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And yet … Stassi.
Before I can think too much about it, I type in:
DocMansfield: Hi.
Then I stare at it, waiting for something to happen.
A minute passes, then two and three and five.
I yawn, my body reminding me I need to get home and catch up on sleep.
Same old Stassi: untouchable, unreachable, unbothered by me—all the things that used to drive me wild about her … and still do.
It’s only a matter of time before we run into each other around the apartments, and I’ve come too far to throw in the towel. I’ll work my charm (even if it never worked on her before). I’ll show her I’m no longer the cruel and arrogant boy she once knew.
I’ll prove to her that I’m worth the risk.
I’ll replace the bad memories with good ones.
I’ll love her harder than anyone’s ever loved her before.
9
Stassi
“Order up!”
I drag my tired behind from the dining area to the counter, where a freshly made pepperoni pie is waiting for me. Ted’s smiling at me appreciatively, which tells me he isn’t going to be paying me overtime. “Smile, Stassi. You look miserable. What gives?”
My friends have always told me they could read my mind by looking at my face.
If looks could kill, our latest customers would probably be dead already.
Oops …
But I can’t bring myself to smile. I’m dead on my feet. It’s fifteen minutes past closing, and of course Ted felt the need to cater to some USM frat guys who strutted in two minutes before I could flip the sign on the door to CLOSED.
I was at least glad for the chance to pawn off some of the old pizza in the display case on them, and then I wouldn’t feel shamed into eating it myself since I hate letting food go to waste. But of course, they were wise to that. Their curly-haired, douchey leader, who clearly thinks a lot of himself, said, “We don’t want any of your old shit. Make us new pies. Two of ‘em. Extra cheese, extra pepperoni. Green olives on half of one.”
No please. No could you? It was a command.
One of the other guys blew the paper top off his straw, and it hit me in the chest, landing right between my boobs. He immediately cheered, “He shoots, he scores!” And the idiots around him laughed like baboons.
I crumbled the wrapper and handed it back to him with a fake smile. They’re lucky they don’t have Margie or Tiffany or their food might be garnished with a side of spit.
“Hey, we were only having fun,” one of them yelled at me, throwing his hands in the air as I walked away.
I am so done with this day. I don’t care if they don’t tip me. Which, probably, they won’t. I remember college and how all my friends used to have that fearlessness, like the whole world was in the palms of their hands. They drove too fast, drank too much, lived on the edge. They did crazy things, not worrying about the consequences. I’d never felt that way. Not after Jonathan, when I’d learned that some things could never be undone.
But I’d always envied the kind of freedom that came with giving zero damns about anything.
It's the same kind of freedom I envy in Alec. He was always taking risks, leading the charge on the craziest ideas, and my brothers just followed along because they idolized him. They once stole Alec’s father’s boat and went MIA for an entire weekend. Another time they road tripped down to New York to see the Big Apple drop on New Year’s Eve. They were always going on adventures, living every day to the fullest.
Alec had been able to escape this place, to move away, to experience life.
Meanwhile, what have I done? And what will I ever do?
Once upon a time, I was close to having made something of myself. I had a good job in Manhattan, a decent apartment that I shared with the man I was going to marry and a promising on the horizon. My whole life was ahead of me—until it wasn’t.
These frat guys may be douches, but it doesn’t matter. Their options are limitless. They can be anything they want to be.
Ten minutes later, I bring their fresh pies over, set them on the table without a word, and turn to leave.
“Hey. Girl.” I glance back to see the curly-haired one staring at me, holding up the pizza cutter. “Aren’t you going to serve us?”
Girl? What the hell? “Are your hands broken?”
He gives me sad, pleading eyes. Not even close to Alec’s emeralds, but I can imagine other girls falling for them.
“I’d really love if you’d do it..” His voice is teasing and he’s stifling a laugh. “You’re the professional here, not me.”
I almost think he’s trying to flirt, but seeing that he’s barely out of high school, the art appears to be lost on him.
