6. Attention #2
The last time I saw Reed, everything about his aesthetic was black, from his clothes to his fingernails to his hair.
Not much has changed, save for the last. His natural jet-black locks have been bleached, and the left side of his head is now closely shaved to his scalp.
Most employers would frown upon the look in a town like this, but Giorgia has never cared about anything outside of service and punctuality.
“Yeah, you’re a real Buddy Hackett,” Nico jabs.
We all laugh, because Reed is anything but .
Tattoos cover his biceps, and though he’s built like a beanstalk—all legs and lean limbs—there’s still discernible muscle definition.
The kind of build you’d associate with a track star or swimmer.
With his style, however, he looks more like he wandered off a music video set for a rock band.
“You’re never gonna guess who we’ve got here,” says Nico, slinging an arm around me.
Reed’s pierced eyebrow arches as he looks at his co-worker like he’s on crack or something. “It’s Alex.”
He says this without hesitation, barely sparing me a glance on his way over to his designated tables.
I always knew I liked him.
Save for “Birdie,” everyone calls me “Ali” (or “Alexandria” when I’m in big trouble). Reed, however, has always called me Alex, knowing how I feel about my name, and I adore him for it.
He sweeps me up into a hug of his own when he returns, and I can’t help but squeal as Reed lifts me off the ground, adding in a spin for good measure. “How’ve you been, dolcezza? Got any more ink to show me?”
I grin but offer no more than a coy “Perhaps.”
Perusing the artwork displayed on his own skin, I can clearly see he’s added more.
With Reed’s shirt collar in the way, I can only catch a glimpse of thorns and what looks like a rose petal peeking out, just shy of going up his neck. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he whispers with a wink, setting me back on my feet.
“Deal.” I motion between Maggie and me. “Would you guys happen to have any summer positions available?”
Castelli’s had stopped posting job openings online, since it typically brought high school and college students to the business.
The server positions required afternoons and weekends, which either didn’t work with extracurriculars or got in the way of partying during the school year.
And summers somehow only made the flakiness worse.
Giorgia hired nine different applicants for the same position over the course of a year, all of whom quit in under a month.
Nico gives Maggie a good once-over, as if he can assess her work ethic by her posture alone. “Do you have any experience waitressing?”
“Uh…no,” she admits.
“Have you ever worked in the restaurant business at all?”
“…No.”
“You know how to work a cash register?”
She can’t help but wince. “No.”
Nico huffs, like he actually might be disgruntled. “Well, that’s not particularly promising. So, I guess…you’re hired.”
“Seriously?”
“Hell, you know just about as much as these two did when they started here,” he laughs, nodding to Reed and me. “Come in tomorrow at ten. We’ll get you up to speed.”
For the first time since arriving here, I actually feel the weight lift ever so slightly off my chest, and I want nothing more than to hold onto this feeling for as long as I can.
How do I go about doing that?
By a good, old-fashioned endorphin rush.
I’m excited.
Maggie? Not so much.
“Please don’t make me.” She pouts and drags her feet all the way down the path to the hiking trail like a whiny five-year-old.
I sigh. “Did you forget the part where I already said you didn’t have to?”
“And leave you out in the middle of the woods, all alone?” She eyes me in that special kind of way that lets me know I’m a very special kind of stupid. “You have watched a horror movie before, right?”
This at least makes me laugh, because we’re about the farthest thing from alone.
I was only able to convince Maggie to come with me to the jogging path because she hoped to meet a hot, shirtless guy.
Instead, there are about twenty or so members of a geriatric hiking club, along with several birdwatching groups.
“What the frack? Where are all the fitness fanatics?” Maggie groans. “I wanna see Channing Tatum or Chris Hemsworth, not my Great Uncle Fred.”
I give her a light slap on the arm.
The girl doesn’t mean to say things so loud, but damn, does her voice carry.
We’ve been on the path for barely twenty minutes when Maggie jogs to a halt, begging me for a break.
“You’re seriously that outta shape?”
“No…” She fidgets, trying and failing to find comfort as she adjusts the underwire of her pushup bra. “My boobs are killing me.”
“That’s why I told you to wear a sports bra.”
“And rock the uni-boob? No thank you.”
Now I’m the one groaning, because there’s no way in hell I’m returning to the house without working off as much of my frustration as possible. “Can I get in one more mile?”
“Fine, but if the girls’ bouncing winds up knocking me out or giving me a black eye, I’m blaming you,” she says, pointing at her chest.
