CHAPTER TWO
“What the heck is that?” The lunch rush was over so, per usual, I was organizing the register and completing the other end-of-shift tasks while Oliver was creating the most bizarre—and oftentimes disgusting—concoctions he could think of as a way to pass the time. The last few hours of our Saturday shift at The Green Pepper were always quiet and dull.
“It’s a macaroni and cheeseburger.” He presented it to me in a paper-lined red basket.
“That’s gross,” I said scrunching up my nose.
“Combining two of everyone’s favorite foods into one delicious burger. It’s genius. I’m going to suggest it to Wade as next week’s special,” Oliver said before taking a huge bite.
“It looks disgusting.”
“Aren’t you going to at least taste it?” He held it out for me and some cheesy noodles fell out of it onto the countertop.
“Absolutely not.” I gagged.
“You like macaroni, right?”
“Not with ketchup and pickles.” I finished organizing the money in the register so that every one of the bills was facing the same direction and placed the stacks back into the drawer.
“Don’t think of it as macaroni with ketchup and pickles. Think of it as an extra cheesy cheeseburger with noodles,” he said with a goofy smile on his face. Oliver was such a nerd, but a lovable nerd. He had been my neighbor since before we could walk.
In fact, my mom frequently liked to remind us that we used to take baths together.
Not something I liked to visualize. But despite the fact that we’ve known each other our entire lives, we didn’t really become best friends until fourth grade. You know, since we both were convinced the other had cooties.
Dave Abernathy was beating Oliver up on the playground after school, so I tackled Dave to the ground and managed to give him a bloody nose before a teacher came and broke up the fight. The three of us earned three days worth of detention and Oliver and I had been inseparable ever since.
“That doesn’t make it sound any more appetizing,” I told him, my nose still scrunched up in disgust.
“C’mon, you’ve gotta try this.”
“I’m going to go with no on that one, but maybe next time.” I gave him a condescending pat on the arm.
The bell chimed indicating a customer just walked through the door. I looked up, ready to greet our newest customer, only to find myself staring at probably the best looking guy ever to walk the planet. He embodied the kind of good looks that belonged on the silver screen.
Peyton Holmes: God’s gift to Mankind and the current star of my daydreams.
Those eyes.
That smile.
Those teeth.
Swoon.
“He’s coming over here,” I mumbled. My heart was pounding in my ears. My hands were clammy. I was breathing like I just ran a mile at full speed. Get it together, Cami.
“Of course he’s coming over here. What did you expect him to do? Just come in here, sit down and not order anything to eat?” Oliver muttered with a tinge of annoyance before taking the cheeseburger monstrosity to the kitchen with him.
I glared at him pointedly, but since his back was to me he didn’t see me mean-mugging him before I turned my attention back to Peyton.
Smile, Cami, smile.
He sauntered over to the counter wearing a plain white t-shirt and an artistically faded pair of designer jeans. Sexy, but casual in the best sort of way.
“What can I get for you today?” I tried to play it cool, but my heart was thumping right out of my chest so my voice sounded a little breathless. I hoped it came off as sort of sexy and not sort of creepy.
“Yeah, I’ll take the Italian sub with chips and a soda, to go,” he replied and I couldn’t help but notice that even his voice was perfect. “Oh, hold the onions please.”
I liked a guy who worried about things like bad breath.
I rang up his total as Oliver put his order together. The Green Pepper was only a small, family owned bistro so the two of us were capable of running it on our own on slow days like today. Oliver and I worked well together. I would man the front counter, taking orders and the drinks while he handled all the food stuff. We only sold sandwiches, so it wasn’t like it required a lot of cooking, and what little cooking was involved was usually done before the lunch rush.
And by rush I mean the maybe ten people who came to dine in the quaint deli.
“That’ll be $8.95,” I told him with my best flirty smile—it always worked.
He handed me a twenty dollar bill and I gave him his change just as Oliver finished up the sandwich. I doubted any of the other employees were as efficient as Oliver and me.
Peyton had asked for his food to go so I scrambled to come up with something to keep him here just little bit longer.
“You’re in my first hour, right?” I asked with a coy smile, like I didn’t already have his entire schedule memorized.
I also already knew his middle name (Thomas), birthdate (April 11th), and his mother’s maiden name (Petree), but he didn’t need to know that because if he did, he’d probably think I was some sort of stalker. In reality I just took researching my conquests very seriously.
“Um, yeah. You’re, uh, Cami?” He remembered my name!
