2I sat in one of the stalls in the women's restroom at Slapshots. My shift on my first day had barely even started and already I was a nervous wreck – nail-biting and knee-jerking anxiety holding a firm grip over my body.
You can talk to people, Sloane. You can be in a crowded room and not expect any small talk. You're a server, for God's sake. All they'll want is food and beer, not your life story.
I reminded myself that I held conversations with Mick and the staff without fumbling over my tongue earlier in the week. Nobody was chomping at the bit to steer clear of me. No one had sent me dirty looks when I had come across as rude or uninterested.
It's all in your fucking head, I told myself.
I shot out of my stall and headed straight for the bathroom sink to splash water on my face. I was grateful I hadn't tried to wear makeup, otherwise, that would've been a battle with myself I'd have little hope of recovering.
I forced myself to calm down with breathing exercises. Four breaths in, four breaths held, four breaths out. I had a love-hate relationship with breathing exercises. Yes, they worked, and I always resented it when they did. How could something so simple work so effectively? Another reminder that I allowed my worries to burden me to the point that breathing can bring me back. I breathe every day; why couldn't that be enough?
Anxiety and breath back to normal, I heaved a great sigh (yes, mental gymnastics is physically exhausting) and walked purposefully out of the restroom. Fake it till you make it, right?
I kept busy by repeatedly cleaning tables in the section I was assigned, making sure that utensils were present, wiping chairs and booths until they were spotless, confirming I had a lofty supply of straws and napkins in the smock tied around my waist; anything to keep my thoughts from running rampant and convincing me to hide in the restroom for the rest of the night.
"Are you okay, honey?" Ruby asked.
"Yeah!" My voice was more high-pitched than ever before. She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I'm really nervous."
"I hadn't noticed," she teased me.
"You saw me this week, Ruby. I don't talk well."
"So what? People won't notice."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, really? For a job that relies almost entirely on tips, having acceptable social skills seems more important now than ever."
"Just pretend you're talking to me. Or Mick. Or the cooks."
I will admit – seeing them almost every day this week while preparing for tonight did help immensely.
"Right," I agreed. Then another thought slipped out of my mouth. "Should I smile when I greet customers?"
She laughed easily. "Only if you want to, honey."
I frowned. "But I thought if I wanted good tips, I needed to look pretty. Isn't smiling kind of like a requirement, then?"
"If you really thought that, you'd have worn eyeliner and those shorts I picked out for you."
I gripped the spandex material of the flared black pants I decided on. I realized I had to be mindful of what I wore once Mick gave me the job, but I couldn't find the resolve to wear something so revealing. These pants alone stuck to me like a second skin, and it took all my courage to leave my dorm in such a state.
"I don't understand how you do that, Ruby," I replied. "It's so cold."
She reassuringly rubbed my arm. "Honey, you are pretty. You can talk to others. And it's your first day. Don't worry so much, 'kay?" With that, she walked to her section and started taking her customers' orders.
I darted my eyes toward my section and, not surprisingly, groups of students started occupying the space. Heart in my throat and eyes wide in terror, I took that first step into the unknown. (Yes, shut up, I realize I am being overdramatic, but can you really blame me?)
Halfway through my shift, I was very tempted to call my first night a success. I was exhausted as was my voice, not used to speaking over a long period of time, even if it was the same phrases repeatedly: "I'm Sloane – your server for the night. What can I get you?", "Specials tonight are chicken parmesan and peach cobbler for dessert", "I'll have to card you if you want alcohol". However, the exhaustion was welcoming and comforting, a side effect of pushing my boundaries.
All of that was forgotten when I flicked my eyes to the entrance as a large group of men took up the space. And lo and behold, there stood Theo, indifferent and intimidating as ever.
I felt the air whoosh out of my lungs once I realized that such a large group meant they'd be seated at one of the larger booths – the only available one being in my section.
I wanted to glare at Ruby and Theo – even though neither one could have known or planned the night's turn of events. What was there to be angry about? Ruby didn't know I constantly thought about Theo and Theo had no idea I worked at Slapshots, let alone knew that I only applied for a chance to see him again. And really? Was I angry because my supremely stupid idea actually worked?
The next thing I knew, I stood dumbfoundedly in front of the large booth with what appeared to be most of the hockey team. My breath hitched in my chest and I could feel the white-knuckled grip of the pencil I was holding. Theo sat at one of the edges of the booth, so I swiped my attention to the man at the other end.
"Do you know what you'd like to order?" I asked robotically. Mostly due to my tired voice, but also because I had no intention of showing him how his presence affected me. At least, not on the job.
