Chapter 10
VICTOR
Victor was made to be perfect. His creator had expected straight A’s and for him to be captain of the football team.
In high school, everyone adored Victor—teachers, friends, parents.
Everyone but Lizzy. They’d gone to school together for a while but had never interacted until their science teacher had randomly assigned them as lab partners. She’d been less than thrilled.
“I’m not going to do all the work for you,” she’d said as soon as the teacher had opened the class up to individual discussion.
He’d been shocked by her tone. She wasn’t fawning like others usually were. Or disappointed, as his creator often was. “I wasn’t planning on it. We’re supposed to be partners.”
She scoffed as if it were a ludicrous statement. “I’ve seen the inside of your locker,” she said. Like that explained it all.
“What are you talking about?”
“It looks like a natural disaster in there. You’re good at presenting a put-together exterior. But I know you’re a mess on the inside. You’ve probably been relying on others to do your work or something.”
He was both offended and absolutely fascinated.
He’d been careful to keep that slovenly side of himself a secret.
At home, his room was meticulously clean, or else he’d risk his creator’s wrath.
The locker was the one thing he could control, and he left it a mess on purpose to feel like a human and not a puppet for his creator’s ego.
Not once in his short life had he ever felt more exposed.
It was as if she’d opened his rib cage and torn out his still-beating heart.
Throughout that semester, they’d gone from reluctant co-workers to genuine friends.
She’d drawn out more of him, other than his achievements, like his love of spicy food and his secret passion for Hero Club.
That was when his crush first blossomed.
He felt she saw him in a way no one else had before.
They’d become friends and spent most days together, often at the diner, where he’d met Frank, who taught him about cooking and introduced him to rare hot sauces and told him how to prepare food to make almost anything spicy, just like he liked it.
Then she’d disappeared. Things got worse at home with his creator. His desire for control of his life grew, and he stopped keeping his backpack tidy as a small act of rebellion, then his room, which led to more and more fights. Until the one that ultimately got him kicked out.
Victor wanted. It was what had disappointed his creator most. Victor’s greed.
His hunger for more than was offered to him.
He was never satisfied. There was no better way to explain it.
He wanted Lizzy, for the diner, for Brayden, for himself.
The problem was, they wanted different things.
It didn’t matter if her staying would honor Frank’s memory and help the diner thrive.
It didn’t matter that she helped bridge the gap between him and Brayden after he’d spent nearly a year trying, and it didn’t matter that he was slowly coming undone in his desire for her.
She didn’t want the diner, or him, and he had to respect that choice.
Their shifts overlapped for the first time since they’d kissed.
Three days. And despite his desire to be a gentleman, being in close proximity to her was a dangerous temptation.
Victor was on the flat top, but every time her name rang through on a ticket, his heart sputtered a few beats.
He kept getting distracted from the flat top and turning to look over his shoulder, hoping for a quick glance of her through the window.
Whenever their eyes met, she’d give him a flirtatious grin, and he’d remind himself he wasn’t interested in casual. But his willpower was being tested.
He was so preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn’t pay attention to the bacon or the pancakes on the flat top, and a thick cloud of smoke started rising.
He cursed and scraped the ruined food off the flat top and plopped down fresh pancakes and bacon.
They were backed up as it was, and if he didn’t get it right, he’d never be able to leave the flat top.
Even if the food would have been good enough, it would’ve bothered him.
And he had enough on his mind as it was.
The morning waitress, Trudy, stuck her head through the window.
“Hey, you almost done with table three’s?” she asked.
“Sorry, give me a minute. I burned something,” Victor replied.
“It’s not like you to burn food.” She cocked her head.
“I’m distracted.” It bothered him to admit it. She was right; this was out of character. He strived for perfection. Always. Even when it wasn’t possible.
“Up too late with Lizzy?” She waggled her eyebrows.
“You’ve been talking to Vivianne,” he said.
“No, I have eyes and three kids. Nothing gets past me. Besides, you’ve been watching her through the window all morning.”
He coughed to cover up his surprise. Trudy was often distracted. If it was obvious to her, then his crush was really bad.
Lizzy was talking with table one, and her back was to them. Seeing the animated way she spoke with the customers was entrancing.
“She’s a natural at this. All the regulars keep asking to sit in her section. It’s ruining my tips,” Trudy said, but it lacked any real malice.
Frank’s had needed someone like Lizzy. She was a natural at restaurant service.
They were busier than usual, thanks in part to Vivianne’s clever marketing, but also because Lizzy fit into his life like a missing puzzle piece, one he hadn’t known he wanted or needed until now.
Which was the problem. The more successful the diner was, the more reasons she had to leave.
