An eternity seems to pass. “Look, it’s normal, and it happens,” he says, trying to adopt the sage voice of an elder or something. It’s not that Trav isn’t those things; it’s just that his tone most often gives away the fact that he’s the most dangerous thing walking the streets.
He’s not even wrong. Attraction happens between coworkers, especially in the restaurant industry.
“Yeah, I know. It’s no big deal.” Except all the times I’ve done things, like try to taunt him into taking me, flash before my eyes, making me live to regret my choices yet again. He probably thinks I’m over here obsessing about him.
Maybe because you are.
Anyway…
He doesn’t have to be like me. So, he’s attracted to me? It’ll pass. Get buried in the same place he buried his feelings for Lana. Speaking of Lana, maybe all this is really just Trav’s reaction to his first time being attracted to a man. That could explain at least half the shock.
Not totally intense feelings of desire for me.
I just spent twenty-four hours in agony, thinking Trav was gonna be outta my life for good. I’m not rocking the boat by making that clarification.
“That’s right. No big deal.” His voice is as flinty as steel, and it’s so fucking clear that he doesn’t wanna touch the idea of us with a forty-foot hockey stick.
Man, I was so delusional. As much as I told myself it wouldn’t and shouldn’t happen, guess I wanted it. Guess all of that was bullshit. I take a slow breath before I forget to.
We slowly find our way back to a new normal. The lightning’s always there, threatening to consume us.
But we never touch it.
And Trav does a helluva lot better at getting over it than I ever could.
Dirk, Age 21
What do you do when your lungs want to burst as soon as you’re near someone? Turns out, no one knows the answer to that question. It happens like clockwork. Trav walks into the room, and it’s like a million fireflies bursting brightly inside me. We don’t even have fireflies in Vancouver.
I’m clearing one of my tables. The two-way door to the kitchen swings open at the same time Jack’s coming around the corner with his hands full of steak knives.
“Corner—whoa! Blades down, Leslie. Don’t feel like spilling my guts on the floor today, thanks,” Trav says in that deep tenor of his that has whatever turns on my arousal, sitting up like a dog.God. It’s so good. Bet it would be even better if he were whispering filthy, filthy words into my ear.
“Hockey players,” he mutters as Jack carries on toward the server station to load his sharpened blades into an insert.
My lips twist into a half smile, and I look up without thinking about it. Trav’s gaze locks with mine, catching me snickering at the scolding Jack just got. He winks. My smile stretches into something that could be considered an actual fucking smile. Those imaginary fireflies? Those little lightbulb-assed bastards are back, and they’re lighting up my whole internal sky.
Trav. Smiles. Back.
And know what I do? I duck my head. That’s the behavior of a shy person, of a person who’s smitten and not the “I totally don’t care that you’re ridiculously good-looking and am most definitely not into you” person that I am.
By the way, my face is on fire. Great. This is just fucking great. Now I’ve got to figure out what the fuck that meant.
No. No, I don’t. It was nothing.
Ugh, but it was alsonotnothing.
Actually, I do know what it meant. It means that he’s comfortable enough to wink at me, because he’s not utterly captivated by me like I am him. He’s into women, anyway, and that’s how I’m gonna remind myself he’s off limits.
Aweek has passed since what I’m calling the “flirtatious smile incident”. We’re trying to restock after the devastation that was the dinner rush. I’m actually cut for once, which means the hosts won’t be giving me any new tables. I’ll finish the ones I have, and then I’m off for the night. I haven’t been off this early on a Saturday since … fuck, I can’t remember. Not that itmatters. Stacey and Dash had some kind of fight. They’re doing this weird thing where they keep each other in their sights, all the while a storm cloud of hurt and anger follows them. Maybe I’ll stay and have a beer with Casey and Jack.
I’m mentally clocked out as I round the corner, so I forget to say “corner”. Todd—another server who’s been here since the beginning of the summer—barrels around from the other side. I catch the flash of steel, and it’s thanks to my quick hockey reflexes that the blades only catch my arm instead of sinking into my stomach.
“Shit, sorry. I should have said corner,” he says.
“Yeah, me too. My bad.”
“How many times do I gotta say blades down?” Trav growls, bowling through servers and bussers to get to me. He sets a full glare on Todd. “You could’ve fatally stabbed him. My office, now.”
