34. Manage Myself
34
Manage Myself
I swung my legs under the table, mostly so I could tease Harvey with some footsie and distract myself from this proposed celebration. “How did you know you wanted to manage The Bern?” I asked.
He eased back in the booth. “I didn’t. I thought I’d be a musician or a tattoo artist.”
I smiled at the mental image of him curled over an instrument or bossing someone around at an ink station. “Why weren’t you?”
Rolling his sleeves up, Harvey flexed his arms. “I wasn’t confident enough in my designs to inflict pain and permanence on anybody but me. I also didn’t love music enough to keep practicing.”
I tickled the pretty dark clouds inked on his forearm. “But you love coffee?”
He traced his jaw. “Not exactly. I picked up the job because of the decent hourly and benefits. I don’t know why I stayed. I got into a rhythm, then I got good at it. After a while, I realized I could either chase some graphic design job or commission-based crap where people sapped away everything I love about art, or I could do something that’s more like a chore and get paid for it. Plus, free drinks.”
I nodded. “You developed a different set of skills, and incentive programs can be wonderful things.”
He quirked a brow. "Do you have one with Santa?"
I leaned forward and wagged my eyebrows. “It’s free candy canes for me.”
Laughing, he stretched his legs until they slotted against mine under the table. “Speaking of sweets, I think you’ll have to eat some of this cake with me. There’s no way I can tackle the whole thing," he said, glancing at the incoming server.
“Are you sure?”
He’d devoured his entree with no signs of slowing.
He played with his piercing and glanced away. “Yeah, I love sharing.”
“You’re lying.” I grinned and nudged his shins. It was sweet, but unnecessary. "Tonight is for you. Have your cake, and eat it too."
“No, really.” He sat up properly, lightly grasped my forearms, and looked deep into my eyes. His dark, hot chocolate gaze warmed my insides. “Shelby, will you please share the cake with me? That would make me happy.”
My gaze fell to his lips. How was a hungry girl supposed to reject such sincerity? “Okay.”
He scooted farther into the booth. “Come sit by me.”
“Yes, sir.” Rubbing my cheek on my shoulder, I slid in beside him and stuffed my fingers under my thighs.
He leaned closer, the aroma of cinnamon filling my lungs. “Why are you acting all shy?” he asked.
I covered my burning cheeks with my hands. “I don’t know. It’s embarrassing.” Not budgeting for two slices of cake, no future plan, getting moved to tears over sweets and sincerity. Plus, it was hard being snuggled up on one side of the booth like we were in love without being able to say that thing because it’s too early.
He wrapped his arm around me. “What’s embarrassing? Were you planning to feed me?”
“No.” I giggled and nudged him.
He raised his brows. “Do you want me to feed you?”
“No. Although, at home, maybe little things…” I hid my face against his chest. No fantasizing at the dinner table, Shelby. I tightened my fist on his sweater and nuzzled the softness. “This feels nice.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “I agree.”
I looked up, my heart as strong and steady as any marching drummer boy. “I am feeling lots of things.”
He arched his brow. “Good things?”
I nodded, hugging him tightly.
“Complicated things?”
I nodded again. How did he know me so well already?
He stroked my hair. “You don’t have to explain if you’re not ready. But if you want to, you know where to find me.”
Could I say it? I love…
The server placed a huge slice of cake with tons of toppings in front of us.
“Cake," I blurted out.
"Good job," the server said sarcastically, but not mean, as he left.
Oh, goodness. I was trying to say something better, something sweet. I sunk into Harvey's side, hoping our snuggles would replenish my bravery.
Harvey chuckled and eased the plate towards me. “Go ahead. Make sure it’s not poisonous.”
He was giving me the first bite? I slid the spoon through the first layer and smiled. “Aw, it's nice dating someone with the spirit of generosity."
“Are you saying I’m like Santa? I thought I was grinch-y.” He frowned.
Sucking my spoon clean, I hummed and gently rocked side to side to dance with the chocolate on my tongue. “You’re complex. And amazing.”
He touched his lip ring and grinned, his cheeks flush. “Shelby, how am I supposed to keep my cool guy fa?ade when you do these things?”
