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“Stopped by to say hi on my way to work,” I replied, kicking his foot. “You have a break coming up?”
“I’ll take on now,” he said happily, sitting up. “Where you working today?”
“Craft store,” I replied, following him as he walked to a sink to wash up. “I’m closing.”
“Eleven?”
“Yep.”
“That sucks,” he said, looking at me over his shoulder. “I was gonna see if you wanted to hang out.”
“I’m going to be pretty wiped by the time I’m off.” I grimaced apologetically. “We’re doing inventory this week. What about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s no good for me.” He didn’t look at me when he said it, reaching to pull a couple of paper towels out of the dispenser. “What about Wednesday or Thursday?”
“Closing again Wednesday, and Thursday, I told Bird I’d take him to a movie. Wanna come with us?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Friday?”
“Friday might work,” I said with a sigh. I was working late again on Friday, but at least I wasn’t closing. If I wanted to see him, I might need to just suck it up and hang out even if I was tired.
I followed him out of the garage and into the main room of the clubhouse, and something was prodding at the back of my mind. Something was off. I tried to ignore it because I knew I was overthinking things again and I needed to sort that shit out.
“How’d your date go on Thursday?” Rumi asked as he went behind the bar to grab us a couple sodas. I waved to his aunt Molly and aunt Rose, who were doing something near the stereo system before turning back to face him.
“Boring,” I replied with a groan, giving him a thumbs-down.
Rumi laughed. “That bad, huh?”
“Dude talked about work all night.”
“Did he at least have a cool job?”
“He was an insurance adjuster.” My voice was flat, making Rumi laugh again. “If I never hear about how much it takes to total a Honda again, it will be too soon.”
“What a chump,” Rumi said, leaning on the bar. “Hi, you’re pretty. Can I interest you in a story about the oil I changed today?”
“Still changing oil, huh?” I teased.
“I could do that shit in my sleep,” he grumbled. “I’m going to be your pop’s age and still changing oil.”
“Poor Rumi.”
“It’s fine,” he said with a sigh. “You know, I’m kinda startin’ to feel like an ass complainin’ to you.”
“Oh, yeah? Why is that?”
“Because you’re workin’ two jobs, and you don’t bitch nearly as much as I do.”
“True,” I agreed, nodding.
“You’re not supposed to agree with me!”
“Hey, man.” I shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”
“What time do you have to be at work?”
I checked the time and huffed. “In fifteen minutes. I better go.”
