I throw on some workout clothes, get my earbuds, queue up an upbeat music playlist and go outside. If my family won’t stop being annoying, I’ll just leave for a bit. I’m not much of a jogger, so I take a long meandering walk through the neighborhood, trying to enjoy being outside and soaking in all the sunshine and autumn air.
I am so tired. So, incredibly tired. Tired of my parents being gone, tired of my sisters being brats, tired of trying to win this competition. As embarrassing as it is to admit this to myself, I’m also tired of crushing on Mark. I’ve done a good job of avoiding him lately because just being in his presence makes my heart all warm and my knees all wobbly. I hate it. He’s just some hot rich kid who already has a nice car. He would never be interested in me, despite what he said that day in the storage closet. That was just him trying to mess with my head. And it totally worked.
I walk for an hour and I’m still not tired, so I keep walking. I’m trying so hard not to think about Mark, but just as this competition is always on my mind, so is the insufferably annoying and impossibly cute guy in third place.
Ugh.
I reach the end of a neighborhood and stand on the sidewalk that faces an intersection that leads into town. I could keep walking, just wander around aimlessly, but I’m also pretty hungry. I didn’t bring any money, not that I have any, and the only thing across this road are restaurants and fast food places that probably smell really good. I can’t walk past those. I’ll just go home and make a sandwich. I’m tired of PBJ as well. We’ve had them for lunch all week since it’s the only thing we had money in the budget for after my sister spent it all at the mall.
I turn around and notice a familiar silver car sitting at the stop sign. The window rolls down and Mark freaking Caputo smiles up at me. “What are the odds?” he says.
“This town isn’t that big,” I say. “So I guess the odds are pretty good that we’d run into each other.”
I start walking. The longer I stand here and see him, the faster my stupid heart beats. “Wait,” he calls out. And just like that, my feet stop. Stupid feet.
“You hungry?”
Starving, I think. But I just shrug.
“I was just headed to Caputo’s. You wanna come? The benefit of being the boss’ son means we get all the free food we want.”
Italian food sounds amazing, but I can’t just say yes. Can I?
I guess I take too long to say anything because Mark leans his head out the window and curls out his bottom lip. “Pleeease?”
Oh, my heart. It’s beating so fast. That puppy face he’s making could melt a glacier. I fold my arms over my chest. “Why would you want to eat lunch with me? I’m not exactly nice to you.”
He smirks. “Maybe I like the attention.”
“It’s negative attention,” I say.
His smirk gets a little bit sexier. “Any attention is good attention from you.”
I roll my eyes and start walking again, if only to catch my breath because holy crap that was hot.
He puts the car in reverse and backs up a bit. “Garlic bread… pasta…hanging out with me…”
“Two of those things sound good,” I muse.
He grins. “They are. And the pasta is pretty good too.”
He is an Olympic level flirt. And I’m totally falling victim to it. I stop walking.
“I probably smell bad. I’ve been working out.”
He shrugs. “We’ll sit outside.”
I take a deep breath. I am all out of reasons to say no. And my stomach is growling.
I climb into his car.
It’s a short drive to his family’s restaurant. I’ve been here a few times, but not lately because we haven’t had the money. It’s an upscale Italian place for sure.
Mark parks in the back of the restaurant and we go inside through the employee entrance. I’m expecting to see a kitchen, but it’s actually a hallway with a few offices back here. Since it’s the lunch rush, the place is packed and servers bustle around. We go to the takeout window and Mark tells me to order anything I want. I get pasta alfredo and he orders the chicken parmesan with extra garlic bread.
“So what have you been up to this weekend?” Mark asks as we find a table in the far back corner of the patio seating area.
I shrug. “I took today off.”
“Oh? Where do you work?”
I snort out a laugh. “I don’t work. I wish I could, but I don’t have a car.”
“So what did you take the day off from?” he asks, reaching for one of the breadsticks in the middle of the table.
I unfold the cloth napkin in front of me and put it in my lap. “I don’t know. Everything. Volunteering. Working hard to suck up to everyone. That kinda thing.”
“Ah,” he says with a nod. “All this kudo-getting is exhausting for sure.”
“Yep,” I say, exhaling. “And it doesn’t look like I’ll win anyway, so I wish I could just stop trying.”
He rests his chin in his palm and watches me. A few seconds pass and I’m feeling a teensy bit awkward. I don’t even look cute right now. I have no makeup on and a frizzy ponytail. I have to say something or this silence might stretch on forever.
“So what did you do today?” I ask, reaching for a breadstick. I was absolutely starving a few minutes ago, but now that we have food in front of us, my stomach just feels nervous.
“I did…” He glances at his phone, which lies face down