"Yeah, four rounds of Sam Adams and four plates of buffalo wings, please," the man responded.
No longer needing my pencil and notepad for the group's orders, I released the tight hold I had over them and slipped them into my smock. "I'll need everybody's IDs, please."
The man I had spoken to was collecting his table's IDs, so I took the moment to watch Theo. He had already been keeping an eye on me, and had no qualms as I caught him. More than once tonight, my throat closed in response, somehow forgetting the mechanics of breathing with his one glance.
"Miss," the table's spokesperson said. The moment between Theo and I ended, and I grabbed the stack of licenses in the other man's hand. I swiped through each card, not caring to pay attention to the birth dates. I knew Theo was still staring and the knowledge of it was intoxicating.
"I'll be back with your drinks," I told the table and returned the licenses.
"Just water for me," Theo rasped. I only nodded in response, his voice momentarily taking mine away. I turned on my heel and headed straight for the bar.
Ruby was resting on her elbows on the bar top behind, amusement lighting her features. "Guess you were thrown in the deep end tonight." I nodded, still not trusting my voice. "Are they behaving themselves? Do you need me to run interference?"
"No!" I shouted. I twisted my head to see if Theo noticed, but he didn't. "No," I repeated. "I can do this."
She waggled her eyebrows and poked a tongue inside her cheek. "Your minuteman is there, isn't he?"
I ignored her question. "The table wants four pitchers of Sam Adams. Can you help me?"
"Fine. Don't tell me," she pouted. "But did you open a tab for the beer? That kind of order, Mick expects it."
I bit my lip in response, "I forgot."
"It's okay. Go back and grab a card, I'll get the pitchers ready. Did they want anything else?"
"Four plates of buffalo wings. Thanks, Ruby."
I made a beeline for the booth, and I had to stop laughing out loud at the comical faces of disappointment without beer or food on hand. "I'm sorry – I'll need a card to open a tab for the beer," I explained.
The spokesperson slid a debit card to me. "No worries," he smiled and reentered the conversation I had interrupted. Politely dismissed, I grabbed the card and snuck another look at Theo. Once again, he was staring at me unabashedly, not seeming to have a single care or thought to spend time with his team. And as much as I was thrilled at having his undivided attention, I couldn't give him the same courtesy.
Supremely stupid idea, Sloane, I mentally scowled at myself.
I hurried back to the bar, relieved to see the pitchers ready to carry. I gave the card to the bartender, making sure to reference the laminated table chart so he knew which card was for which table. Ready to ask Ruby if the wings were ready, one of the cooks yelled out "Buffalo wings! Four plates!" at the window. I made the mistake of grabbing the plates bare-handed and almost burned my hands in the process.
"Sloane," Ruby chastised softly. "Be careful. Here," she handed me a thick towel from her smock. "Use this to cover your hand."
I sent her a sheepish look. "My bad." I took her advice and this time, I safely pulled the plate from the window as she took the other. She followed me back to the booth and I didn't have to look behind me to know she was examining each face, trying to figure out which minuteman had my attention. Once all the items were deposited, I dashed back to the bar.
"Agustín!" The bartender stood to attention. "Can you get me a large glass of water?"
"You get it," he deflected.
I shook my head, worried I offended him. "I'm not allowed behind the bar. I'm sorry."
He smirked. "You are a baby," he teased. He did as I asked and despite the fuss he made, the annoyance in his voice left just as easily as it came. I hissed as my hand grasped the glass, surprised by the pain and only realizing a bit too late that maybe Ruby had a reason to chastise me the way she did.
Grimacing through the pain, I walked back to the booth, and this time I faced Theo head-on. "I promise I didn't forget about you," I told him.
His intense dark eyes held me still, and not for the first time tonight, I could feel the tiniest bit of regret about taking this job. If I had known it would have worked this well in seeing him again, I would've been a regular here without question. Now, upholding the responsibilities I agreed to for this job will keep me away from his company.
He crooked his finger, and I immediately stepped closer. He leaned on the table to speak to me directly. "You should probably bring pitchers of water for everyone, too. Just to be safe."
Engrossed by the way his mouth moved, I only nodded. He could have told me he had a purple cousin from Pluto, and I wouldn't have been fazed.
Raucous laughter busted from the table, and I sprang away from him. Jesus, how am I this enthralled with him?
"Come on, Stensen – lighten up!" One of his tablemates said. "Don't worry so much, have a drink with us!"
Theo lifted his glass in reply. "I am – with water."
I used that opportunity to escape his hold. I still had a job to do. I flagged down Agustín, taking Theo's suggestion seriously, and made a mental note to do the same with the other tables in my section that also ordered alcohol.
