Calm Like Home (2 page)

Chapter 2

“Okay, usual stakes. Loser does the cleaning at the end of the night,” I overhear Damien telling Adam as I reach the chef’s line to collect my table’s food.

With the two of them back from school, the restaurant has taken on an increasingly playful vibe. They seem to have made it their mission to keep every shift entertaining. On particularly busy nights they’ve even started making bets as to which server will get swamped and lose his temper in the back.

My gaze lingers on Adam as he scans the dining room. His arms are crossed over his chest, causing his shirt to cling to the muscles in his arms. I run the risk of being caught with my mouth hanging open so I shift my eyes to Damien. His chiseled features are pulled into a calculating stare as he surveys the restaurant. Finally he nods his head with conviction, having made up his mind.

“I’m betting on Carly. That tiny girl is feisty as hell
and
she looks hungover. I’m guessing she won't want to deal with any shit tonight.”

Adam points towards Jim as he emerges from the kitchen. “Nah, he’s going to be the one to lose it for sure. I’ll even bet you double it's because Alexa messes up an order.” His eyes are brimming with amusement, trained intently on my face even though he’s talking to Damien.

“Now I'm going to be extra careful all night just so you lose,” I taunt, thrilled to have an excuse to be in on the game.

He grins widely and nudges Damien's arm. “Just wait, man. I’ve got this in the bag.”

“All right.” Damien eyes me ominously. “You better not fuck this up for me.”

“Like that’s even an option,” I reply sweetly. “Prepare to lose, Adam.”

Now that he’s betting against me, I’m determined to get every order right. There’s no doubt Jim will be pissed if I mess up, so the rest is on me. I pay careful attention when each table orders and double-check the computer screen before submitting the ticket. I’m already counting down the minutes until the shift is over and I can rub my flawless night in his face when I get seated with a party of twelve. Most of them have special meal requests so it’s taking me longer than usual to punch in their order at the computer. I’m nearing the end of the list, only two more to go, when it hits me. There should be three more on my list.
Oh hell!
I quickly try to picture the woman’s face, try to conjure any inkling as to what she may have wanted.
Nothing. I’ve got nothing.

Adam spots me puzzling in front of the computer screen and sidles up beside me, leaning his back against the counter so he’s facing me. I can feel him studying my features, his eyes scanning over my face, but I refuse to look at him just yet. Maybe I can still pull this off somehow.
Come on Alexa, think. What did she order?

“About done?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. His voice is way too inquisitive. He must know something is up.

“Almost,” I say simply, pretending to review the order.
Think!

“Kind of looks like you’re stuck.”

I can’t miss the delight in his delivery. He’s definitely onto me. My eyes slowly drift over to meet his, resigned.

“All right you caught me. I’m short an order.”

“Finally!” he calls out excitedly, rubbing his hands briskly together, a conniving smile broadening his lips. The corners of his eyes crinkle with excitement. “I knew you couldn’t keep it up all night!”

“Hey! The night’s not over!” I exclaim. “It’ll come to me. I just need a second to think.”

“So it might get really confusing for you if I start naming off a bunch of dishes? Was it spaghetti and meatballs? Lasagna? Chicken parmesan?” He lists entrees off in quick succession, each one coming faster than the last.

“Stop it!” I squeal, but he doesn’t let up. Meal after meal pours from his lips like he’s reading from the menu.

I attempt to shush him with my outstretched palm, my fingertips splaying over his cheeks as I try to muffle his voice, giggling all the while. His onslaught of entrees carries on, his eyes radiant behind my hand, lips colliding with my skin. I pretend not to notice my entire body warming to his touch and keep my hand in place. I’ll take any excuse I can to keep my hand pressed against him.

“I almost had it!” I exclaim amidst my laughter.

When his mouth finally stills, I tentatively withdraw my palm, eyeing him with suspicion, wondering if he’s finally managed to name every dish we serve. He grins back at me innocently, biting his lip.

“I’m sorry, Lex.” He says the words slowly, his voice exaggeratedly sweet, bordering on angelic. “I don’t know what came over me.”

