The interview is short and to the point, and apparently, I give the right answers because they hire me on the spot. They show me what they expect, and I spend my shift cleaning paint, restocking art supplies, ringing customers up, and setting up tables for each new paint enthusiast who comes through the door.
I’m exhausted but happy as I make it home and trudge through the front door, stopping short as I see Ben sitting on the couch, remote in one hand and a water in the other.
“Hey,” he says, glancing up with a smile.
My heart stops.
Lady. Killer.
“Hi,” I say back brightly, dropping my bag on the coffee table and walking around it to sit on the other end of the couch. I toe my shoes off and prop my feet up on the table, sighing as I lay my head back and close my eyes.
“Rough night?”
His deep voice makes my ears perk up, and I peek an eye open.
“Just a long day … and night.” I grin and close my eye.
His chuckle warms me, and I hear him lean forward to set something down.
“First day at work, right?”
I raise my head and open my eyes, looking at him as he stares back at me. I feel like something is off, a weird tension to the air but I continue talking, “Yep, it was good. After the interview went well, they started training me, but it’s really not that hard. The computer checkout system was the most confusing thing, but I figured it out.”
He nods but doesn’t say anything else.
The mood in the room has gotten weird, so I fill the silence with nervous chatter. “I saw some really cute pieces tonight. One girl did a little woodland theme with foxes and deer and even a bear. She was really talented. Someone even painted a piece that looked like a ceramic Christmas tree, which I thought was odd because it’s the first day of September now, but to each their own, I guess.” I shrug. “Anyway, what have you done today?” I expectantly look at him and notice a cute grin on his face.
“Not much other than watch TV,” he says.
I stifle a laugh. “You like reality TV?”
“Nah, not really. But there’s not a lot on other than this and game shows or cooking shows during the day.”
“You should have watched a cooking show. It would have been supremely better than trashy reality TV—other than medical shows, and you can’t call those trashy because I love them. You might have even learned something about cooking.”
“Something wrong with my cooking?”
“Well, I’ve never tasted your food.”
“Looks like I need to prove myself.”
“What would you cook for me?” I lay my head back on the couch and clasp my hands across my stomach.
“Bucatini with marinara and ricotta.”
“Dang, that was quick. Already been thinking about it?”
“Nah, it’s comfort food. My mom used to make it for us every Sunday.” He mimics my pose by putting his feet up on the table in front of us and laying his head back, crossing his arms over his stomach, which I know is rock hard and I now have an intense urge to run my tongue down it.
“It sounds delicious,” I murmur, my body tensing as I think about telling him that I want to pursue us.
You only live once, right?
“So, I’ve got a date on Friday night,” he says.
My entire body freezes, heart sinking.
What? You have a what on Friday night?
I think I must have misheard him. I know he hasn’t ever indicated that we’re anything more than friends, but I mean, sometimes, I catch him staring at me a beat longer than necessary. And I did meet his parents.
Oh God. Maybe that means I’m not that important to him if it wasn’t a big deal for me to meet his parents.
I resist the urge to gape at him, and I force myself to remain calm, cool, and collected.
“That’s nice,” I say.
That’s nice? That’s nice?!
“Who’s your date?”
“One of Craig’s family, maybe a cousin or something,” he says with a shrug.
His intense gaze is pinned on me, and I swear he can see into my soul. I build up a wall, and I don’t let the blood run out onto the floor from my broken and bleeding heart.
“Well, I hope you two have fun,” I say, sitting up a little and reaching down to grab my shoes. I stand and stretch, faking a yawn, and then without looking at him, I head to get my purse.
I don’t want to chance him seeing the tears gathering in my eyes. I’ve been lying to myself, telling my heart that a guy like him would ever be interested in a girl like me. He probably sees me as just Mason’s cousin, not a woman.
“Hey, Pep?” he asks from behind me, still on the couch.
I half-turn my face to him. “Yeah?” By some miracle, my voice doesn’t break.
“Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” I can’t take having to uncover a part of myself with a truth right now.
“I dare you to tell me a truth,” Ben says, and I pause.
“I don’t know what you mean, Ben.” I covertly wipe a finger under my bottom eyelashes and walk to my room, letting the tears fall once the door clicks shut.
Ben
I stare after Pepper as she walks down the hallway. I have whiplash now. One second, we were relaxing on the couch, and the next, she’s gone.
I’m not sure how to interpret her reaction. I’d thought it would be more clear-cut than what it was, and now, I’m beginning to think that maybe I shouldn’t go on the date after all. But I already called Caroline and asked her out, so I can’t back out on her; that’s not fair.
I wipe a hand down my face and run through the last five minutes. Me blurting out that I had a date, Pepper not reacting,