Lizzy caught him staring through the window, and her eyes glittered with mischief. Was she thinking about the other night as well, or was he a depraved pervert who couldn’t stop thinking about the way her thick thighs had wrapped around his waist?
Trudy cleared her throat. “Table three?”
Victor coughed and plated up the two orders he’d been working on and passed them through the window.
She shook her head like a disapproving mother and went to serve them. Lizzy came out of the swinging doors of the kitchen a moment later and fluttered her lashes at him.
“I’m starving, but my lunch break isn’t for another two hours. Would you make me some fries?”
“Flirting with the cook to get snacks, you’re a seasoned pro.”
“Well, if it works.” She brushed a hand along his arm, and his entire body fizzled.
He wanted to pull away, or grab her and fuck her against the kitchen wall, not caring who watched or that he’d drawn the line at casual sex.
“Table one is looking for you,” Trudy said to Lizzy, with a stern look.
Lizzy sauntered away, shaking her hips as she went. She was taunting him. He adjusted his apron to disguise his hard-on and grabbed the bag of fries and dumped them into the fryer.
While those cooked, he watched Lizzy as she moved through the dining room, checking on her tables, then clearing another.
She bent over, ass up in the air, round and plump like a fresh cherry he wanted to sink his teeth into.
Lizzy looked over her shoulder, caught him watching her again, and gave him another devious smirk.
Victor returned to the fryer, emptied the fries into a basket, and called her over. Lizzy came in and plucked a fry from the basket, took a bite, and moaned.
Now he was certain she was trying to torture him.
“This is sinfully good.” She grabbed a bottle of ketchup, poured a bit over her fries, but got some on her fingers. She licked it off, her tongue darting out to clean her digit. Victor braced himself on the kitchen counter and tried to think unsexy thoughts, but failed.
What had possessed him to believe he could stay just friends with her? This was going to be the most torturous month of his life.
Victor white-knuckled through the rest of his shift until Clyde, the other daytime fry cook, came in for his shift. Victor had escaped temptation another day and headed back home. Lizzy would be working for a few more hours, giving him time to cool off and come to his senses.
When he stepped into the house, after leaving through the diner’s back door, he found Brayden there, holding an armful of ingredients while Igor squawked instructions from atop the kitchen fridge.
A jug of maple syrup teetered dangerously on top of the pile Brayden was holding.
Victor grabbed it from him and set it on the counter, then he noticed the provolone and prosciutto. “Culinary experimentation?”
“I’m trying out different things I used to like, with a sweet component added. I can only taste the sweetness, but I like the texture variances,” Brayden said, motioning to the bag of potato chips on the counter next to an open container of frosting.
Brayden would either make an incredible cook one day, or he’d be jailed for culinary crimes. Victor wasn’t certain which yet, but he was glad to see Brayden was trying things and not simply drinking meal replacement shakes.
“Want some help?” Victor asked.
Brayden answered him with a noncommittal grunt but stepped aside to give Victor room to stand by him at the stove.
Victor assessed the laid-out ingredients, taking in the uncooked bacon among the other meats, and he had an idea.
“Since you like breakfast food, maybe we can try creating a sweet sandwich. Maybe some caramelized onions, candied bacon, and a sweet and tangy dressing.”
Brayden nodded along. “That sounds pretty good.”
They worked together as Victor instructed Brayden on various techniques, including brushing the bacon with brown sugar and cooking it until it was crisp and sweet, then explaining the right proportions of vinegar, Dijon, and sugar for the dressing.
By the time they were finished, they had a towering sandwich on a large baguette, which he’d intended to use for garlic bread but had happily sacrificed to make Brayden’s recipe.
Brayden’s side of the sandwich had tons of extra-sweet dressing, but Victor had opted for tossing a few jalape?os on his half and was reaching for the hot sauce when Lizzy came in from her shift.
“Glad to see you eating.” Lizzy smiled.
“Victor was teaching me how to cook. We made candied bacon.”
“Yum!” she said. “You enjoying cooking?”
“It’s way more fun now that I’ve found stuff I like,” Brayden said. He was beaming in a way Victor hadn’t seen since he’d adopted him.
“That’s great news. Are we still on for the movie tonight?” she asked.
“Yeah!” Brayden devoured his sandwich, and then the three of them retired to the living room and spread out on the couches as the movie played. Victor kept stealing glances at Lizzy. Her eyes were trained on the screen, but she must have felt him staring because she smiled back at him.
They looked like a proper family. If only he could convince her to stay.
She lit up the people around her; she lit him up.
She was a natural with Brayden. With customers.
With him. If only he could be satisfied just watching her burn.
But what if he didn’t have to be? What if he gave in, just enough to maybe convince her to be his for real?