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For chrissakes, Linnie, the man practically invented the man bun!
She looked up at the ductwork on the exposed ceiling and tapped her pen on the bar as she pondered. Chloe couldn’t figure Jesse out any more than she could figure out who Linnea’s fuckboy might be. She found that her gaze wandered to the object of her unrequited desire. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. They talked and texted and flirted an awful lot. She could tell when a guy was interested, and she was almost certain he was interested, but every time she thought he was going to finally make a move…nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
Maybe he really was gay. There were rumors, not that she believed them. She’d never seen him with anyone, male or female, in the entire three years she’d known him. Besides, gay men didn’t flirt with women like he did, did they? He was good at it too. The sexy banter… She had a feeling he was a really dirty boy, and dammit, she wanted to know for sure. She wanted him. She hadn’t wanted anyone like that in a long time.
Chloe grabbed the tray of martinis and sauntered off to serve them to a couple that had been parked at a booth in her section for more than two hours now. They were her only party left in the restaurant. She wished they’d hurry up and finish so she could take her afternoon break at the bar before the happy hour and dinner crowds trickled in. She looked forward to those moments with Jesse, Linn, and the Byrne brothers, Kyan and Dillon.
It seemed to take forever, but Linnea was finally at her side, helping her clear the table. Chloe looked over at the bar to see the three cousins staring at them—more like eye-fucking them. She nodded at her friend and Linnea followed her over there.
Without even having to ask, Jesse poured her a Diet Coke, placed it in front of her, and then spoke aloud for everyone to hear, “So, Chloe, I just have to ask, can you tell all of us what a fuckboy is and why exactly you’re looking for one?”
He heard us? Oh shit!
Kyan and Dillon looked at Chloe with rapt attention. Linnea hid her face in her hand. Chloe flipped her long nutmeg waves over her shoulder, took a sip of her drink, and answered with a saucy smile, “Now, Jesse, I’m sure you’re quite familiar with the term, but I’ll humor you anyway.”
She sat back on the bar stool, glanced over at Kyan and Dillon, then cleared her throat before she continued. Her eyes bored into his baby-blues.
“A fuckboy is a guy who flirts with you and acts like he’s really into you, yeah?” She stressed the word for his benefit. “But all he really wants is to fuck you.” And she nodded once for good measure.
Kyan and Dillon exchanged a knowing smirk, but Jesse’s neutral expression never wavered. From behind her hand Linnea spoke under her breath, “Sounds like high school.”
Chloe couldn’t agree more. This hot-and-cold thing with Jesse reminded her of high school more and more every day. She was twenty-one, he was twenty-eight, well past the age of teenage games. “Yes, exactly!”
Jesse leaned over the bar right in front of her, so that only inches separated them. “Why, then, are you looking for one?”
She wanted to giggle. Worried, Jesse?
Chloe merely smiled. “I’m not looking for me. It’s for Linnea.”
Poor Linnea sputtered into a napkin, choking on her soda, and Chloe patted her on the back in an attempt to calm her. She hadn’t planned on telling them the story of the lust letter, but all three guys stood there aghast, mouths hanging open at the thought of sweet, virginal Linnea looking for a fuckboy. Chloe had no other choice but to explain.
“Last week someone left a note under Linnie’s doormat. The wicked sexy kind.”
Dillon spoke as he stood from his seat. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Chloe kept patting Linnea between her shoulder blades. “Fuckboy said he was going to make Linnea lust him. Who says that?”
Dillon was coming around the bar now to stand on the other side of Linnea. “So you see, we’re trying to figure out who fuckboy is!” Chloe punctuated.
Jesse slightly turned his face toward a mortified Linnea, who was dabbing at her cheeks with the napkin, to ask if she was okay. Chloe really hadn’t meant to embarrass her friend, not that Linnea had any reason to be embarrassed, but she knew how much Linnea hated being the center of attention—and she was getting plenty of it now! Kyan held Linnea’s hand, making those fuck-me eyes at her like he always did when he thought no one was looking. Dillon was rubbing her lower back in slow circles.
Whaaa?
How Linnea was so blind to Kyan’s attraction to her, she’d never understood. And now Dillon too. His cell went off and that was the end of that. Chloe’s precious break time with Jesse was over.
Dinner was slammed so Chloe didn’t have much of a chance to speak with him after that. She was beyond tired and so relieved when the shift was over. She gave Jesse a brief wave as she left the restaurant with Linnea to head home to her little apartment four blocks away.
After Chloe split off from Linnea to go in the opposite direction at the corner in front of the Red Door, a private members-only club, she crossed First Avenue and stopped at a food cart set up on the sidewalk to get an iced latte to enjoy on the walk home like she usually did. She thought about Jesse as she walked. He’d probably start texting her as soon as Charley’s closed like he always did and for the first time she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to.
Chloe climbed the stairs to her third-floor apartment, unlocked the door, and stripped off her work clothes piece by piece, tossing them to leave a trail on the floor, as she headed toward the bathroom. She turned on the shower, stepped beneath the spray of water, and tipped her head back, wetting the strands that reached almost to her waist. Steam and the scent of tropical coconut filled her tiny bathroom as she scrubbed the restaurant grime off her lithe form.
Clean and rejuvenated, she slipped into a silk cami and pajama pants, grabbed her old pink satin blanket from the chair in her bedroom, and settled onto her pink velvet sofa in the living room to read. And just like clockwork a text notification sounded on her phone.
Jesse: Hey, babe!
Babe, really?
He’d have to do better than that. He called everyone ‘babe.’ She was not his babe. She was not his anything. Until she was his something, she told herself to just ignore him, but knew she wouldn’t.
