by Jo Michaels
Finally, it was time to serve. A line had formed out front, and when the doors were opened, people moved along in a slow but orderly fashion. Spying a line of tables near the exit piled high with bread, she nudged the boss of the teen work crew and asked what it was.
“Oh, yeah, that’s for folks to take home with them. We’re only able to feed them one meal a day, so they take day-old bread to have something to eat for dinner and breakfast.” She sighed. “I’m Fran, by the way. You work pretty well. Best I’ve had in a while.”
“Thanks.” Simone smiled through the sadness for the people who had nothing. “You here a lot? I thought Gretchen said you were state labor. Doesn’t that have an end date?”
Fran chuckled. “I was. Twice, in fact. But now, I come by to run the staties so she doesn’t have to worry with them. Every pair of hands around here helps. Those girls don’t want to be here, so they usually slack. I assumed you were one of them.”
“Good to know your opinion can be changed.”
Tristan was behind the counter, scooping food onto trays, smiling at the people in line. Simone noticed he always gave the kids a little extra, and it made her fall a little in love with him. Suddenly, he lifted his head and locked eyes with her. His wink made her heart skip a beat.
“Oooooh, I think someone’s in love!” Fran exclaimed.
“Huh?” While Simone could feel the heat in her face, she didn’t realize anyone was watching her stare at Tristan.
“I see you two making googly eyes at one another.”
“Oh, noooo! No, no, no, no. Tristan is just a friend.”
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
Every inch of skin on her body heated to epic proportions.
“Ha! I knew I was right!” Fran slapped her thigh and barked a laugh. “You know, you look like you could use some fresh air. They won’t need us again until it clears out. Let’s go around back.” She headed down the hall and slammed her way through the door at the end.
All the other girls in the work crew—the staties, as Fran had called them—were huddled together under a tree, smoking.
“Put that shit out!” she yelled. “There’s no smoking around here! What’s wrong with y’all?”
One of the girls flipped a middle finger in Fran’s direction, and they all laughed.
“Yeah, we’ll see who’s laughing when I tell your probation officer! Get your asses back in there and hand out bus tickets!”
That sobered them, and they quickly snuffed their smokes and went back inside.
“Little leeches.” Though it seemed Fran was annoyed, she was grinning.
“You’re quite the crew boss.”
“You have to have a firm hand or they run all over you.” She sighed. “They’re not bad kids. They just messed up. I always hope it’ll make them see how good they have it.”
“Does it ever work?”
“It did for me.” After plopping down in an old, rusty chair, she motioned to the other one. “Sit, and tell me all about you and Tristan.”
Simone carefully perched on the edge of the seat with her hands in her lap. “There’s really nothing to tell. We went out on a date last night, and now I’m here.”
“How long have you known him?”
“A little over a month. My mom works in his restaurant.”
“You mean his family’s restaurant. He’ll have it one day, but they don’t trust him enough to hand it over yet.” Fran stretched out, angling her face toward the sun.
“How do you know that?” Several ideas flashed through Simone’s head about Tristan and Fran. She was an awfully good-looking girl.
“Oh, honey, I’m all up in everyone’s business.” She squinted at Simone. “Probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I heard Gretchen’s close to losing this place. People simply aren’t as giving as they once were.”
“How’d you find that out?”
“I listen when people talk.” After a wink, she narrowed both eyes. “Speaking of which, we need to get back. I hear pots banging around in there.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in a sec.”
Fran headed inside, and Simone ran around the front of the building to check on her backpack. It was still under the seat where she’d left it, evident by the barest hint of a strap hanging out. A relieved sigh burst out of her, and she hurried back to work.
While they cleaned, she thought about all the people who wouldn’t have a decent meal each day if Gretchen’s place closed, and it settled a heavy kind of sadness around Simone. Mopping, stacking chairs, and picking up spice shakers did little to alleviate the weight. She wished she could do something more, but her financial situation wasn’t exactly screaming at her to be giving. It all pressed down and didn’t let up until she resolved to give every free Saturday she could to the cause.
After emptying the last bucket of dirty mop water, she turned to find Tristan leaning against the doorframe, his ankles crossed over one another, and his hands shoved in his pockets. He caught her eye and grinned, motioning for her to come talk to him.
She held up one finger to indicate she’d be right there and went to say goodbye to Fran and Gretchen.
They thanked Simone for her help, and with a round of hugs, told her to come back anytime.
Her stomach clenched when she turned a corner and found Tristan in what appeared to be deep conversation with a leggy brunette. Rather than turn away, Simone slowly walked toward them, scrutinizing as she went. He pinched his eyebrows together and leaned toward the girl, gesturing wildly with his hands; his face was flushed.
She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes blazing. When she saw they had company, she snarled at him and spun around, stomping away.
Tristan didn’t turn around at first. His hands were fists at his sides, and he stared in the direction she’d gone, shoulders rising and falling with his breaths.
Simone waited patiently nearby while he pulled his emotions in.
“Hey.” He tried to smile, but it came off a bit more like a grimace, and chucked a thumb over his shoulder. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. Seemed like a heated argument.”
