AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A chorus ofOoohhhsand rises from the rooms, and before I know it, June’s organized the field of battle—a four-top with a stack of napkins and a tub of clean silverware on each side.
Before we take our places, Hollis sidles up to me.“Thank you.I was about to snap.”
“Yeah, I noticed.They’re kind of obnoxious about how much they’re going to miss you.”I don’t point out that it’s another piece of evidence against his whole irresponsible and unreliable bullshit.Self-esteem conversations remind me of his mysterious reasons for not wanting more from our relationship, and I don’t particularly want to touch that burner again if I don’t have to.
“Let’s go, Fielding.”He holds up his fist for me to bump, and I do, dying a little at such a bro-y exchange with the guy I have actual feelings for.
He moves to the far end of the table, hopping in place, stretching his neck from side to side, and grabbing his left arm to pull across his chest like he’s limbering up to run a marathon.I, meanwhile, calmly step out of my high heels.
Hollis’ brows shoot up.“Interesting,” he drawls.“Very interesting.”As he speaks, he circles around me like a boxer trying to psych out his competitor.
“What are you playing for?”Ariel calls, which intensifies the shouts and catcalls from the audience.
Hollis gives me another once-over before inclining his head in my direction.“I’ll let the lady choose.”
I hide my smile over how well my plan’s coming together.
In a cool voice, I say, “Winner’s choice of favor, to be determined.”
Hollis lifts his brows and turns to the crowd with anare you not entertained?gesture.
“Okay!”Darryl calls, brandishing his phone with the timer pulled up on the screen.“You have five minutes.The most properly completed silverware rolls at the end of this time is the winner.On your marks… get set…go!”
Hollis attacks the bin, his fingers seeking out a knife, fork, and spoon in the jumble to swaddle in a napkin that he secures with a self-adhesive paper band.I, meanwhile, grab a handful of silverware from my own bin and start dividing them into piles, one per utensil type.
“What are you doing, Liv?”Ariel calls.“He’s smoking you!”
“He thinks he is,” I say, glancing at the rolled bundles he has in his pile.“Darryl, time?”
“Three minutes, fifty seconds left!”he calls.
Hollis sneaks a peek at my progress, and confusion colors his face.“You’re not even making it hard for me, Livvie-Liv!”
My heart clenches to hear that nickname from him.He hasn’t called me that since before our almost-hookup.
“Yeah, man!”Rob calls.“Kick her ass!”
June’s irritated sigh echoes my own.“You got this, Liv!”she yells in what’s quickly becoming a boys-versus-girls competition.
I’m not about to let my ladies down.
“Actually,” I say with another glance at Hollis’ finished rolls and my own sorted piles, “I believe I do, in fact, got this.”And then I dive in, easily plucking a knife, fork, and spoon from their individual pile, neatly twisting the napkin around them, and slapping on the band.While Hollis scrabbles around his tub for the three pieces he needs, I’m able to cut through my stacks like a hot knife through butter, and with twenty seconds to go, our piles are roughly the same size.
“Five… four… three… two…one!”the group chants together, and Hollis and I both lift our hands in the air like contestants onTop Chef.
“Samson!If you’d do the honors,” Darryl calls, and the scowling, tattooed chef swaggers forward, making a show of inspecting each roll in our piles and dramatically tossing out the ones where the knife protrudes too far or the paper band is sloppily stuck together.If I may say so, I have far fewer disqualified rolls.
“Final count!”he calls.“Jonesy managed sixty-nine proper silverware rolls.”
“Nice!”Rob shouts.
“And Liv had seventy-three!”
I scream in triumph as the female employees surround me in victory.Hollis makes a show of coming around the table to congratulate me.
“The champion!”he shouts, lifting our linked hands over his head.“Long may she reign!”
I quickly drop his hand, not wanting to give anyone the wrong idea about us, including myself, but when I try to walk away, Marcus calls, “What’s your favor, Liv?”
