Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Open late, we serve your typical dinner crowd, a cute brunch, and drunk college students on their way home from the clubs and the bars after closing time. Fortunately, I don’t have many of those shifts because I’ve been working here for three years, earning me the right to work primarily day shifts.
Lucky me.
And lucky me, I get to work with one of my best friends, Winnie.
She’s already in her apron when I take mine off the hook, snacking on a plate of French fries, our pre-shift ritual.
I steal one before tying the white smock around my waist. Wrap the cord around once, tie it in a bow. Order tablet in one pocket, straws in the other, French fry on my tongue.
“Damn, that’s hot.”
“Pfft,” Winnie scoffs. “That’s because I’m in the room.”
She tells that joke all the time, but I laugh anyway. Its predictability feels good most days.
“Diego canceled our date tomorrow.”
Her brows go up as she dips a fry in mayo, then ketchup. “No shit? Why?”
I shrug. “He didn’t say.”
“He didn’t say?” Her mouth is twisted into a displeased frown. “That’s annoying.”
“It doesn’t mean anything. He just can’t go out.”
Winnie chews. “Yeah, but you were looking forward to it.”
I was. “Seriously, though, Win…am I wasting my time with this guy, or am I wasting his?”
“Why are we having this conversation again?” Winnie pops another fry in her mouth, unbothered by my disappointment.
“Because…I keep waiting for something to happen and it doesn’t. And now he’s canceling on me.”
She stands, wiping her hands on the apron around her waist. “And I keep asking you—why are you waiting for something to happen when you could be making it happen yourself? This isn’t 1950. We are not our grandmothers. You want to bang the dude, bang the dude.”
Easy for her to say.
Winnie is outgoing and loud and gets attention everywhere we go without putting in any effort. And when she does put in the effort, that attention increases tenfold.
She’s also dating a guy everyone at the fraternity house calls Rookie, so what does that tell you?
She’s way more fun than I am.
My best friend is full of charm and has that je ne sais quoi, as they say in France.
Not that I speak French, but I do have a T-shirt with that saying on it—I should probably give it to Winnie because she has it and I do not.
Winnie has always been more outgoing than I am, loves parties and socializing, loves makeup and glam, loves expensive purses and shoes. She’d rather spend her financial aid on dinner at the mall than on textbooks and classes.
“You’re right, you’re right. If I want to get laid, I should be more assertive…” I fail to mention that Diego and I rarely kiss or make out.
I want more heat.
I want him to feel me up.
I want him to stick his damn tongue down my throat!
You don’t know what you want, Ryann…
Yes, I do!
Then what are you waiting for?
“Hello?”
Winnie is waving her hand in the air to get my attention, holding the plate of fries in my direction as an offering.
I take another one. “Sorry.”
“Just have fun and stop overthinking everything. This isn’t a big deal. You’ve only been dating, what, four months?”
“Two.” I blush. “Overthinking things is ingrained in my blood. Blame my parents.”
“You are not your parents.”
Winnie knows my parents are therapists who love to dole out advice—they doled it out to her the last time she made the trip home with me.
“I know, but they’ve ruined me for dating.”
My parents aren’t just regular therapists—they are marriage and relationship therapists and have always emphasized open doors and honesty. They encourage me to give everyone a chance, and I’ve learned a crap ton by watching them work together over the span of my life.
They also encourage open communication, though when it comes to their own relationship? There isn’t a ton. Or if there is, it isn’t honest communication because otherwise my mother would have told me she and Dad are having issues of their own.
Guess I shouldn’t assume their marriage is perfect just because they help other couples work on their relationships, though they have the tools for success, so I would think they’d use them on each other…
But I digress.
“So you don’t think I’m wasting my time?”
Her shrug is noncommittal and not an answer.
I set the plate down on a nearby table. Time has flown and it’s time to clock in for our shift.
“Two months?” She makes an eh sound. “Maybe, maybe not. Only one way to tell, and that’s to go with what your gut is telling you.”
“My gut is telling me Diego only asked me on a date because he was bored.” I pause. “Maybe it was a dare?”
“A dare? Stop.” She squints at me like the sun is shining in her eyes, face contorted. “You don’t think he asked you out, gee, I don’t know—because you’re cute and pretty and tall?”