“Do what?” I crossed my ankles and batted my eyelashes.
“Be cute. Now, gimme that cake.” He stole my spoon, even though he had his own, and dug in, elbowing me out of the way.
"Hey." I giggled, jostling him for space in the booth.
By the time we finished the cake, we settled down. However, the second server swung by, I bolted upright to give him my credit card first.
“You don’t need to treat me,” Harvey said, reaching for his wallet.
“I want to. It’s a big accomplishment." I pushed my card into the server's booklet and sent him off.
"Please, please, no fighting," the server said. "One of you can save that generosity for the tip. I'll be right back." He winked.
"I guess that's fine." Harvey yawned behind his palm. Poor guy had been on his feet for eleven hours or so.
“Too much excitement for one day, huh?” I snuggled into his side.
He patted his stomach. “Too much sugar.”
“That’s impossible.” I covered my high-pitched yawn with the back of my hand. "Sugar crashes can't happen with celebrations."
He wrapped both his arms around me and kissed my head. “Maybe you’re right.”
I hummed and rested my cheek against his steady heartbeat.
We could do this the rest of our lives. Or at least for the next few weeks, assuming we could afford it.
Eventually, we walked hand-in-hand to my car. The parking lot was more slush than fluffy blankets of snow. I didn’t want to fall in cold, gray sludge, so I took it slow. “Did you want to hang out in the car or go back to your place for the continued celebration?”
Harvey rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’m kind of tired.”
Of course he was. I mustered up a bright smile. “I get it. You have had a long day.”
He gripped my hand before it could slip away. “I’d still like you to stay.” He took a sharp breath. “I mean, with me, at my place. Tonight. Is that okay?”
“I…I’ll have to check.” It sounded silly, but I’d rather my mom didn’t put out a search warrant or bang down his door in search of me.
“Go ahead. I’ll start thawing the windshield.” He got into the car, offering me some privacy.
I sucked in some cold air and dialed my mother. This was not something I should text.
She answered on the second ring. “Hello, Shelby.”
“Hi, Mom. I was just wondering, Harvey and I are both pretty sleepy after a big meal, would it be okay if we crashed at his place tonight?”
“No, that’s not a good idea.” That answer didn’t surprise me.
“But Mom–”
“You asked me.”
I sighed and paced next to the car. “Yes, but I’m also over eighteen. If I want to spend the night with my boyfriend–”
“You’ve only been dating a few weeks. Don’t you want to wait to test your sleeping compatibility? You should be engaged, at least.”
Stunned, I stopped walking. She was already thinking about our wedding? “Harvey and I aren’t rushing into anything. We’re sleepy and want to keep talking. People do this all the time.”
She huffed and turned on some water. “I don’t care what people do. You need to set a good example for your little cousins. Plus, you have work in the morning.”
That last part was true. I only had a few shifts left, and the Nice bonus was dangling over my head with the allure of mistletoe and Harvey. But a night with my boyfriend…
He rubbed his hands together, then smiled and awkwardly gave me a thumbs-up. I grinned and shrugged, not wanting to give him one back in case he took it as, 'yes, I got permission.'
Mom lowered her voice, most likely to avoid anyone overhearing. “Are you doing this because you’re upset with me? Because you shouldn’t jeopardize your future over inviting a boy to bake cookies.”
I flapped my arm in frustration. “It was more than that, Mom. This was genuinely about wanting to spend the night with Harvey. I asked because I respect you. I just wish you would respect me and what I do. You don’t even respect my room. Part of me is scared I’ll come home and my flowers will be missing.”
She took a beat. “They’re still here.” Did she have to check?
She didn’t address anything else. Then again, she never was the greatest with feelings. My tears and worries were often met with tea and being told not to cry, that it would all get better soon, and oh didn’t I want to spend time with the family, because that would cheer me up.
I sighed. “It would be stressful to have to drive home before my shift, though. Maybe I can rain check with Harvey.”
We’d have other nights, wouldn’t we? I only had a few days left to earn money doing what made me happy. We wouldn’t really get much sleep before I had to go home and get ready for work.
One day, though, maybe we’d be home together.
I placed my palm on the cool window.
One day, soon.