Layla
Dear Lisa,
Today was my first day working at a bakery on campus. It pays well, and it’ll give me the experience I need to one day open my own. I know you said I should focus on more realistic ambitions, but I’m not giving up on my dream just yet.
The girls who work with me seem nice. They invited me to a party on Friday. I told them I’d think about it.
I won’t go.
I never go.
Cara, the girl training me, was teaching me how to work the coffee machine when a group of football players walked in.
She told me to take their orders, then whispered that she’s recently started dating one of the guys and planned to hide out back until they left, because, in her words, she “looked terrible.”
I recognized a few of them from my business class. They were loud the second they stepped into the bakery, which seemed to annoy some of the other customers.
“What can I get you?” I asked.
The tall one that with his back to me turned around. He smiled, then shouted to his teammates, asking for their orders. His friends moved to a table by the windows, dragging chairs across the tiled floor to make enough room.
He smiled at me again. His hair was somewhere between blond and brown, not seeming to know which one it favored more. His eyes, a deep brown, stared directly into mine. If I wasn’t so determined to never date a football player, I might have said he was attractive.
“You’re new,” he said.
“Yep.”
I turned away and tried to remember everything Cara had just told me about the coffee machine. I pressed a button and cringed as it made a high pitched whining sound.
“What’s your name?” The noise didn’t seem to bother him.
I gave up on the coffee machine and started packaging the pastries he’d asked for. Then I grabbed a bottle of Mountain Dew from the fridge. He leaned against the glass display as I collected his order.
I ignored his question, even though I found myself glancing at him involuntarily.
“I’m Ben. Ben Matthews.”
I’d heard his name before. He’s the quarterback. If campus gossip is to be believed, he’s going to be drafted into the NFL.
In the two years I’ve attended LSC, I’ve never been to a game. I don’t have any intentions of breaking that record.
My silence didn’t give him the hint I hoped it would.
“I’m a senior. What about you?”
I returned to the coffee machine.
“Sophomore,” I answered this time. I didn’t want to get in trouble for being rude to customers on my first day.
“So she does speak.” He grinned.
His grin annoyed me.
“What’s your major?”
I finally got the coffee machine to work. I fought the urge to jump up and down for figuring it out on my own. I made the coffees and set them on the counter, beside the bottle of Mountain Dew.
He didn’t reach for them right away.
“You know, I’m a regular here. So we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.” He picked up one of the pastries from the white paper bag and took a bite. “It’d be real nice to know your name. Since I gave you mine and all.”
“I never asked for your name.”
His teammates returned to his side, reaching around him to grab their coffees.
“How’d it go, Layla?” Cara bounced back behind the counter.
“Layla.” Ben repeated. “I like it. It suits you.”
I pushed the bottle of Mountain Dew along the counter. “Goodbye, Ben.”
“Hello, Layla.” He took the can, winked, and left.