Fall For Me

FALL FOR ME

by

Melanie Marks

 
“Back off!” I slammed down my serving tray, storming through the restaurant’s kitchen. I didn’t even care (for the most part) that all my co-workers were now staring at me. So what? I’d had enough. They were all catty witches anyway and I was ready to quit.

Riley was at my elbow in a second. “What’s going on?”

I opened my mouth, ready to rat everyone out. But Porcha cut me off, accusing Riley, “You give her all the good tables and do whatever she wants because you have the hots for her.”

Huh?!

My jaw dropped. Literally.

Riley had the hots for me? What a joke. The truth was so totally the opposite it wasn’t even funny. Not even slightly. Riley only gave me the waitressing gig as a favor to my boyfriend, Finn. If they hadn’t been best friends since like, preschool Riley would have laughed in my face when he learned I needed a job.

“He does not have the hots for me!” I snorted. “The guy hates me.”

“Jones! I don’t hate you.” Riley sounded surprised, completely baffled by the mere idea.

Yeah, right. Whatever. He was so full of it.

“Okaay,” I muttered—not even slightly believing his protest, though nice try—props to his acting and effort and everything—but whatever, I was still in a rage, so ready to quit.

 
I was going to storm off—out of the kitchen, out of the restaurant. That was my plan, but then I couldn’t help myself. I whirled back to Porcha.

 
“Yes he does. He totally hates me.”

Riley stared at me for a second, as though he couldn’t believe I really thought that. Then he let out a breath and herded Porcha and me into his office. (Well, really it was his dad’s office, since his dad owned the restaurant, but his dad hurt his back and was laid up for the whole summer—in Maui—so Riley was totally in charge—“The Boss.”)

Riley told everyone else to get back to work. I ignored their lingering, smug stares. I hated them—all of them—the bitter, mean … meanies. Grrr!

Once in his office, I turned my back to Riley, making sure Porcha understood that no matter how much he protested, our dear boss did indeed hate me and if she thought otherwise—if
any
of my co-workers thought otherwise—it was a total, complete, fat delusion. Seriously. They were clueless. Seriously. I got no special treatment. None. At all. Riley despised me. Big time.

“He always has,” I huffed. “When we were kids, he used to put rice in my hood so when I put on my coat I’d get covered in rice and everyone called me Lice Head—for years! And he used to write mean notes to me, and now he won’t even work with me. I mean, look at the schedule.” I grabbed it off his desk and shoved it in Porcha’s face. “We never, ever work the same hours, ever. Just teeny, tiny little overlaps now and then—like right now—and he’s getting off soon. Trust me, I know, the guy hates me.”

“Jones, I
don’t
hate you.”

I whipped around. “Give it up, Riley! You avoid me as much as possible.”

“Well,” Porcha ticked her tongue, still studying the schedule, seeming surprised by my indisputable proof. We had hardly any hours together—ever—and
he
made the schedule.

Porcha shrugged. “When you do work together he can’t take his eyes off you. He watches your skinny butt all through the kitchen.”

“No he doesn’t!” She was so
wrong
! “When I come to work he slinks up here to his office to get away from me.”

“Hello! It’s one-way glass!” She gestured around, sounding like,
duh!
“He can watch you, alone—totally stalk on you.”

Riley shot her a look, quirking his eyebrows, appearing slightly amused, but he used his I-can’t-believe-you-said-that tone, “I don’t do that.” Then he added, “She’s dating my best friend.”

Porcha scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Then your friend better watch out.”

“Look, Porcha, who I hire is none of your business,” Riley said. “If I want to hire my little old aunt with a wooden leg and make her head waitress that’s none of your business. You work for me.”
 

Porcha rolled her eyes, but we both knew, although Riley kept things light, he would only put up with so much crap.

He took the schedule from Porcha. “Go back to work.”

I started to follow Porcha out of the office, but Riley’s next words stopped me cold. “Not you, Jones. Stay here a minute.” He waited until Porcha was gone, then he shut the door. “I don’t hate you, Jones.”

“Right.” Immediately I could feel tears welling in my eyes. “Look Riley, it’s not a big deal.” My voice wobbled. “You’ve been really nice and helpful since my dad died and I appreciate the job. I do. But let’s face it, if I wasn’t dating Finn you’d tell me to go …”—ugh, I couldn’t think of anything clever, nothing—“… jump in a lake.”

