Ten Below ZeroTen Below Zero(16)

I blew out a breath and walked to table ten, walking past Everett’s table on the way. I took the drink orders for table ten, aware of Charlotte’s penetrating gaze on me. My skin itched and my legs begged me to run.

Instead, I turned around and stopped at Everett’s table. “Have you decided on food yet?”

“Pancake stack. Extra bacon,” Everett ordered, leaning back in his seat, watching me. I met his eyes for a moment. They were sad. And suddenly, I felt it too. But it was just a drop. I didn’t embrace it. “Please,” he added, his voice just a little lower. My breath caught.

“Egg white omelet. No cheese. Vegetables on the side. And I don’t want the potatoes it comes with. Can I have fruit instead?” Charlotte’s voice forced me from looking at Everett. I blinked at her. “Fruit?” I asked dumbly.

Charlotte looked at me with eyes narrowed. “Yes, fruit. Do you have fruit?” She spoke slowly, as if I was missing the brain cells required to understand her.

I shook my head, though my thoughts were still clouded with Everett. “Uh, yes. I’ll go put that order in,” I said, turning around.

“Parker,” Everett’s voice stopped me. I turned around again and lifted my eyes to his. “Can I have another coffee please?”

I nodded and spun around, walking back to the kitchen. I grabbed the coffee pot and hesitated only a moment before grabbing a bowl with single serve creamers and headed back to the table.

I set the creamer on the table and poured more coffee, keeping my eyes trained on the cup and not on Everett. But it was futile. I watched as one of his hands reached for the bowl of creamer, plucking two containers from right under my hand. As I topped off his coffee, his hand brushed mine.

My eyes quickly sought his and he stared at me again, as if willing me to read his mind. The thought was equally exciting and terrifying. I walked stiffly away from the table and filled the drink orders for my other table.

When I was back in the kitchen, I put in the order for table ten and waited, my eyes glancing back at my tables, lingering on Everett’s. I couldn’t help it. I felt compelled to watch him. He saw me and picked up his phone, his fingers moving across the keyboard. He looked back at me again and set his phone down.

A moment later, my pocket buzzed. Doris had a strict no-cellphones policy, but everyone checked theirs anyway. With half the employees being college students, it was only natural that they would steal a minute to check our phones.

I rarely checked mine, mostly because I had no need to. I had no social media accounts to maintain and just five contacts in my phone. No one ever needed to talk to me; if I heard from someone it was for a favor – like Jasmine.

I looked around for Doris’s beady eyes before stealing away to the bathroom. Once I checked that the stalls were empty, I pulled out my phone.

Everett: I liked it better when you poured the cream for me.

I clenched my jaw and debated replying. I hadn’t heard from him since I’d dropped him off at his home. But I didn’t want to lose control of myself, and I knew talking to Everett was a slippery slope to my undoing. So I ignored the message, tucking the phone into my pocket, and returned to the kitchen.

I delivered Everett and Charlotte’s breakfast without any incident and poured Everett more coffee. By the time they asked for the check, I had poured him a fourth coffee and he was out of creamer containers. I looked at the empty bowl and debated grabbing more, but I shut the thought down and walked back into the kitchen.

Everett looked at his coffee and at the empty bowl before looking at me. It was like we were both speaking the same silent language. He smiled, a real smile, and picked up his phone again. And my pocket buzzed.

I stole away to the bathroom once more, pulling out the phone.

Everett: You know I take creamer with my coffee and you deliberately refused to bring me any.

Guilt crept in and I was suddenly annoyed – with myself. A change of pace. That changed when I received the next text.

Everett: That’s rude, you know.

I bit down on my lip, feeling it tremble, as if tempted to smile. And then the door to the bathroom opened.

Charlotte stood before me and seemed unfazed by my presence in the bathroom. That’s how I knew she was expecting to find me. Her long blonde hair was thick, curled slightly at the ends. Her face was hard, her eyes narrow.

“How do you know Everett?”

She didn’t waste any time. I turned to the sink and started washing my hands, rolling up my sleeves, exposing the scar. I looked at the scar a moment before answering. “I don’t.” It wasn’t a lie.

I looked up in the mirror; saw her reflection staring at my back. “You do,” she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. It emphasized her large chest. As if I needed further proof of her desirability.

I rinsed the soap from my hands and shook them, letting water splatter across the sink. I pulled down a couple paper towels and dried my hands before wiping up the splatters. I could taste her impatience in the air. It was insufferable.

I threw away the paper towels and looked at her pointedly. “No, I don’t.” And then I walked out of the bathroom, back to the kitchen. I stayed hidden this time, not peeking around the corner at Everett while we played our staring contest game. When I figured he had paid for the check at the cashier by the exit, I peeked around. He was indeed gone, with Charlotte. That knowledge sank in my stomach, holding me still. It was lead. And I didn’t want it.