It’s completely over the top. We both burst into a fit of laughter, his body folding forward into mine as he clutches his stomach, my head collapsing onto his shoulder. The instant my forehead connects with his body I feel a current searing through muscle and bone, awakening every last atom within me. I freeze, terrified to move any closer, not wanting to pull away. His laughter subsides and his face tilts in towards mine. The warmth of his breath caresses the side of my face as he whispers into my ear, “Can we be serious for a second?”

Suddenly my heart is thundering in my chest. His words hang thickly in the air around me, making it hard to breathe. I’m all too aware of how close he is. If I turned my head even slightly, my lips would brush his. I wonder how they’d taste and how they’d feel pressed up against my own.

His voice is low and husky when he finally goes on, his mouth lightly grazing my ear as he says, “I really think it was the Marsala.”

My head rolls back with another swell of laughter at his unexpected comment. My eyes are tearing up from laughing so hard. I move my hand to wipe them away and that’s when I catch sight of Damien. He’s standing a couple feet away watching our exchange with arms crossed and a look that could kill.

“You better lock it up, Clausen. I'm not doing double the cleaning duty on account of your dumb ass.”

I burst out laughing again. “This doesn't count! I really think it was the Marsala!”

“You better hope so.” Adam smiles broadly and taps the key for me on the computer screen.

Even after he’s gone, I have to fight to regain my composure. I swear I can still feel him pressed against me, can feel his breath whisper soft on my skin, hear his voice low in my ear. Try as I might, a cheesy grin is practically etched onto my face. Annabelle passes me on my way back to my section and eyes me suggestively, clearly seeing Adam-euphoria written in my gaze and in my smile. Her attention makes me feel all the more ridiculous, and yet the grin refuses to dissipate.

When it’s time for the party’s food to come out, Damien and Adam help me carry it out to the table so they can watch the exchange. Eyeing the woman with the questionable order sweetly, I set the plate in front of her.

“Here’s your Chicken Marsala ma'am.”

She looks surprised for an instant and Adam's face lights up, thinking things are going in his favor. Long, silent seconds tick by before the woman finally meets my eye and replies, “Oh, thank you! This looks delicious.”

Damien bursts out with a booming “Yessss!” and high fives me. Adam retreats from the table with his hands held up in defeat.

“There's still time,” he says brightly as we walk towards the kitchen. “I just need to up my distraction game.”

“No way, dude!” Damien cuts him off. “You can't influence the bets. Face it, you're stuck cleaning the chef’s line tonight
and
doing the beverage station for me. Alexa, what do you have? He should have to do your side duty too for betting against you.”

I grin widely. “Great idea, Damien! It’s just the soda machine. It won’t be that hard.”

“That’s what she said,” Damien intones, not missing a beat. He can always be counted on to turn even the dullest of statements into a dirty joke.

Adam chooses to ignore him, letting out a slight groan at the added workload, but doesn’t protest further.

At the end of the shift I stick around to help Adam with all the cleaning assignments. In all actuality, staying to clean with him sounds more appealing than doing just about anything else. Damien, on the other hand, has no problem whatsoever taking off as soon as his tables are empty. He pulls off his tie and claps Adam on the back, calling out, “See yah, sucker!” before heading out the door.

I grab a washrag and follow Adam out to the open chef’s line that spans the length of one side of the dining room, not listening when he tells me I don’t need to help, and we begin wiping the surface down. Adam intentionally wipes in my way and his hand collides with mine. He grins at me mischievously and says, “Watch where you’re wiping, Clausen,” but continues to get in my way. By the time we start on the soda machine the restaurant is completely empty except for the two of us and Jim, who’s sequestered in the back office doing paperwork. I’m soaking the nozzles in hot water when Adam begins pelting me with ice cubes from the ice chest. A fat cube lands in my apron pocket, melting around my chocolates and loose change. My hand darts instinctively into my pocket to rescue the candies.

“Oh no, not the chocolates!” he cries with exaggerated distress.

“You think that’s
so
funny?” I smirk, tossing one at him. He sidesteps smoothly out of the way, avoiding the impact. When he leans forward to scoop more ice from the bin I try again. This time the chocolate lands in the breast pocket of his shirt. His mouth drops open and his eyes flash to mine.