 
Riley tilted his head, eyeing me. He was watching me so intently, my palms started to sweat and my stomach got all fluttery. The thing was, Riley didn’t usually look at me. Ever. He would look anywhere but at me. And it wasn’t as though he was shy. He wasn’t. At all. Riley was gorgeous and funny and charming, and he was awesome at the guitar and in a cool band and … Well, I could go on. On and on. All day. Seriously. ‘Cause Riley was—hot.

But face it, he despised me. Always had—since the fifth grade. And it seemed he always would. I guess it could have been because he resented me for coming between him and his best friend and all that. Maybe. But whatever the reason—because really I had no real, true idea why—Riley hated me.

Actually, it was just as well. A good thing, really. ‘Cause otherwise right then I might have pounced on him, started licking his yummy smelling neck or something. Seriously. Well, not really, of course. But yesterday, he leaned over me a couple times to grab a kitchen order and I almost lunged at him. He smelled
so
good.

Plus I’d been so messed up yesterday. Well, not just yesterday—lately. I found myself looking at Riley differently these days. Kind of craving him. Sort of. Don’t get me wrong, I’d never cheat on Finn. Never, ever. But lately—for over a month now, ever since school let out for the summer—Finn and I fought a lot. Like constantly. Suddenly I was a jealous, insecure, hurting wreck—never been like that before, never had to. But this summer Finn lifeguarded at the community pool with a gorgeous bimbo, Bianca Dumpty. She wanted his body—big time bad—and she wasn’t shy about letting him know.

So … ugh. Lately, things weren’t the same between Finn and me—not at all. He seemed sort of—not interested in me. Well, not as interested as he used to be. Or as interested as he seemed to be in Bianca. Like I said, she flirted with him like crazy. But she always had—since junior high. Only, Finn didn’t use to seem to care. Or even really notice. But now that they worked together as lifeguards—well, it’s hard not to notice Bianca in a bathing suit. So, I got that. I did. And I wasn’t mad so much as hurt. But whoa, they had become really close. And he went on and on about her these days. It had me gritting my teeth. And re-thinking our relationship—and wondering if it was time to move on to someone else. And yeah, okay, it had me kind of fantasying about Riley. Sort of. Constantly.

Still, I wanted to work things out with Finn. I did. I wanted us to somehow go back to the way things were before this summer. We’d been together forever, and I couldn’t really imagine
not
being with him. But I couldn’t help what went on in my head these days. I mean, I didn’t dream about Riley on purpose. It just … happened.

Lucky for me though, it didn’t matter how I suddenly felt about Riley, because, as I said, he hated me. Lucky, lucky me.

“Jones, you have this all wrong,” Riley said, oblivious to my overwhelming desire to sniff him up closer. “But you’ve been a good worker, so I guess I should let you think what you want. Only, I don’t see how you can think that. I take your little brother to the arcade, I let him pee in my hot tub—”

“Yes, Riley. Since my dad died you’ve been sweet—to Justin.”

“What Jones, you want to pee in my hot tub too?”

Ugh!

Riley quickly changed tack, apparently realizing that now that my hurt feelings were out in the open, he couldn’t just sweep them away—no matter how much he seemed to want to. ‘Cause there they were—right in his face.

He stared at me a moment, his eyes reflective, seeming to weigh his next statement in his mind before actually asking it. “Is there something you need from me, Jones?”

 
“No.” I sighed. He wasn’t getting it. Or he was pretending not to. “That’s not it. I don’t need anything from you—except my job, and I really do appreciate it. But you
do
avoid me. You can’t deny that, Riley. You always have.”

“Look, Jones, I’m pretty much tight with Ava these days.” His lips twitched. “I’m taken.”

He was only teasing, but still I groaned.

“Ugh! No Riley, you know that’s not what I’m talking about. You’ve avoided me for … ever. You don’t like me. You never have.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You have this so wrong, Jones.”

Grr!

“Riley, give it up. You avoid me at all costs. I just don’t get why I bug you so much.”

His eyes lost their usual cockiness. “You don’t bug me, Jones.”

The way he said that had my heart pumping all wild. He sounded completely sincere. It made me stare up at him in shock. “I—I don’t?”

He shook his head, his eyes studying me, then cleared his throat. “This conversation—it’s—” Riley didn’t finish. Instead he rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, then let out an exasperated breath. “Go back to work Jones.”

He sounded sort of … I don’t even know, tortured? It was weird. Unsettling. But I did what he said. I went back to work and tried to ignore Riley’s aversion to me. And my co-workers’ aversion to me. Screw them. Screw them all. I needed the job, and I was good at it, dang good at it. And despite what the other waitresses said, I worked hard. I did. They were just catty, backstabbing, banshees.

And who cared if I had no friends at the restaurant, anyway?