by CC Bridges
“There are like five pizza places between here and Route 37,” she grumbled. “Okay, I’ll meet you over there. I’m parked in Lot 2.”
“Okay, cool.” I might have had a stupid grin on my face. I’d just made a friend. Maybe. It depended on if she actually showed up.
Apparently I didn’t come off as a complete asshole, because about two seconds after I pulled into the lot of Martelli’s, a silver Toyota pulled in. Clara got out of the older car and breezed past me. “Come on. I’m hungry.”
I hesitated at the door for a sec. This should be no big deal. If Lou was working this afternoon, I was just another guy ordering pizza. There was absolutely no fucking reason I should be nervous enough that my belly was too messed up to want to eat.
The place was pretty busy. Three people worked the counter—an older man with white hair and two girls, all wearing the signature green Martelli’s shirts. I ordered after Clara, and as I paid, I couldn’t help it. I had to ask.
“Oh, uh, is Lou working today?”
The girl looked up from counting my change. “Why?”
I probably should have come up with a reason for asking. “Just wanted to say hi.” I grabbed the change and made a beeline for the booth Clara had commandeered.
“Any reason you’re suddenly bright red?” Clara asked between sips of her fountain drink.
“Nope.” I grabbed the napkin dispenser and started to pull out a few flimsy white squares. Those things never really worked unless you had a million of them wadded together. “So, are you happy with your group?”
“I don’t like being assigned one on the first day of class. At least one kid is not going to show up again. Two won’t do any of the work. It’ll just be me and Ana making up the PowerPoint about two minutes before it’s due.”
I laughed. That described most of the group projects I’d been subjected to. “We could trade?”
“Hell no, I’m keeping Ana.”
I tried to figure out which one of my classmates was Ana. “She’s the girl with the braids?”
“What, you weren’t paying attention during the icebreaker?” Clara made a tsking noise, referring to the very embarrassing game we all had to play before class. It really hadn’t helped me get to know any of my classmates better.
“I didn’t think I was going to get quizzed on it.” Finally satisfied with my pile of paper napkins, I passed the dispenser over to her. “This is my first semester here. I’m not even a hundred percent sure what the professor’s name is.”
“Transfer?”
“Sort of. I’m taking a year off from Rutgers.”
“And you came here?” She spread her hands out incredulously.
What was weird about that? If you lived here all the time, it would seem strange. But hey, thousands of people showed up here every summer. Really, what was the problem?
“I can’t resist the funnel cake.”
“It is hard to resist the carby sweet goodness.”
Our food arrived—two slices of Sicilian for me, and one measly slice of plain for her. The girl from the register delivered it, skillfully handling the paper plates like fine china.
“Thanks,” I told her.
“What did you say your name was? That way I can tell Lou you were looking for him?”
My shoulders tightened. I set myself up for this. “Uh. Nick?”
“Are you sure about that?”
I glared at Clara, who’d ducked her head, but I saw that grin. “Yes. I am sure about my name.”
Clara waited until the waitress left before questioning me. “Lou? Is he an old friend?”
“I just met him.” I picked up a slice of too-hot pizza and blew on it to keep from meeting her eyes.
“Uh-huh. I know why we drove an extra mile for pizza.”
From the general tone of her teasing, I didn’t think she had a problem, but I had to be sure. I couldn’t be friends with someone who didn’t accept me for what I was, and I really liked Clara. I hoped my instincts would serve me right for once. “And you’re cool with that?”
She looked confused. “I’m here, aren’t I? Oh, you mean because you came all this way to see another guy?”
I may have slouched down in my seat. “Yes?”
“It’s okay, dude. We’ve all done stupid stuff for crushes.”
And just like that, I knew we would be friends.
Chapter 3
THE FOLLOWING Tuesday, I sat in my car outside Martelli’s Pizza, and I felt like an idiot. Through the giant glass windows, I could clearly see Lou sweeping up in there. For a moment, it was nice to watch. His broad shoulders were a joy to behold, and I entertained the fantasy of being pinned down beneath them. Lou was broader and taller than me, and the thought of all that strength turned me the fuck on.
