Just One Kiss (3 page)

“I’m twenty-one.” He sounds as though he’s admitting
something awful.

“Oh god, you’re
so
old!” I say sarcastically.
Silently, I wonder how I could be so bold with someone I don’t know.

“Hey! I’m not that old!” he protests. “Why, is it too old
for you? I mean, I understand if it is . . . I mea—”

“Brayden, I’m not freaking out. So you stop freaking out.” I
assure him gently. Why does he care what I think? I can’t help but smile when I
hear his relieved sigh.

“Sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m not usually like
this.”

“Like what?” I wonder.

“A total dweeb?” he offers.

I laugh. “I don’t mind. It’s kind of adorable, really.”

“Adorable. Cool, because that’s what I was going for,” he
huffs, making me chuckle. “And she laughs . . .” he grumbles,
sounding amused but still surly.

“I can’t help it!” I cry, trying to stop my giggles.

“That’s okay, I like the sound.” He sounds sincere and it
makes me stop immediately.

“Why do you keep doing that?” I ask suddenly.

“Doing what?”

“Well, you keep saying things like that,” I tell him.

“Like what?” he asks cautiously.

“Like saying it’s cute that I watch
Roseanne
, and um,
that you like my giggles,” I grumble, blushing profusely. This was ridiculous.

“Well, you are cute, and I do like your giggles,” he tells
me.

I’m immediately irritated. I know a lie when I hear one.
“I’m not cute,” I huff. I can’t believe that I almost fell for that. It’s one
thing to talk and laugh, but it’s another thing completely to lead me on.

“Whoa, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “Um, do you prefer
beautiful?” he amends.

I scoff, roll my eyes, and hang up on him. The last thing I
need is to be played the fool. Like I said, I learned my lesson the first time.

***

I keep my phone in my bedroom the next day while I watch TV
in the den. By Monday morning, I’ve gotten five texts and three calls from
Brayden, all of which I delete without reading or listening to. Ro catches up
to me on my way to class.

“Hey doll, so did that hottie call like he said he would?”

I shake my head, having already decided to lie to her. “No,
but I didn’t really expect him to anyway.”

“What an asshole! If I’d have known, I never would have
given him your number, Annie. Promise.”

“It’s okay Ro. I know you didn’t mean for me to get hurt,” I
assure her. “And I wasn’t,” I add, figuring the last thing I need is for Ro to
think he’d gotten to me. I try to smile but the entire time I’m calling myself
a liar. Because I definitely did get hurt. To hope that somebody like Brayden had
an interest in me only to find out it was a joke . . . well,
that sucked.

“Well, doll, we’re off to capture the hearts of far better
men,” Ro proclaims theatrically, weaving my arm through hers. She always seems
to know what to say to make me smile.

***

Morning comes far too early in the day and I’m running
around my room to get ready. I slip on my skinny jeans by jumping up and down
to get them over my hips. Some people, mainly my mother, tell me that skinny
jeans are only for skinny people. I disagree. I have long enough legs that the
jeans actually accentuate my curves rather than make me look larger than I am.
At least that’s what Ro said and she never lies. I also pull on a blue and
orange loose shirt, leather flip flops, a dusty pink beanie, and my golden
locket. My hair is down in loose waves as usual.

Even though there’s nobody in my life to dress up for, I
still like putting effort into the way I look. I guess I want to somehow prove
to people that I’m not just the weird, quiet girl people see me as. It doesn’t
always help but I do it anyway.

Downstairs, I run to my car and speed to school. It’s weird
driving alone since I used to carpool with Matt. Now that he’s becoming
popular, he prefers riding to school with his friends. I don’t mind; I get enough
of the kid at home and it’s nice not having to drive by the high school to drop
him off on my way to class at the community college.

Last night I got to thinking and I came to the conclusion
that I’m eighteen now and I need a job to pay for my own things. I don’t want
to rely on my parents for everything; it makes me feel dependent and immature.
That’s why today I’m going to talk to Ro about seeing if there are any job
openings at Starbucks. I get to school just in time to talk to her before my
first class.

“Hey, doll, you’re looking gorgeous as usual,” she says,
knowing I hate it when she tells me that. If she wasn’t so amazing, I’d despise
her. But instead of getting irritated, I just laugh it off.

