Chapter Twenty-One Sienna
Chapter Twenty-One
Sienna
I just had the best night of my life. Like hands down, that was the most earth-shattering sexual experience I’ve ever had, and of course it was with Gavin.
I knew it would continue to be good between us. Our first time together wasn’t a one-off, lucky moment. He is just ... oh my God.
I don’t have words to describe how he makes me feel.
He didn’t stay after he gave me my second orgasm. Or was that my third? My third. He pulled on his clothes while I watched him from my bed, sleepy and barely able to keep my eyes open. He kissed me before he left, murmuring, “See you tomorrow.”
And then he was gone.
I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep and woke up more invigorated than I’ve felt in a long time. I have to work at Back Yard Bowl this morning, and I show up promptly at ten o’clock, grateful I at least didn’t get the closing shift. The moment I’m finished, I’m heading over to Everleigh’s and we’re getting ready for the party together. I have a dress already planned out and everything, and I fully expect Everleigh to bring it tonight too. My original plan was to show these dumb men—Gavin and Nico—what they’re missing.
But Gavin isn’t missing anything. He was so mad when he showed up at my apartment last night. Jealous, thinking I was still with Ryland. I didn’t mean to provoke him by having dinner with Ryland, but that entire night worked in my favor. And while I feel bad for using Ryland, I really was trying to move on.
Gavin’s proved that’s impossible. He can’t move on either. How are we going to navigate this situation now? We didn’t really discuss next steps, but I’m guessing he doesn’t want to tell anyone else, and for once ...
For once I agree with him. Going public will open us up to all sorts of things. Plenty of speculation and opinions that I don’t want to hear. Gavin is a celebrity on campus—and in Santa Mira in general. The moment they find out he’s steadily seeing someone, the little sister of one of his best friends who’s also on the team? The rumors are going to run rampant. They already do when it comes to Gavin. People are wondering about his love life all the time. Do I want all eyes on me?
Not yet. That sounds way too intimidating.
Maybe it won’t be so bad, having a secret relationship with him for a while. He can concentrate on football and having a successful season, and I can cheer him on as a supportive “friend” who allows him to fuck her endlessly whenever he wants. And once the season is over, we can make our relationship public. If we make it that long.
What am I saying? If I’ve been this patient for as long as I have, we are going the distance. The poor man doesn’t have a chance of getting away from me, not that I think he wants to. I saw the way he looked at me, touched me. His growly “this ass belongs to me” comment after he made me come so hard; I saw stars.
Talk about possessive. I never thought I wanted to be owned, but when it comes to Gavin, I guess I do. He can own me all night long.
Sigh. I need to get all thoughts of dirty, delicious sex out of my brain and concentrate on work. At least my shift is only for five hours.
The moment I clock in, I get straight to work, tossing all the trash left behind on the tables and wiping them down. There’s eventually a lull in customers coming in around ten thirty, and I go behind the counter to help clean up, wishing I could work the register. It’s the easiest task and the least messy. The only issue that could come up is disgruntled customers, but everyone’s generally content when they come in here, and I think it’s the atmosphere. No one who works at Back Yard Bowl is tense or in a frantic rush. We’re all mellow and friendly, and I love it.
“I’m taking a break,” Matty announces to me after he rings up the last customer and we’re all alone. Our general manager and the owner’s son, Matty is twenty-five and a lifelong Santa Mira resident and university graduate too. He’s also the typical surfer dude, with his long wavy dirty-blond hair that’s prettier than mine and a never-ending positive attitude. “You missed out, Sienna. It was even busier when we first opened this morning.”
“I’m glad I missed it,” I say with a laugh, wiping down the counter with a fresh, hot rinsed rag. “Though I’m hoping the lunch rush will keep us going.”
I prefer to be busy while I’m here. Time flies by faster that way.
“Don’t worry. It’ll get busy again soon,” he reassures me.
“Maybe I can pick your brain a little more,” I suggest. The last few shifts we’ve worked together, I asked Matty endless questions about running a business. Specifically a business that deals with serving food. Back Yard Bowl isn’t a traditional restaurant, but it’s not necessarily close to being an ice cream stand either.
My parents have been encouraging my dream. To the point that my mother helped me choose a few business courses I’m going to take next quarter. My dad has been searching on the internet for cheap freezers, and while they’re all out of my price range—we’re not made of money—it does help me to see what I’ll need to save up for.
This dream might seem silly to some, but I’m truly excited about it. I’m grateful for Matty’s advice, too, because he’s got a lot of insightful information about the restaurant and food scene in Santa Mira.
“Sure—” Matty starts, the little bell hanging above the door ringing, indicating someone is coming inside.
A woman enters the shop, carrying a massive floral arrangement that’s so tall, we don’t even see her face. I watch as she carefully maneuvers her way through the tables and chairs until she’s at the front counter and carefully setting the vase down.
“Can I help you?” Matty asks, sounding amused.
“Delivery for Sienna Cooper,” the woman announces, glancing over at me. “You Sienna?”
I nod, stunned. Giddy with excitement because no one has sent me flowers before. “Those are for me?”
“Sure are.” She smiles brightly. “Have a nice day!”
I don’t move until the woman has left the store, and when I glance over at Matty, I find him watching me, curiosity written all over his face.
“Flowers, Sienna? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. Or girlfriend, or ... whatever. I’m not one to judge someone for whatever their sexual preference is.” Matty holds his hands up in front of himself in a defensive gesture.