Course, all the fantasies in the world didn’t mean a damn thing if he wasn’t gay.
Or if I was too chickenshit to go in there and talk to him.
I’d made sure to return on the same day of the week as the first time we’d met, a little past closing time. I didn’t want any witnesses to my making a fool of myself, and I definitely wanted to be sure he’d be here. I’d fucked around at the library for an extra hour, even though I’d finished my work for the whole week.
Time to grow a pair. I got out of the car and went inside. That same bell jingled as I opened the door, and damn if he wasn’t listening to Springsteen again.
He looked up and grinned as I entered. The smile brightened his stupid, adorable face and set my heart pounding. “Hey. You came back.”
“Hi.” I put my hands in my pockets because I didn’t know what to do with myself. “Yeah, I did. Figured I knew you worked Tuesday nights.”
“Most nights. I live upstairs, so lucky me, I get to close up.” He rolled his eyes. “Have a seat.”
Lou collected the broom and dustpan and tucked them in a corner. He moved behind the counter as I took the same seat I had before. He actually seemed happy to see me. Huh.
Lou grabbed a dish towel, opened the oven, and pulled out two steaming bowls of spaghetti and meatballs. “Figured you’d be hungry.”
“You must have been pretty confident I’d come back.” I could’ve kicked myself the second I said it. I shouldn’t question this. The moment I started doubting and second-guessing, I’d screw it all up.
He winked again, and fuck if I didn’t melt into a tiny puddle of goo on the spot. “I figured if you went to the trouble of talking to my sister, then you’d be back.”
“That was your sister?” Now that I thought about it, there was something similar about their eyes. I should have realized it sooner. “Wait, does that mean the old guy working in the kitchen was your dad?”
“Depends on what day it was. We do have a few nonfamily employees.” Lou grabbed some silverware from beneath the counter, along with a real cloth napkin and set it next to the food in front of me. “Dig in.”
I took the cloth napkin and laughed. “I made a mess of myself last time?” Or maybe he couldn’t stand to watch me make another messy pile of napkins on the counter.
Lou tapped the napkin dispenser. “We save the cloth ones for the customers we like.”
The twelve-year-old in me wanted him to clarify—did he like me, or did he like me? Instead I twirled up a helping of spaghetti. I wasn’t as hungry as the first time I landed here, but I could always eat.
The sauce tickled my nose with its scent, but when I filled my mouth, it felt like something was missing. “This isn’t your sauce,” I accused. “Or, gravy, whatever.”
“No. It’s the house gravy.”
“Well, yours is much better.”
His cheeks went red, and he ducked his head. “Don’t let my father hear you say that. That right there is the product of a hundred years of my Italian ancestors.”
I took a risk. I covered his hand with my own and that forced him to look up. “Well, those ancestors ain’t got nothing on you.”
“Thanks.” He pulled his hand away to
continue eating.
I chowed down. It might not have been Lou’s sauce, but it was still really good, better than anything I had in the kitchen back at the Shore house. The stuff in the jar didn’t even compare.
I’d finished and was staring down at the gravy left in my bowl, wondering if I could get any of that fantastic bread to dip into it when Lou startled me.
“Would you like to go to breakfast with me?”
“Breakfast?” As far as dates went, breakfast usually came afterward.
“Yeah, I work nights, so….”
“I can see how that would hinder your social life.”
He shrugged. “Are you interested?”
“Well, I have an early class tomorrow.” I pulled out my phone, mostly for something to do; it wasn’t like I needed to check my schedule at this point. “Maybe Friday?”
“What’s your number? I’ll text you when and where.”
We exchanged numbers, and I left Lou to finish his cleanup. But I’d gotten to my car door before I realized Lou never said if it was a date.
Crap.