“Oh, now it’s on!” he chuckles.

He scoops a cup into the ice bin and chases me down the long, narrow kitchen, lobbing cubes at my backside.

“Wait!” I squeal with laughter when I reach the end, panting on the opposite side of a steel prep table from him.

He acts like he’s retreating, turning away with slow steps, but swiftly pelts me again, three cubes at once.

Jim must hear my shrieks because he comes out of the office to investigate, hands on his hips, brow furrowed. Even on good days, Jim has more attitude than a room full of middle schoolers, his temper noticeably flaring anytime he catches people fooling around on the clock.

“What’re you still doing here, Alexa? I cut you hours ago.”

“Adam and I are doing side duty.” I try to make my voice sound nonchalant, like I wasn’t just having the time of my life
cleaning
on a Friday night.

“Doesn't sound like side duty. Sounds like playing. Go home.” He stomps back towards the office, grumbling under his breath.

Adam sets his cup of ice down. “We’re almost done, Lex. You should go. You've given up enough of your night to help me.”

“I really don't mind,” I assure him.

“Well that’s a relief,” he exhales, smiling and tossing me a washrag. “It’s nice having you here.”

It’s nice having me here.
Everything inside me flutters to life at the possibility in that statement.

When we finally finish up, Adam walks with me to my car. The parking lot is mostly dark, faintly illuminated by the pale glow from the street lamps scattered intermittently between the stalls. It’s eerily quiet; the only sound is the crunch of our shoes against the pavement. When we reach my car he turns to face me, silently scanning over my features, his eyes bright yet unreadable. I wish he’d look at me like that forever.

His gaze drops and he clears his throat. “Thanks for your help tonight. You really didn't have to stay. You won the bet.”

”Next time you lose I’m sticking you with all of it for sure.” I gently push his arm in jest, wanting desperately to recapture that look in his eyes, even if only for a second.

He nudges me back, a slight smile edging out. “Losing tonight was a fluke.” He toes the ground by my car, his smile fading as he adds, ”I should’ve known better than to bet against you.”

He looks up again, a soft expression on his face, his dark eyes piercing mine. I feel his gaze ricochet through my insides, lighting me up from within. We stand frozen, eyes locked, neither of us moving, until he finally turns to climb into his car, saying brightly, “Thanks again for the help, Lex. You’re a great friend.”

There it is. That
word
again. It cuts like a knife, searing hotly into my chest, bringing me back down to earth. All the bliss and euphoria from our night together drains away, leaving in its wake nothing but questioning and self-doubt as I watch his taillights disappear.

If I’m being honest, I don’t know why Adam
would
go for me. I’m plain where he’s bold
.
I’m muted where his whole personality is loud. I've spent my whole life in the middle, floating along midway between passion and despondency, never experiencing those extremes. Never ignited. Never magic. Never fire. That's Annabelle. I'm the simple one, the one who chose a math major because it's what's easy not because it's inspired. My whole life has been that way, always middle ground. My parents are happily married. My dad kisses my mom goodbye every day as he leaves for work. We have happy family dinners whenever my brother is back in town from P.A. school. It's always very cookie cutter. I've never broken the mold.

And sure guys have asked me out, I've dated, I've “gone for the gold” as Annabelle would say, but it's always been flat. It’s always been comfortable. There’ve been no dramatic breakups, no falling in love, just two people getting together then slowly coming apart. I've never fallen. I've never soared. I’ve never let my guard down. Sometimes it feels like my whole life I've never experienced one thing that’s truly woken me up. It’s all been so bland.

And Adam… Adam is fire. Adam is magnetic. Adam is gravity, that undeniable pull no one can avoid. He is bold and intoxicating and luminescent. Why would he go for me? Plain, simple me. I don't know who Annabelle thinks she's kidding.

Chapter 3

I take my time driving to Annabelle’s apartment, still needing time to decompress after the rollercoaster evening I spent with Adam. When I arrive, she has a massive pizza spread across her coffee table.

I dangle a bottle of Moscato in front of her. “Always keeping it classy. Pizza and wine.”