His dismay at potentially offending me knocks me out of the shock that came over me, and I laugh. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Matty. I don’t have a clue who these flowers are from.”
Okay, I’m lying. I have a sneaking suspicion they’re from Gavin. A thank-you for blowing his mind last night? I know he enjoyed that blow job I gave him. I’m eager to do it again as soon as I can. I’m just surprised he would be so obvious, sending me flowers at work. Did I even tell him where I was working?
I don’t think so, but I can’t remember.
“There’s a card included,” Matty points out, and for a moment, I don’t want to open it, almost afraid to read what’s inside. What if Gavin says something stupid, like Thanks for the friendship ? Thanks for the friendly fuck; that was amazing!
I wouldn’t put it past him to say something dumb like that. He’s not the best with his words, but would he really send me flowers and write a message like that? God, I hope not.
Or ... maybe he sent me flowers after realizing last night that he’s madly in love with me. Once he saw Ryland and me together, that sealed the deal. Now he’s proclaiming his undying love for me, and we’ll live together in blissful contentment for the rest of our lives.
Ha! I sound absurd even in my thoughts.
Plucking the card from the plastic holder that’s nestled among the flowers, I open the tiny envelope and read what’s written inside.
I know how you feel, but Sienna, I can’t stop thinking about you. I hope you’ll give me another chance. It would mean the world to me if you did.—Ryland
Disappointment crushes my good mood, and I sigh, hanging my head. Ryland sent the flowers? He wants another chance? The man doesn’t get the hint, and I wasn’t even hinting. I’m not interested in him like that. Especially after everything that happened between me and Gavin.
“That bad, huh?” Matty asks after I’m silent for way too long.
I glance up at him to find he’s studying me, concern in his gaze. “Kind of?” I wince, dropping the card onto the counter.
“You could’ve fooled me from the expression on your face just now. I worried maybe your cat died and someone was sending their condolences.” He frowns. “You don’t have a cat, do you?”
“I have no pets. Definitely no dead ones.” Matty always mentions random things. His mind must be a wild place to be.
“Good.” His relief is obvious. “You just looked ... really disappointed when you read that card.”
“I did?” That’s because I was.
“Yeah, definitely.” Matty nods. “Did an ex send you those or what?”
“No. I went on a date last night with a guy I went to high school with, but when he asked if we could do it again, I told him I didn’t see him beyond a friend. He’s the one who sent them.”
“Even after you told him you wanted to stay friends?” Matty whistles low. “Dang, he must have it bad.”
“You think so?”
“Why else would he send you flowers?” He studies the arrangement, his eyes going wide. “I’m not one to send flowers a lot, but that right there is impressive.” He waves a hand at the bouquet. “And expensive,” he adds.
A sigh leaves me, and I study the flowers. Matty’s right. It’s a gorgeous bouquet. So colorful and with a variety of flowers—and it definitely looks expensive. “It’s too bad. He’s a nice guy—just not the guy for me.”
“Nice guys always finish last,” Matty mutters, shaking his head. “I should know. I always find myself in last place.”
“Aw, Matty.” I feel bad, and I push the vase of flowers closer to him. “You want my flowers?”
“What? No way. They’re yours, even if you’re not into the guy.” Matty levels his serious gaze upon me. “Maybe you need to tell him that again, Sienna. Don’t string this guy along. Trust me, it hurts.”
“I’m not stringing him along—more like he’s doing this to himself. But you’re right. I should probably talk to him again about this because clearly my words didn’t sink in.” I study Matty. “Have you been strung along by someone before?”
“Multiple times. Girls. Guys. I don’t discriminate. I fall in love with a person’s soul, not their gender, but I get trampled on time and again.” He grimaces. “Everyone says I’m too nice, but I can’t help it.”
“You probably are too nice, but that’s a great quality to have.” I give him a hug because I can’t resist, and while I know this probably isn’t something I should be doing with my boss, he hugs me back, albeit briefly.
We spring away from each other when the bell that hangs over the door tinkles, announcing someone has walked in, and Matty waves a hand at the flowers. “Take them to the back, please?”
“Will do, sir.” I salute him, making him laugh, and grab the flowers so I can rush them into the back room, setting the vase on Matty’s desk. Grabbing my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, I tap out a quick text to Ryland.
It’s best to get this over and done with. I feel like a shit for doing it after he sent me something so beautiful, but I have to.
Me: Thank you for the flowers. You didn’t have to do that.
Like, he really didn’t. It would’ve been best if he’d left me alone completely, but here we are.
Ryland: You’re welcome. And I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I hope you like them.
Me: They’re beautiful.
I press my lips together, contemplating how I should word this. It’s a delicate situation, and I don’t want to be a complete bitch toward him. Maybe I’m channeling my inner Matty and being too nice.
Me: I really appreciate them, but I did tell you how I felt about you last night. I hope you understand.
He responds quickly.
Ryland: You can’t blame a guy for trying, can you?
I release an irritated breath before I send him a reply.
Me: Let’s just keep this friendly.
Ryland: Define friendly.
Is he for real right now?
“Sienna! Can you come out and help, please?” Matty pops his head through the doorway, and I glance up from my phone, feeling bad.
“Sorry. I was texting the guy who sent me the flowers, and he keeps talking to me.” I set my phone down. “I’m coming.”
“Thanks.”
I follow Matty back out and wash my hands before I help a customer at the register—go me. I stay there for the next couple of hours since the customers stream in at a steady pace, taking my mind off my little problem with Ryland. But I’m going to have to deal with it again.
Hopefully he won’t be too difficult.