waiter.
Besides, Rachel was right. The whole thing was a stupid idea. It wouldn't have worked anyway.
I ate slowly, mostly because I had no appetite. Samantha and Logan finished way before I did and then had to sit there and watch me pick at my food. "You don't have to wait for me," I told them. "If you need to go, I understand."
"We can wait," Samantha said. "It's no problem."
"Are you done with your calculus homework yet?" Logan asked her. Logan is Samantha's self-appointed tutor ever since last year when she bombed the SATs.
"Not really," she said and looked at me to see whether I wanted her to stay or not.
"You might as well go," I said. "We came in separate cars anyway."
The waitress brought our checks, and Logan took care of their bill.
"Sorry Romeo didn't show up," Samantha whispered to me.
Logan leaned closer to me and said, "Don't feel bad. It wouldn't have worked out—I've read the story and you both die in the end."
Then Samantha and Logan said their good-byes to me and walked out of the restaurant holding hands.
I dug my wallet out of my purse, laid twenty dollars on the bill, and took a drink, waiting for the waitress to come.
When she did, she looked over her shoulder, then back at me. "Can I see some ID with that?"
I blinked up at her, wondering if she'd automatically assumed I laid down a credit card. "I need an ID to pay with cash?"
"The manager requested it."
"The manager," I repeated, and blushed.
I dug my driver's license out of my wallet and gave it to her. Maybe in some horrible twist of fate I'd unknowingly given them a counterfeit bill and I'd be dragged off to a police station for questioning. Rachel would be so disappointed to have missed it.
Or maybe, yes—it was the guy, and he was walking toward me with my ID. I wondered when he had noticed me and why I hadn't seen him.
He sat down on the chair across from me and handed me both my money and my driver's license.
"I'm comping your meal, Chelsea. It was worth it just to find out what your name really is."
"Thanks." I slipped my ID back into my wallet. "I told you all along my name was Chelsea."
"Yes, but you did it under suspicious circumstances. Why was everyone else calling you Juliet?"
I hesitated, thought about it, and took the fifth. "I could explain, but I'd rather appear mysterious. Is it working?"
He tilted his head down and laughed. The tenseness left his eyes. "I guess so." He held out his hand to shake mine. "I'm Tanner. Now we've officially met."
I shook his hand, afraid I was blushing again. College girls probably didn't blush when they met guys. "Aren't you kind of young to be a manager here?" I asked and held my breath, hoping he didn't answer with something like, "Yeah, everyone tells me I look so young. Actually I'm twenty-five . . ."
Instead he shrugged. "I'm really an assistant manager. For a while my brother took to shortening the term 'assistant' to—well, it's just easier to say manager—so that's what most of the employees call me." He shrugged and his blue eyes crinkled around the corners as though he was letting me in on a secret. "My parents own the restaurant."
How come every time I saw him he looked better than the time before? "That must be nice," I said. "I bet you always get really good dinners and stuff" I didn't know what else to say and realized my last sentence had verged on babbling. Having a hot guy sitting so close will do that to you.
"I eat well when I work here," he said. "I can't say the same for dorm food."
He probably needed to get back to work doing whatever it was assistant managers did, but I didn't want him to leave. We stared at each other for another moment and then because I couldn't think of a casual way to say it, I just blurted out, "So Tanner, we didn't really get off to the greatest start. Do you believe in second chances?" The next moment stretched out as I waited for his answer.
He smiled, nodded and leaned closer to me. "Yeah, I guess I do."
"Great," I said
Besides, Rachel was right. The whole thing was a stupid idea. It wouldn't have worked anyway.
I ate slowly, mostly because I had no appetite. Samantha and Logan finished way before I did and then had to sit there and watch me pick at my food. "You don't have to wait for me," I told them. "If you need to go, I understand."
"We can wait," Samantha said. "It's no problem."
"Are you done with your calculus homework yet?" Logan asked her. Logan is Samantha's self-appointed tutor ever since last year when she bombed the SATs.
"Not really," she said and looked at me to see whether I wanted her to stay or not.
"You might as well go," I said. "We came in separate cars anyway."
The waitress brought our checks, and Logan took care of their bill.
"Sorry Romeo didn't show up," Samantha whispered to me.
Logan leaned closer to me and said, "Don't feel bad. It wouldn't have worked out—I've read the story and you both die in the end."
Then Samantha and Logan said their good-byes to me and walked out of the restaurant holding hands.
I dug my wallet out of my purse, laid twenty dollars on the bill, and took a drink, waiting for the waitress to come.
When she did, she looked over her shoulder, then back at me. "Can I see some ID with that?"
I blinked up at her, wondering if she'd automatically assumed I laid down a credit card. "I need an ID to pay with cash?"
"The manager requested it."
"The manager," I repeated, and blushed.
I dug my driver's license out of my wallet and gave it to her. Maybe in some horrible twist of fate I'd unknowingly given them a counterfeit bill and I'd be dragged off to a police station for questioning. Rachel would be so disappointed to have missed it.
Or maybe, yes—it was the guy, and he was walking toward me with my ID. I wondered when he had noticed me and why I hadn't seen him.
He sat down on the chair across from me and handed me both my money and my driver's license.
"I'm comping your meal, Chelsea. It was worth it just to find out what your name really is."
"Thanks." I slipped my ID back into my wallet. "I told you all along my name was Chelsea."
"Yes, but you did it under suspicious circumstances. Why was everyone else calling you Juliet?"
I hesitated, thought about it, and took the fifth. "I could explain, but I'd rather appear mysterious. Is it working?"
He tilted his head down and laughed. The tenseness left his eyes. "I guess so." He held out his hand to shake mine. "I'm Tanner. Now we've officially met."
I shook his hand, afraid I was blushing again. College girls probably didn't blush when they met guys. "Aren't you kind of young to be a manager here?" I asked and held my breath, hoping he didn't answer with something like, "Yeah, everyone tells me I look so young. Actually I'm twenty-five . . ."
Instead he shrugged. "I'm really an assistant manager. For a while my brother took to shortening the term 'assistant' to—well, it's just easier to say manager—so that's what most of the employees call me." He shrugged and his blue eyes crinkled around the corners as though he was letting me in on a secret. "My parents own the restaurant."
How come every time I saw him he looked better than the time before? "That must be nice," I said. "I bet you always get really good dinners and stuff" I didn't know what else to say and realized my last sentence had verged on babbling. Having a hot guy sitting so close will do that to you.
"I eat well when I work here," he said. "I can't say the same for dorm food."
He probably needed to get back to work doing whatever it was assistant managers did, but I didn't want him to leave. We stared at each other for another moment and then because I couldn't think of a casual way to say it, I just blurted out, "So Tanner, we didn't really get off to the greatest start. Do you believe in second chances?" The next moment stretched out as I waited for his answer.
He smiled, nodded and leaned closer to me. "Yeah, I guess I do."
"Great," I said
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