.”
I take my time over my food, since I have absolutely nowhere else to be. Normally, if I was stuck sitting somewhere by myself, I would read a book or look at my phone, like a semi-normal human. But my retinas—retinae? Shit, I should know the name of my own body parts—have decided those activities are off-limits for now. I have no choice but to watch my cowboy, a cute boy who is not Richard Walker, wipe down the tables and refill the salt shakers, his every movement making it seem like what he’s doing is more about fun and less about work. He was probably just being so nice to me to improve his tip, but in the moment he did an excellent job of making it seem like he was enjoying himself. I pretend like I’m considering writing my phone number on the check, as if I’ve never met myself and don’t already know I’m way too much of a scaredy-cat to do something like that. And anyway, a long-distance relationship isn’t exactly an option for sad sacks like me with neither a car nor the ability to drive.
Finally, the amount of time I’ve been sitting in the same place without doing or saying anything gets cringeworthy. Ican’t read the check, so I put down what I’m sure is entirely too much money just to be safe. I don’t write my number.
“Make sure you stop in and visit me next time you come to tame horses,” he calls after me.
“I will!” I promise, wishing it were true but also knowing there’s no way in hell I’m ever coming skiing again. Not this mountain or any mountain, I guess. I can almost hear the click as the scope of my future tightens even smaller.
I’m the first to board the bus. This is by design so I won’t have to choose who to sit with. The tough-as-nails woman behind the wheel looks up from her sandwich to see me tapping on the glass and yanks on the lever to slide the door open. She’s clearly a little annoyed that I interrupted her snack. She eases the volume down a few notches on her murder podcast and stares at me. I pause, but then she waves me in.
“C’mon up, you’re letting all the heat out.” Her voice isn’t unfriendly after all, so I climb the stairs.
The warmth inside the bus encircles me like a hug. I go way to the back and settle down in the corner. Maybe I can just lie low all the way home until I get back to the safe tedium of my own room. I close my eyes and drift back to the time a few weeks ago when everything in my life felt much more predictable and within my control. When every day Mason would be smirking at me from across the lunch table. I remember thinking my life was so boring then. Now I would give anything to be that bored.
Soon I hear laughing outside, and I lift up my head to peer out the window at the group of kids gathering. The tinted windowsof the bus allow me to see them when they can’t see me. Again, ironic. Not surprisingly, I zero in on Richard right away. Even though he’s a little fuzzy through my altitude-addled vision, I can still read his body language enough to make my skin crawl. He looks positively jaunty. He and Amanda are standing next to each other, their hands each stuffed inside their pockets, playing some sort of jostling game. She elbows him in the side and then he elbows her, back and forth until one of them gets pushed hard enough to have to take a step to the side. Looks like a dumb excuse to have physical contact. I wonder about the truth of what Amanda said. Maybe she’s just in denial about her love for Richard. Or maybe he lusts after her so much he’s creating enough chemistry for the two of them. One thing’s for sure. He isnotlooking for me.
A bone-chilling wind rushes through the bus as the door is reopened and everyone climbs aboard, bringing a wall of noise with them as their voices bounce around inside the enclosed space. I’m trying and failing to look unconcerned about who will join me at the back of the bus when Jeff’s friendly face appears. I’m so happy I could kiss every one of his floppy dark curls.