“Yes, I know. Hey, I have a question.” I figure I better cut
to the chase.

“Hey, I might have an answer.” She grins.

“Are there any job openings at Starbucks?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, she bursts out
laughing.

“Hey, it’s not that funny! I would be a good worker!” I
exclaim, almost wounded by her laughter.

“No,” she gasps, “it’s not that.”

When she finally calms down, she regales me with how, the
night before, one of the baristas threw hot coffee in the face of an
ex-boyfriend and was fired. They’re trying to fill her place as soon as
possible.

“Dude, talk about fate,” I smile, feeling hopeful.

“Totally. Just follow me to work today and you can talk to
my boss,” she says as we head off toward our class.

Luckily for me, Ro and I both decided to get some of our
basics out of the way at community college before heading off to university for
our real degrees. And since we’re both just studying the basics, we can take a
lot of the same classes.

***

I really hope it’s this easy to find a job in the future.
Although, I seriously doubt it will be. I talked to the manager, Jon, and he
basically hired me on the spot. I’m taking home some forms to fill out for
legal purposes, but I start on Friday. I don’t really know how my parents are
going to handle me having a job. But I’ve been eighteen since September 3, two
whole months, and it’s my decision.

I pull into the driveway and sit there for a minute,
suddenly more nervous than I have been in a while. Dad’s car is filling the
garage space mine occupied this morning, so I have to leave my car in the cold.
Inside, I can already smell Dad’s spaghetti. I go into the kitchen and find him
dancing and singing along to some old ’80s music, wearing a chef’s hat and an
apron. I can’t help but laugh a little when I see him. He quickly spins,
grinning bashfully.

“Everybody else is out, so I figured you were too,” he says.

It’s kind of hard to explain; Dad is not so great with
strangers and talking to people, but he is not really shy about doing some wild
dancing in the kitchen.

I smile softly. “I just got home. I, uh, actually want to
talk to you about something,” I begin, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“Okay, shoot,” he tells me, turning back to his pasta.

I take a deep breath and bite my lip.

“I got a job today,” I say slowly.

He peeks at me over his shoulder. “A job?”

“Yeah.” I nod, nervous about what he will say next.

“Where?” He sounds curious.

“Starbucks. Ro helped. She talked to her boss and he hired
me on the spot. I start Friday.”

Instead of getting upset like I expected, he smiles.

“Good for you, kiddo. It’ll be nice to see you spending time
in the real world.”

I scoff and give him a dirty look. “I spend plenty of time
out there!” I claim.

Dad holds in his laugh and turns to face me completely. “I
know you do. I’m just saying that I think you’ll enjoy having a job. I think
it’ll be good for you.”

“Well . . . I’m glad.” I’m a little
confused. He seems happy for me.

Neither of us really say anything else important. I usually
just end up rambling around Dad. It’s not that I don’t want to talk about the
meaningful stuff, it’s just that my mom is the one I go to for advice. Dad is
the person I talk to just to talk. He’s a good sport; he always nods along and
smiles at the right moments. I don’t talk about Brayden . . . Does
that mean he’s important?

What a Small World

Tonight is Saturday and my second night working at
Starbucks. I was kind of surprised at how quickly I caught on to the different
types of drinks; it was all pretty easy. Plus, there’s a cheat sheet under the
register in case I get stuck.

I really like working. Not only because yesterday I learned
how much fun it is to work with Ro, but also because the other people here are
pretty awesome too. There’s Chance, who’s gorgeous with blond hair and smoky
blue eyes. Liz is kind of adorable, with hair that reaches the middle of her
back and a pretty smile. Jake has tousled blond hair and light brown eyes.
Carlos is a Hispanic stud and he knows he’s hot. Then there’s Jon, who spends
most of his time in the office, but comes out every once in a while to make a
joke or two before retreating back to solitude.

When I first walked in, I was so nervous I was shaking. I
really didn’t want to be made fun of by my coworkers and I hadn’t really
thought about that when I applied.