WHEN I walked into class the next morning, both Clara and Ana waved me over to where they sat at their desks in the middle of the room.
“What would you think about switching groups?” Clara asked before I could even sit down.
“Good morning? How are you on this fine day? The sun is shining, the seagulls are chirping… ow!” I rubbed my arm where Clara punched me. Girl had an arm.
“We’ve got, like, five minutes before class starts, and I want to grab the professor first. Are you down for it? You, me, and Ana? Three people who’d actually do the work?”
I looked over at Ana. She and Clara could not be more different. Where Clara rocked the grunge chic, Ana seemed like a transplant from Preppyville. She wore her hair in tight braids tied neatly back into a ponytail. She had a blazer over her button-down shirt. A plaid skirt and brown Mary Janes completed the look. I didn’t know if she’d done it on purpose or if she meant it to be ironic. Still, she seemed super serious in class. “How do you feel about this?”
She pushed up her thick black plastic glasses. “I want to work with someone who pulls their weight. Clara seems to think you’re one of those.”
“Here she comes. You in or not?” Clara looked ready to bolt as the door to the classroom swung open.
“I’m in.”
She ran to catch the professor before class could start. I didn’t hear what she said, but her eyes got all wide, and she pulled this “sweet as a kitten” look.
Short story? We got to change our groups.
I grabbed Clara after class and asked why. It wasn’t that she sussed out what a great student I was during the brief lunch we had.
She shrugged. “The guys in our group were jerks. Same with the ones in yours. I wanted to spare you the hassle.” Clara looked around the hallway, and satisfied at what she saw, continued, “Did you ever meet up with him? Your guy?”
It hit me. “Were you, like, trying to protect me ’cause I’m gay? I can handle a couple of meatheads.”
“Not when your GPA is at risk, uni boy.” She poked me. “I know those guys. They’d have fucked you over for no reason.”
I rubbed my chest. Girl did not know her own strength. “Well, thanks. And I did. Meet up with my guy. We’re going on a maybe date on Friday.”
“A maybe date?”
“He never said it was a date.” I frowned. “But he did invite me out to eat.”
“Keep your head on straight. I won’t be there to do it for you.”
“That’s about the only part of me that is.”
“Ass.”
FRIDAY I went for a run on the boardwalk, as I did every morning. I liked getting out there with the sun touching the top of the ocean. I breathed in fresh sea air as my feet pounded against the wooden boards.
I made it home with enough time to shower and get ready. What the heck should I wear to a breakfast date? My options were kind of limited. I’d packed clothes, but not my entire wardrobe. My clothes were split between my mom’s and dad’s places as it was. I didn’t come down here looking to do any dating. Although what the hell had I expected when I moved here for the year? To live like a monk and meditate on the beach?
I needed to figure myself out, but that wouldn’t help.
I slipped on my best pair of jeans—no holes or stains, and they made my ass look fabulous. It was still warm enough for a T-shirt that I paired with a jacket. A few drops of gel to tame my unruly blond hair, and I was set. Tell me how you like me now, Lou Martelli.
My confidence vanished when I pulled into the lot of Morning Joe. In his text, Lou had said it was a hole in the wall, and he wasn’t kidding. The place shared a lot with a gas station on a busy corner of Route 37. All the walls were made of glass, allowing you to look inside and see the typical diner setup—tables and stools along a counter. The sign outside glowed neon, as did the accent lights around the windows.
I got out of my car, feeling a little apprehensive. I didn’t see any sign of Lou anywhere. Should I go in? Wait out here?
The rumbling of a motorcycle caught my attention as the bike roared into the lot and came to a stop in the spot right next to mine. The driver cut the engine and pulled off his helmet, revealing Lou straddling the bike.
I gaped at him. Fuck, he looked good enough to eat—muscled legs hugged by dark jeans, leather jacket over a white T-shirt, and tousled curls flattened from the helmet.
“Nice bike.” I tried to play it cool.