“Yep, that’s me. The one and only.” That was a little awkward. Recover, recover!
He smiled. He had really nice teeth. Straight and white. Good dental hygiene is very important.
“I’m Peyton.”
“I know.” Did I seriously just say that? “So, uh, you’re new, right?” That’s not any better—of course he’s new. C’mon, brain, work with me here.
It was like I was unable to form an intelligent sentence around this guy. I blame the perfect teeth for turning my brain into mush.
“Yep,” was all that he said. So he wasn’t very loquacious. It was okay. Talking’s overrated anyway. Still, I wasn’t ready to give up yet.
“Sooo, what brought you to Stone Creek?” I asked, fishing for anything that might keep him here a little longer.
“My dad got a new job.”
“Oh, cool, me too.” Wait, what? “I mean, my dad didn’t get a job. I mean, he has a job, just not a new job.” Ohmygod. This was a total nightmare.
Somewhere in the back I heard Oliver chuckle at my expense. Jerkface.
“That’s good,” Peyton said, chuckling softly. Apparently I had lost all capability of engaging in a normal conversation. “Well, I’ll see you around, Cami.”
“You betcha.” You betcha? What the hell was wrong with me today? I normally wasn’t this incompetent when it came to talking to boys. As soon as Peyton left the building I slid down to the floor and covered my face with both of my hands.
“Smooth, very smooth,” Oliver teased as soon as the coast was clear.
“Shut up!”
“He’ll be throwing pebbles at your window in no time.”
I took the wet towel off the counter and whipped him in the leg with as much force as I could muster.
“Ow! Jesus, Cami, chill. I’m just teasing you,” he said as he rubbed the tender spot on his thigh.
“You might not believe it now, especially after that fiasco, but I will be dating him by the end of the semester,” I said smugly. I wasn’t being arrogant either. Okay, maybe a little. The thing is, when I decided I wanted a boy to be my boyfriend, that boy became my boyfriend. Of course, none of my relationships ever lasted very long since the guys tended to get too serious and I could only handle so much mushiness before I wanted to vomit.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want an epic love story—I did. I totally, absolutely wanted to fall in love, but so far nobody had ever felt right. That didn’t stop me from trying though—that part was just too much fun.
“What’s so great about him anyway?” Oliver asked seriously.
“Seriously? You have eyes, don't you? He’s perfection incarnate, that’s what’s so great about him.”
“He’s just a Pretty Boy.”
“I bet he has really nice abs too.”
“Yeah, because that’s the most important factor in a relationship.” Oliver rolled his eyes as he wiped down the green and white checkered counter top.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He just shook his head.
Oliver didn’t say much to me for the rest of our shift which was strange, but it gave me plenty of time to daydream about Peyton while I restocked straws and napkins, so I didn’t mind too much. It was nearly two in the afternoon, which meant the next shift would be coming in about an hour, so we had to make sure everything was restocked.
“Are we still on for tonight?” Oliver asked as he untied his apron, revealing his favorite Flash shirt. I thought about being smart and saying: ‘Oh so you’re talking to me now?’ but I decided to forgive him for icing me out since it was Saturday night and Saturday night meant movie night.
For as long as I could remember it was a standing date: Oliver and me in my living room, watching movies and eating movie theater popcorn (it’s the best) and way, way too much candy.
“Of course. I’ll stop by the movie theater on the way home to grab the popcorn. I know it’s your turn this time, but please don’t pick out anything too scary. Or gross.”
“I make no promises,” he said with a grin.
“No zombie beavers.’
“But—”
“I had nightmares for weeks! You ruined furry little rodents for me forever.”
“Oh I know, you still won’t say hi to Fred when you come over.” Fred was Oliver’s guinea pig. And he was right, which was sad, because I used to love Fred.
Stupid zombie beavers.
I smiled. “Pick something funny. I’m in the mood to laugh until I cry.”
“I’ll see what I can do. See you in a bit.”
The movie theater parking lot was already full which was pretty usual for a Saturday. I didn’t get the allure though. I’d much rather watch movies from the comfort of my living room than the uncomfortable, stained, and smelly theater seats, so unless it was the latest DC or Marvel movie that Oliver was dying to see, I only went to the theater for the popcorn.
I timed my arrival perfectly so everyone would already be in their movies. Not only did I avoid the crowd this way, but that’s when the popcorn was the freshest. Oliver preferred his popcorn freshly popped. I wasn’t nearly as picky. In fact, there was something to be said about day-old movie theater popcorn. We always got a large bag so I’d have leftovers after our movie nights to snack on the next day.