“Deal.”
I pick up the pace again, but just as I round the next bend, a force barrels into me from the connecting trail!
Just like that, I’m off my feet and tumbling, tumbling, tumbling into what I thankfully find to be nothing more than grass. The last thing I need right now is a case of poison ivy.
And I’m not alone.
Maggie’s warning from earlier flashes through my head as someone crashes on top of my body, and for about three seconds, I’m entertaining the horrific possibility that my offender is some kind of serial killer or rapist…until I hear, “I am so sorry!”
That voice…
That accent!
I brush the disheveled strands of hair from my face, looking up to find familiar hazel eyes and wavy brown locks. “Wes?”
My attacker takes a better look at me, and his eyes light up as his endearing boyish grin stretches into an absolutely adorable smile. “Ali?”
I finally release the air from my lungs I’d been holding, just in case I needed to scream bloody murder. “What’re you doing here? I thought you said you were staying up in New York for the summer.”
“I was going to,” he laughs, “but the property was just inspected, and they found black mold. My parents bought a cabin right off Mansfield Lake with the intention of turning it into a timeshare, though they haven’t gotten around to it.
So, it seems my brother and I are crashing there for the foreseeable future. ”
I want to laugh too, because that so-called “cabin” is very likely a mansion. Sure, it may have the traditional log paneling, but it’s also four thousand square feet, minimum. All the properties surrounding Mansfield Lake are prime real-estate with views to kill for and price tags to prove it.
“Ahem.” Someone clears their throat behind us, and we both look up to find Maggie standing at the edge of the trail, looking about as confused as expected.
That tends to happen when you stumble upon your best friend in the middle of the woods, on the ground, with a guy lying on top of her.
“Are you two kids having fun, or should I blow my rape whistle?”
She’s kidding, mostly.
All the girls on campus were given bracelets with a small whistle attached, and she’s currently wearing one on her wrist, jangling it for emphasis. Given that I’m smiling (probably like an idiot), I highly doubt she’ll blow it.
It’s only now that Wes realizes how this must look, because he scrambles to his feet, offering a hand with an apology.
Even after we’ve trudged our way back to the path, he keeps holding it, and Maggie’s eyes home in on the gesture, missing nothing. “Should I ask?”
I give a concise introduction, knowing this will quickly become an interrogation if I let it continue.
Wes also seems to understand this, gratefully accepting the out I provide him when Maggie gets to her seventh question in less than two minutes.
“You better get going if you want to make it to dinner. Tell your brother I say hi.”
In truth, I haven’t met his brother, and Wes knows this as well, making his smile only grow further. “Will do. Hopefully, we’ll be able to run into each other again.”
His hazel eyes sparkle in the forest greenery surrounding us, and I can feel my insides melting as he laughs at the faux pas.
“Not literally ‘run into’…” He scrubs a hand down his face, and watching him stumble over his words is absolutely adorable.
It takes him three attempts, all of which still sound just as bad, before I finally assure him I’d like to see him again and give Wes a quick hug.
We both wave and say our goodbyes before he heads off jogging down the way Maggie and I came. I don’t miss the glance he steals over his shoulder as his figure shrinks in the distance.
“Okay, who the hell was that, and where can I get one? Or better yet, how come you never mentioned him before?” Maggie demands.
“His name’s Wes Holbrooke,” I clarify. “We shared Econ and Psych together second semester.”
“And he’s British? For real? ”
“Yeah, he and his family moved to the states when he was twelve. His dad owns some kind of investment firm or something.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Maggie grabs my arm and swings me around to look directly at her. “ Holbrooke? As in Wessington & Holbrooke, Holbrooke ?”
I shrug. “Maybe. I didn’t ask. Why?”
“ Why? My cousin’s been trying to get into that place for three years. It’s kind of a big deal. You know how much his family’s gotta be worth?”
“Don’t really care.”
“Well, he’s a total hottie, in a bookish sort of way. And did you see those workout pants he was wearing? That boy’s carrying a biiiig torch, in more ways than one,” she teases. “Is that worth your attention?”
I can’t help but smile.
“Bow chicka wow-wow!”
“Shut up,” I laugh, giving her a shove.
Still, Maggie practically bounces in place, grinning like a fool and apparently no longer concerned that her boobs might knock her out. “And you thought this summer was gonna suck.”
For the next forty minutes, I’m actually convinced things might not be so bad…until I arrive home.