The night became routine at that point, rotating between each table in my section, but with a constant awareness of Theo's piercing gaze as he watched me dart around.
After my second wind with Theo's table, I could feel myself just about ready to crash once the last call bell rang in the bar. I felt the wad of cash deep inside my smock, still surprised I could feel the tips I made my first night as a server. The only table left was Theo's, and I had the unlucky task of kicking them out so the staff could begin locking up.
"I hope you all had a good night," I began with an amicable tone. Or at least, I hoped it was an amicable tone. "But that's last call. How would you all prefer the final bill be paid?"
"Rookie mistake," Ruby said in a low voice as she passed by. "If they want separate bills, don't come crying to me."
My eyes scrunched at the implication. That would suck.
"I've got it," Theo said. "Haku's got the drinks. I can pay for everything else."
I sent him a grateful smile. "I will be right back, then." Thank you, I mouthed to him.
Agustín had already closed out my table's tab and handed me back their card. "Lucky first night, kid," he told me. "Large group like that, you'll be making bank tonight."
"I don't think I care so long as I can finally get off my feet," I replied. Whatever nerves that plagued me earlier in the night were long gone, a type of bone-deep weariness making me temporarily abandon my usual reticence.
I stopped at the point-of-sale system next, going through the motions for entering Theo's food orders to come up with a receipt.
Most of the table had already left, leaving Haku and Theo waiting for me to close them out. "Come back again," I said, gingerly using the back of my hands to slide the corresponding sheet to each man.
The condensation from each cold drink order was a wonderful balm throughout the night, but it left my hands over-sensitized. Even pressing the buttons on the computer was a small agony.
Theo noticed the action, the same squint as the first night I met him surrounded his eyes, asking me what that was about.
I answered him aloud, "I'm fine."
"What?" Haku asked, sounding a little lost.
Theo kept glancing at my hands skeptically, not quite believing me. To his credit, I didn't believe me, either.
"You look dead on your feet, darlin'." Mick squeezed my shoulder lightly with a proud note coloring his voice. "Go on home. Good job tonight. I'll see ya tomorrow."
I didn't need to be told twice. "Thanks, Mick." Both Haku and Theo regarded me earnestly, as if my presence kept them fixed to the booth. "So…" I began, "closing time. Bye."
I scurried to the staff room, just a cordoned space in the kitchen, for my coat and hat (in other words, Theo's beanie). I said my goodbyes to the staff, much to their chagrin that thankfully didn't last long once I reminded them that I was, in fact, a rookie.
I used the back entrance instead of the front, partly because I didn't want to see if the hockey crowd lingered and partly because I didn't want to see Theo lost in that crowd. I got my wish: I saw him again. But seeing him again did not placate the overwhelming urge to just be with him. I felt silly that I went to such lengths to find a man I didn't know. Just today I found out his last name.
Lies. You found out when you googled him.
I shook my head, disagreeing with myself. No, I knew his last name began with an S, and before I went any further, I closed my tabs and cleared my browser history.
I rubbed my face, careful to use my arm instead of my still-pink palms, exhaustion coating every part of my body, and despite feeling like I just missed him again, I couldn't deny the joy of knowing he was following my every move.
"Sloane?" Dear lord, am I daydreaming… nightdreaming… hallucinating about him now? He released a humorless chuckle, pulling the beanie tighter around my head. "Still keeping this, huh?"
"It's warm," I said defensively. And it still smells like you.
"How long have you worked at Slapshots?" he asked.
"Just started today," I said innocently. Please don't ask why.
He squinted at me again, silently asking the question I didn't want to answer. So I kept my mouth shut.
He straightened slightly when he realized I wouldn't, so he tried something else. "Are you walking home?"
"Yes," I answered. Easier territory, easier answers.
Theo surveyed the area critically. "By yourself?" he asked in slight disbelief.
I squirmed when he pointed out what seemed glaringly obvious now, the fault in my plan. I hesitated a moment before answering, "Yes."
With the way he sighed, I imagined he suppressed the impulse to roll his eyes. "I'm taking you home."
I couldn't say for the life of me why I shook my head when all I wanted was transpiring before my eyes, but I told him, "You don't have to do that, Theo."
He pulled my coat, stumbling over my feet as he placed me firmly on the sidewalk. More pressure and heat travelled to my back and shoulders as he walked behind me to push me in the direction of my dorm. "I want to," he said simply. "Get moving. It's cold and I'm sure we're both done."
Blame it on the long shift, or that it was the middle of the night, but I asked, "Will you stay with me?"
He didn't even take a moment to think about it. "Yes."