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“Aubrey, I think I’m going to really like you. And I think you’re going to enjoy working here.”
I think Bea is right.
Bea gives me all the details I need for my shifts, a few t-shirts I’m supposed to wear when I’m working and has me fill out some paperwork. When she holds up the t-shirts to my small frame, I don’t stop her from giving me the size that will fit me snugly. Mother and Father wouldn’t approve of me wearing a shirt that hugs my breasts and shows the curve of my waist, but I can wear a jacket over it when I leave the house. Another small decision I’m making myself.
I thank Bea and promise I’ll be early for my shift on Monday before I leave to walk home.
As soon as I walk out of the front door of the bakery, I come face to face with the guy from the water tower—Emmett.
Chapter five
Emmett
I’veneverseenthischick in all the eighteen years I’ve lived and now I’m face to face with her for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.
Where did you come from and where have you been hiding?
When Aubrey sees me, the natural pink leaves her cheeks and her eyes go wide. She had stopped walking and even took a few steps away from me. I’m not sure why she’s reacting this way to me today when she was incredibly hostile last night. I guess it’s possible it’s because I’d overtaken her middle-of-the-night hiding spot. This new experience of a girl not being outright putty in my hands the first time I smile at them—I’m not a fan. Did I lose my charm when I lost everything else during treatment? No way. Not possible.
I give her my best,I’m the kind of trouble you want,grin and close the distance between us.
“Well, hello Aubrey.”
The surprise in her eyes is replaced by something else, but it’s definitely not appreciation. I’m floored with myself that I remembered her name, but even more shocked with at much I enjoy saying it.
“Don’t do that,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me.
“Do what, Aubrey?”
I say it again and the euphoric feeling it brings grows.
“Look at me as if I’m one of your harlots.”
Ouch. Should I be offended, or should I be laughing at her candor?
“I don’t have–what did you call them, harlots? I havelady friends,” I tell her, turning my smirk into a full grin and shrugging my shoulders innocently.
Well, I used to have them. I haven’t hung out with a girl that wasn’t Taylor, Madison or someone who works at the hospital in months. Come to think of it, I haven’t had sex since Mexico when I met Candy and Brandi–yes, those were their actual names. And surprisingly, I met them completely separately from each other. A happy coincidence. Thinking back though, maybe it would have been more fun if I had met them together. I’ve had a lot of hook-ups but despite what people might assume; I’ve never been part of a threesome.
“Would you like to be my friend Aubrey?” I ask her, my smile getting impossibly wider.
Aubrey turns on her heel and walks away from me. Is that a no?
I jog a little to catch up to her. When I grab her arm to turn her around to face me, she yanks out of my touch. Are we back in third grade and I’ve got cooties? I know I don’t look the same as I did a few months ago, but I’m wearing a hat that covers my patchy peach fuzz and I’m lucky enough my eyebrows and eyelashes have already grown back. If you didn’t know I have cancer, you’d assume I was a skinny guy with a cold head.
Wait, why do I even care what this girl thinks of me? Is it because she seems to want nothing to do with me–or something else?
“Where are you headed?” I ask her.
“Home.”
In the daylight, I can see how beautiful she truly is. Her hair, even more fiery and coppery orange when it’s lit by the sun. She has it knotted into a loose braid that hangs over one shoulder. Her skin is dusted with freckles, creating a road map of all the places I wouldn’t mind exploring. Her expressive eyes are a sparkling shade of light green. I wonder if she knows how much emotion shows through those beautiful eyes. Granted, most of the emotion I’ve seen from them is annoyance.
“I saw you walking out of the bakery. Were you buying treats for our next middle-of-the-night meetup?”
I keep talking and I keep trying to get her to talk to me.
“No,” she says.