In response, he flared his nostrils and pressed his lips together.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine, but I’m starving!” Turning, he headed toward the exit. “You wanna get something to eat before we head home?”
“You bet. I could eat a horse.” In her head, she added, and you can tell me what that was all about.
It was nearly four by the time they got a table, and Simone could feel her stomach eating itself as she perused the menu. Everything sounded good, but her wallet told her she needed to keep it on the cheap. When the waiter asked for her order, she told him she wanted a glass of water and a house salad with ranch.
Tristan chuckled. “Nah, she really wants a coke and a steak with that salad.”
“Okay. How would you like that cooked, ma’am?”
“Tristan, really, I ju—”
“It’s on me tonight. I didn’t take you to dinner last night, so I feel like I owe you one.”
His hand on hers made it hard to think, so she just nodded and said, “Medium rare, please.”
“And for you, sir?”
“I’ll have the baby back ribs, a side salad with ranch, and mac and cheese.”
“And to drink?”
“A coke would be amazing.” Tristan closed his menu and handed it over.
“Very good. I’ll be right back with those cokes.”
Simone wondered how he always seemed to know what she was thinking, but rather than ask, she leaned forward and put her forearms on the table. “So, who was the girl back at Gretchen’s?”
“An ex. She knew where to find me and decided to corner me there to plead her case, yet again.”
“Oh. Do you take all your dates to the soup kitchen?”
He laughed. “No. She’d never! Besides, I usually keep that part of my life to myself.
Because she was such a maniac about needing to know where I was every second of every day, I told her.”
While that admission made Simone a little bit happy, it also scared her shitless. Tristan was an enigma, and he was apparently letting her into parts of his life he usually kept closed off. “Then why me?”
“Huh?”
“Why’d you take me there? If you don’t usually show people that side of your life, why’d you show me?” It was like word vomit, but she couldn’t turn it off. She felt sick when she started to think maybe he only saw her as a friend and that was why he was letting her see. After all, he hadn’t kissed her the night before.
Mimicking her posture, he leaned forward until their noses nearly touched, burning into her very soul with his gaze. In a breathy whisper, he answered, “Because I don’t think you’re like the others. You showed me yourself last night. Who you are, what you’ve been through, and I trusted you’d see the value in my Saturday commitments.” One hand rose, and he cupped her chin, running his thumb along her jawline. “You’re truly a beautiful person. Inside and out. I can only hope I’m worthy of you.”
Her brain was on overload, thoughts scattered, and the roaring in her ears suddenly drowned everything out again. His hand touching her face, his lips so close, his words…
When the waiter arrived with the cokes, Tristan was forced to sit back, and it broke the spell he’d put her under.
Why he’d suddenly turned into Don Juan, she could only imagine, and wondering why dear Don hadn’t kissed her the night before if he wanted a relationship with her was driving her mad. Before she could stop it, the words tumbled out.
“If you think I’m so awesome, why didn’t you kiss me last night after our date?” She could feel the scalding heat rise to her cheeks, but she refused to look down and challenged him with her eyes.
Their waiter froze, casting looks between the two of them, and then he blushed, backed up, and scurried away.
Tristan smiled, and his eyes softened. “Simone. If I wasn’t interested in you, I wouldn’t have come back this morning. You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you last night. But doing so would’ve made me everything I don’t want to be. When I first picked you up, I was excited about the prospect of kissing you, but then you told me your story.”
“So now you don’t want to kiss me because you’re not sure if we’ll be a thing, or is it because you think I’ll be bad at it?” Her every fear was coming true. Stupidly, she’d let her mouth run, and it had killed every chance she ever would’ve had with the amazingly sweet guy sitting across from her. It was all she could do not to run to the bathroom and throw up.
His hand was suddenly on hers, and she froze as a wave of calm enveloped her.
“No. I want us to be ‘a thing’ more than I can verbalize. What I don’t want to do is confuse you, hurt you, or scare you. This isn’t going to happen overnight, and I want us to take our time getting to know one another. Do you understand?”
No. “Yes.”
“You’re saying yes, but I can see you’re not getting it.”
“What?”
“Let me try again. You’ve never been in any kind of relationship, right?”
“Right.” She nodded.
“So, you don’t know what you like and don’t like. You’ve never been in love, and I’m guessing you’ve never had sex. Right?”
Her face flamed.
So did his. “Don’t answer that last part. Sorry. Damn.” He slouched and shook his head. “I’m not very good at this.”
“No, no. Keep going. You’re doing fine.”
After a deep inhale, he locked eyes with her. “What it comes down to is this: I’m not going to take advantage of you. If I did, I’d beat myself up for being an asshole for the rest of my life. Instead, I’m going to go slowly and let you make decisions as we move ahead. Whatever time you need to make those choices, I’ll try my best to give it to you. No questions asked. I’m also rather terrified you’ll decide I’m not the one for you, and you’ll end up breaking my heart. But, for all intents and purposes, I’d love it if you’d agree to be my girlfriend.” Air rushed out of him. “Whew. That was harder than I thought it would be.” He grinned and nodded. “I can see you get it now. Good.”