He grinned. “We need to take advantage of the great weather while it lasts.”
Okay, he was the kind of guy who liked motorcycles and cooking pasta. I’d figure him out yet. “Shall we?”
I held open the door for him. Hey, I could be a gentleman when I wanted.
Another damn bell jingled, and the waitress told us to sit anywhere we liked. Our choices were the counter or a table near the window facing the traffic streaming by. I thought it would have gotten better after Labor Day, and while the throngs of tourists had retreated, it seemed there was no end to traffic on Route 37.
We chose the table. I picked up the sticky laminated menu and scanned it. Did I feel like pancakes?
“Do you trust me?” Lou slid into the seat across from me and didn’t touch the menu.
“That’s a rather loaded question.”
He laughed. “Well, when it comes to food, at least.”
“When it comes to food? Implicitly.” I’d tasted his food. He certainly had good taste. Heh.
When the waitress came around, Lou flashed her a big grin. “Two breakfast specials, please. And two glasses of the fresh-squeezed orange juice.”
“And a coffee,” I put in. Not facing the day without one.
“Two coffees,” Lou agreed.
She scribbled the order and darted away, off to answer the call of another diner. The place was tiny but already filled to capacity. We were lucky we got here when we did.
“So, what is this?” I asked, never able to keep my mouth shut. “The greatest culinary hits of the Jersey Shore?”
“It’s one of my favorite places.” He shrugged. “Figured you probably missed it.”
During the summer, Devon only kept the Shore house stocked with cereal, and that was enough to tide me over before jetting out to the beach. We never even ventured back onto the mainland. There was too much to do and see, with days of sunbathing and nights out on the boardwalk or around the fire pit. The summer had passed like a whirlwind, and right now, it seemed like it had happened a long time ago instead of last month.
Still, I never even noticed this place, and I drove this road every day. What else had I missed?
“You’re right. My friends and I never found your pizza place, and right now I’m kicking myself for that. I could have been eating much better food all summer long.”
He grinned in response.
The waitress returned with our orange juice. I took a sip and nearly orgasmed
on the spot. Holy crap. When they said fresh squeezed, they weren’t kidding. The tang hit my tongue first, but the sweetness made it perfect.
“Good?” Lou asked. The way he looked at me—those dark eyes suddenly heavy-lidded as they flickered down to my lips and back up to meet my eyes—yeah, no way was this man straight.
“Oh yeah,” I returned in a low tone.
“I like watching you eat. You always seem to appreciate it.” The tips of his ears turned pink. That was adorable.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one a little out of my element here. Lou seemed just as unsure, despite his attempts at flirting. That actually made me feel a little better. Lou wasn’t perfect, and I liked that about him.
Of course, that did make me a bit self-conscious when the food finally arrived. What if I didn’t like it? Crap, I should have stuck with pancakes.
Then I bit into the breakfast quesadilla, only one part of the huge special Lou had ordered us both. Cheese, peppers, and onions were all scrambled together in a warm tortilla. It was like heaven in my mouth. Add in some homemade lime salsa and wow.
Lou laughed as I moaned. “Now you’re making fun of me.”
“Never.” I took a sip of coffee—also amazing. “I think I’m going to have to add a few more miles to my morning run if I keep eating like this.”
He nodded. “That’s why I started lifting. I was starting to get a little round in the belly. All those glorious carbs.”
I eyed those magnificent biceps, barely concealed beneath that white T-shirt. “You’re a gym hound?”
“It’s something to do.” He shrugged. “I took a few classes at SCC. Didn’t really work out. I like doing things with my hands.”
I eyed the way Lou deftly handled the knife and fork. There was control and restrained power in his movement. I’d love to feel the magic those hands could make on my skin.
Our knees knocked together under the table, and he smiled at me, but this time he looked almost dangerous.
“I’d like to take you for a ride.”
“What?” I spat out the orange juice I’d hastily drunk and coughed into a napkin. There went any bit of suave I might have had left.