Since we all work in shifts, last night Chance and Liz were
working with Ro and me. I definitely didn’t expect to be attacked by a hug as
soon as I got behind the counter. Liz is a touchy-feely kind of person and
wanted to welcome me to the team. Chance shook my hand and introduced me to
himself and to Liz. The rest of the night was filled with jokes and laughter
while we worked. It was wonderful.

I already knew Chance, but today I got to meet Carlos and
Jake too. I feel a little bad for ruining the café’s streak for hiring gorgeous
people. Working with three guys is basically like spending six hours with
Aurora, times three. This must be where she developed her perverted side.
Though, if I’m being honest, she had it long before she started working at
Starbucks.

I’m wiping off the counter after Carlos had a mishap with a
blender and wondering why I’m so comfortable here. I think it’s because these
guys are just like Ro. She accepted me when I felt like nobody else would, and
they’re accepting me too.

“So, Annie, what are you doing tonight?” Chance asks. Ro
told Jon to put “Annie” on my nametag since that is what I go by with the
people closest to me. It’s her way of hinting that I need to be more outgoing.

“Sleeping, I hope,” I admit. What else would I be doing?

“You’re just going to go home and sleep on a Saturday
night?” he echoes skeptically.

“Yup,” I reiterate.

“Wouldn’t you rather come to a party?” He gives me a puppy
dog look that I’m sure works with women of all ages.

“Absolutely not.” I refuse to budge.

“Really. You should come. It’ll be fun,” he prods one more
time.

“I’m really okay, but thanks for the offer.” I smile
politely, hoping he’ll understand that I’m not saying no because of him.

“Fine, but if you change your mind, call me.” He takes my
phone out of my pocket and punches in his number.

There’s still another hour to go before our shift ends, and
it’s clear that Chance won’t be dropping the party subject. I almost dance with
relief when I hear the bell chime above the door, telling me we have a customer.
I grin and stick my tongue out at Chance before turning to say, “Hi, how can I . . .”
My voice drifts off as my brain registers who is standing in front of me.
Brayden.

I freeze, not sure how to act. Do I pretend I’ve never met
him? Or do I show that I know him and that he insulted me? I go with the first.

I clear my throat. “Sorry, welcome to Starbucks. What can I
get you?”

I watch as his eyes widen in recognition when he hears my
voice. “Anna,” he says quietly, his gaze flickering up to meet mine.

I suddenly feel annoyed. “Hello. What can I do for you?” I
ask once again.

“How about answer when I call or text you?” he snaps,
sounding as annoyed as I am.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I have no idea what I did wrong.” He puts his hands
on the counter.

“You called me cute!” I say, sounding as though I’m accusing
him of murder. It’s possible that I’m being dramatic, but there’s no way he
wasn’t making fun of me.

“Well it’s not like you told me you have a boyfriend or
anything!” he retaliated quickly.

I snort, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” Is he blind?

“Well then why the hell can’t I call you cute?” he growls,
irritated and possibly confused.

“Because I’m not!” I practically yell, throwing my hands in
the air. I take a deep breath and add, in a softer voice, “I don’t really know
what you’re playing at here, but I’m not falling for it.” I feel my throat
closing in a way that tells me I might cry if I continue talking, so I stop.

“I’m not playing a game.” He drops his voice too.

“Well then why would you ask for my number? Why would you
call me cute? And why would you suggest that I have a boyfriend? It’s pretty
obvious to me that this is all just a joke to you. That I am just a joke,” I
whisper harshly past the lump in my throat.

“I asked for your number because I thought it was awesome
the way that you acted around Zander. I called you cute because you watch dorky
TV shows and I think that’s adorable. And I suggested that you have a boyfriend
because it doesn’t make any sense to me that you’re single,” he whispers back
earnestly.

I scoff. “You need to stop complimenting me. I’m not buying
it. I own a mirror,” I tell him.

“Look, if you don’t want to believe that I look at you and
see somebody I like, you don’t have to. Just know that I’m not lying to you, you’re
lying to yourself.” He stands up straight again, still looking me directly in
the eyes.

I bite the inside of my cheek in order to stop myself from
arguing further. This conversation was getting ridiculous. “What can I get for
you, Brayden?” I ask him, something in my voice just a little bit broken.