Words left her, and she found herself staring across the table, not sure she heard him right.
Their food arrived, the smell of the steak, and her stomach’s response, shattering the moment.
“Awesome. I was getting ready to eat my own arm.” Tristan said how good everything looked and then dove in. It didn’t take long for him to have barbeque sauce all over his face.
When Simone giggled, he smiled and chewed happily.
She was floating on cloud nine, elated that he’d asked her to be his—and only his—until she realized she’d never asked why he’d broken up with his ex or what their fight was all about. He looked so happy in that moment, and Simone decided to let it wait until another time, enjoying the amazing steak dinner in front of her.
Finally, they finished, and he wiped his face, sitting back in the booth and patting his stomach.
Their waiter returned. “How was everything?”
“It was amazing,” she answered.
“Did you save room for dessert?”
“Oh, gosh no! I’m stuffed!”
Tristan shook his head, too.
“I’ll bring the check then.”
He paid, and they stood to leave, her trusty backpack slung over one shoulder, the weight of the book comforting. It was everything she’d ever hoped and dreamed of when he reached over and took her hand.
“You never answered me,” he mock-whispered as they walked out.
“About what?”
“Will you make me the happiest man alive and agree to be my girlfriend?”
“Of course.” She couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on her face then if she’d wanted to.
He did a little dancing two-step and held the door while she passed through.
Once they were back in the truck, he gazed at her a long moment.
This is it. Don’t be scared. It’s just a kiss. She psyched herself up.
“I’m not going to kiss you right now, even though I want to. This isn’t the time.” Infuriatingly, he winked.
It was a lion that hung over her head, waiting to swallow her whole. All the way home, she wished he’d do it and get it over with so she wouldn’t have to stress about it anymore. But he chatted about everything and nothing as he drove, his posture relaxed and open.
Again, he walked her to the door and gave her a hug. “Thanks for today. I’m glad you didn’t demand to be brought home.”
“No way! I had fun, and it gave me the feel-good fuzzies. Thanks for taking me along.”
“Call me. We’ll do something this week; maybe I can take you out for dinner or coffee after work one night.”
Her heart raced. “Deal.”
“Did he not want to come in?” Yvette asked.
“He was pretty tired. We worked all day.” Wishing for time to reflect on everything wasn’t going to get Simone anywhere, so she sat down and told her mother all about the day, down to meeting Fran and Gretchen, and the amazing work the women were doing with the homeless.
“So, it wasn’t a date?”
“I think it was. As a matter of fact, it was kind of the perfect date,” Simone answered.
“He’s a nice boy, and he works hard. I don’t know how he keeps his grades up and does everything else, too.”
“Grades?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Tristan goes to UTC. Did he not tell you that?”
She felt like a total ass for being so wrapped up in her own damned drama that she never thought to ask him very much about his life. They simply hadn’t had time. “I didn’t ask. It was really more about me. And you…”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” Yvette put her hand on her daughter’s.
Remembering her mother said she had news, Simone lightened, determine
d to show someone she cared and remembered. “But what’s your news?”
“I went on three interviews yesterday, and one of the firms was very interested.”
She threw her arms around her mom. “Oh, Mom! Congratulations! That’s amazing.”
“Thank you, sweetie. I hope so.” Her eyes watered. “I’ve missed you the last two days.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“But you look exhausted. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”
“Noooo! I wanna hang out with you a while,” Simone said. “Why don’t we pop some popcorn and watch a movie?”
They decided on an old Tammy movie and settled on the couch. Fifteen minutes in, Simone’s eyes slammed shut.
Sunday morning arrived way too early, and Simone woke on the couch with a crick in her neck, drool dried on her cheek, and an old quilt draped over her legs. Wiping her palms over her face, she twisted her head from side to side, trying to work out the ache. Coffee smells wafted from the kitchen, drawing her like a mosquito to a bug zapper.
She filled her cup and added sugar, and while she stirred with one hand, she opened the fridge to grab the milk with the other. There were upsides to having a small living space. Her heart was as full as her head with thoughts of Tristan. When she dug her phone out of her bag, she saw he’d sent her a text and worried her lip with her fingers. A refill on minutes would be first on the agenda for sure. But, since the first text had been sent, and the twenty cents already counted for the day, she clicked the button to read and respond.
THX AGAIN 4 YESTERDAY. HAD FUN. C U SOON!
Inwardly, she groaned. Why people couldn’t bother spelling things out was beyond her. She’d seen his phone; it had a fancy touch screen. Abbreviations had been invented when folks still had phones like hers and had to press each letter a billion times to tap out a message. Deciding to talk with him about it later, she replied.
I HAD FUN, TOO. CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU AGAIN. HOPE IT’S SOON.
A reply came right back. 2NIGHT THEN?
I HAVE TO WORK UNTIL 9. HOW ABOUT TOMORROW NIGHT?
YEP. C U THEN.
After snapping the phone shut, she grabbed her bag and her coffee and went to take a shower in preparation for church.