Chris Byers was working like normal and smiled when he saw me walk in. He grabbed a large bucket and held it up. “The usual?”
“You know it.”
Chris was a nice guy. We dated briefly sophomore year, but he went all mushy on me after only a couple of weeks (total record by the way; most guys waited until our first month anniversary to freak me out with their over-the-top romantic gestures) and I was soooo over it by then. He cried when I broke up with him, but we’re cool now.
Probably because I never told anyone he cried.
I wasn’t heartless after all.
“Don’t forget extra butter,” I reminded him.
“Already drenched it,” he said with a wink. “Any candy?”
“Obviously...give me a box of gummy bears and some chocolate covered raisins.”
Gummy bears were for me. The raisins were for Oliver.
He had questionable taste in candy.
“How’s football going?” I asked as he totaled everything up.
“Good. I think I’ll get to start this year.”
“That’s fantastic!” I said, and I meant it. “I might actually have to come out to see you play.”
“Cami Andrews at a football game?” he mocked. “Now that’s a sight I’d love to see.”
Football wasn’t really my thing. Besides, Oliver played soccer so I was far more likely to be at a soccer game than the football stadium.
“Well, I’ll have to make that happen then— just for you,” I said with a flirty smile, and his face beamed in response. Boys were so easy to make happy.
“Thanks, Chris,” I said after I paid. “See you Monday.”
“Yep, see ya.” He had that sort of hopeful look in his eyes that maybe someday I’d give him another chance, but that was as likely as a Kardashian winning the Pulitzer.
It just wasn’t going to happen.
It was nothing about him necessarily. He was attractive and athletic and he wasn’t a complete moron, which was a plus. The thing that was wrong was the same thing that’s always wrong in my relationships. As soon as the spark of a new and exciting romance fizzled out, I realized that I didn’t like them as much as they liked me. And, well, after that, what was the point?
When I got home Oliver was already there in my kitchen with my mother. She worked nights at the hospital so she was in her scrubs and getting her bag together while making conversation with my best friend.
“And how’s soccer going?” my mom asked him.
“Good, we have a few new freshmen who are pretty good.”
“Young blood. That’s always good. They will be awesome by the time they are seniors.”
“Definitely,” he agreed. “Though it would be nice if they would be awesome this year so we have a shot at state.”
“Oh, you know you single-handedly carry the team,” I said, setting our snacks on the table.
“Camille!” Mom greeted me. “I’m glad you made it home before I had to leave. I was worried I wouldn’t get a chance to talk to you before work. What time are you planning on heading to Grandpa’s tomorrow?”
“Probably the usual time,” I said, opening up the box of gummy bears and popping a few in my mouth.
“Okay. Dad’s on call, but I’ll let him know when I get to the hospital.”
“Sounds good. Hope it’s an uneventful night in the ER.”
“Me too,” she said. “Well, you two have fun. Pizza should be here in thirty minutes. Money is on the table.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Don’t stay up too late.”
“We won’t. Bye.” When she closed the door I turned to Oliver. “So, what movie are you torturing me with this weekend?”
Not only was his taste in candy questionable but so was his taste in movies. Next to superhero movies, horror was his favorite genre, but not classic horror—you know the stuff that was actually terrifying because it messed with your head. No, he was all about the blood and guts and shock value.
“I was good. Picked a comedy just like you asked. No risk of nightmares tonight,” he teased.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m going to change real quick. Be right back.”
I darted up the stairs and took off my work clothes. I hopped in the shower because while I didn’t want to keep Oliver waiting long, I also didn’t want to smell like The Green Pepper. I quickly washed off the smell of the bistro and put on my comfiest sweatpants.
“Sorry that took so long,” I apologized when I made my way back downstairs fifteen minutes later.
“It’s cool. I like you better when you don’t stink anyway,” Oliver teased. I picked up the nearest throw pillow and threw it at him.
“C’mon,” he said, gesturing for me to join him on the couch.
I fell asleep before the movie ended, which was pretty normal and something that Oliver gave me crap about every weekend. I woke up as he was covering me up with a blanket.
“S’over?” I mumbled, not quite awake enough to make coherent sentences.
“Yep,” he answered.
“Happy ending?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“Good.” I pulled the blanket up to my chin.
“Good night, Cami.”
“G’night.” I yawned as I snuggled deeper into the cushions, allowing myself to succumb to sleep once again. I didn’t hear him leave, but I felt something warm and soft brush across my forehead right before I fell back asleep.