“Huh?”
“Isaid, Dave gets home on Friday, so I’ll be spending the weekend at his place. You okay holding down the fort on your own?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Good.” She dropped her silverware and collapsed back into her chair like she’d finished running a marathon. “That was delicious. Whaddaya say we clean this mess up and watch some reruns ofGilmore Girlsbefore that show Asha loves so much comes on?”
Chapter 6
The next morning, the heat wave broke with the arrival of a storm. Which was freaky strange. It hardly ever rained in Los Angeles, and when it did, it was usually during the winter months. A thunderstorm in July? It was unheard of.
But the dreary weather complemented my mood.
The Electric Waffle was deserted, and there was nothing for me to do. After wiping down all the counters and tables, refilling the ketchup and syrup bottles, and mopping the floor to keep busy, I’d run out of chores. Miss Daisy, the owner and manager, had sent the rest of the waitstaff home, and without the chatter of the other girls, my only company was my thoughts.
And they were torturous.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Alec. Yesterday, I’d been so concerned with getting him out of my room that I’d forgotten to set up a time to meet. Not knowing when he’d arrive made me antsy, so when I wasn’t staring at the clock, my gaze was locked on the door. To keep from pacing, I forced myself to sit at one of the counter stools, but that didn’t stop me from jiggling my leg or tapping my fingers. It was nearly two o’clock, so there were a few more hours before my shift was over, but I had to acknowledge the possibilitythat Alec might not come at all. Considering that I practically shoved him out my window, I wouldn’t be surprised.
What I needed was a distraction.
Thankfully, Miss Daisy stepped out of her office and told me to take a break. After clocking out and pouring myself a cup of coffee, I took a spot at my favorite booth. It was tucked away in the back of the room but still had a great view of the door.
I had my ACT prep book with me, and I momentarily considered studying, but I was too jittery to concentrate. Instead, I dug to the bottom of my bag and pulled out the first three books my fingers touched: a battered edition ofThe Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, my travel copy ofTo Kill a Mockingbird, andThe Great Gatsby. Deciding on the last one, I set the first two aside and dove into the 1920s.
As with every book in my collection, I’d read Fitzgerald’s masterpiece to the point of memorizing it, but I was still sucked into the story within the first few paragraphs. Just as Nick received his invitation to one of Gatsby’s lavish parties, the bell above the door chimed. I looked up, and there was Alec. It was as if he’d came from a photoshoot for a Burberry campaign. He was wearing a stylish gray trench coat with the collar pulled up around his neck, probably to fend off the rain. I always thought popped collars made guys look pompous, but on Alec it was cool.
I stared at him as he pulled off the coat and proceeded to shake away the water droplets that had collected in his way-too-perfect hair. He must have felt me watching because he glanced up and his eyes locked onto mine.
Crap, totally busted!
I shot out of my seat and crossed the room.
When I reached him, I tucked a loose curl behind my ear. “Hey.”
Alec looked down at me with his beautiful eyes. “Hey,” he said back.
Neither of us spoke.
A magnetic energy of sorts swelled between us. It was charged and electric and impossible to ignore. When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I lowered my gaze, and by the time I looked back up, the buzz in the air was gone.
“You came,” I said finally. I was still surprised.
He scratched his temple. “You wanted me to, right?”
“Yeah, totally! It’s just… I thought that you might… Never mind.”
Alec looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language, which reminded me of how I felt when Boomer talked about mechanical engineering. Normally, I nodded my head and offered the occasionaluh-huhduring his rants about heat transfer or energy conversion. Now, I quickly changed the subject.
“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Soda? I make a killer blueberry milk shake.”
“Blueberry?”
I nodded eagerly. “I promise it’s good.” In fact, it was my absolute favorite. Mom had a weakness for them, which she’d passed on to me, so whenever blueberries went on sale, we’d fill our shopping basket with as many containers as possible and binge on shakes for a week straight.
“All right. I trust you,” he said, serious as ever. Like we were talking about a life-or-death situation and not milk shake flavors. I waited, expecting him to give me his real order, but he stared back at me. When he raised an eyebrow, I realized he already had.
“Ooh, right! Okay, cool.”
