“You got it, gorgeous.”
By the time we finish our conversation, two of my tables already left, including the table of freshmen. I pick up my tips from the first two tables, and clear the dirty dishes. Rhett follows behind me, helping me carry a few things into the kitchen without even being asked. “I’m not sharing my tips with you,” I joke.
“I don’t want your money. Plus, I’m the one who owes you.”
The third table is where the punks were sitting. They’ve left the exact change on the plastic tray, yet there’s a ten dollar bill on top. I turn to Rhett, handing him the ten dollars. “That was sweet, but I already knew they weren’t going to leave me a tip.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets, not accepting the money. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Rhett, don’t lie. This is your money.” Since he’s making no effort to take it, I reach around his back, and stuff it in his back pocket.
“Kinsley,” he calls out, as I walk away. “You can’t grope my ass and then leave.”
Laughing, but ignoring him, I stuff the crumpled bills the boys left into the slots of the cash register. Rhett comes up beside me and asks, “How’d you know?”
“Their money’s all scrunched up. That bill isn’t. Plus, they wouldn’t have counted out pennies if they were bothering to leave me a tip.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’re out money for serving me, since you picked up my bill, and now they stiffed you. You’re lucky to break even tonight at this rate.”
I don’t tell him Betty loaned me money for my car, and that I have a wad of cash in my pocket. Though he finds it for himself when he takes the ten out of his back pocket and shoves it in the front of my apron. “What’s that?”
“Money.”
He removes his hand, peeking inside at the wad of bills. “Do you always carry around that kind of cash?”
“No.” I have too much pride to tell him I’m broke, and that it’s not mine. I don’t even blame him when he stares at me, trying to figure out what I’m not saying.
“Is it yours?”
“No.”
“Did you take it?”
And this is where our differences are apparent. He doesn’t trust me, but I don’t trust him either. Maybe we’re even.
INSTEAD OF EXPLAINING where the money came from, I ran into the kitchen to hide. It probably only makes me look even guiltier than I already do, but how was I supposed to explain to Rhett that I accepted money after turning his away? I looked like a hypocrite—and I knew it.
Rhett didn’t bother to chase me, either, not that he was allowed in the kitchen. Though after the long speech he made not even a half hour ago, I’m disappointed he didn’t. For a guy who wants a chance so badly, who had to bide his time, waiting for the perfect moment to come for me, he gave up pretty easily.
Betty drops a stack of dirty plates onto the sink counter next to me, groaning from the strain on her arms. “Did the boy leave?”
“I don’t know. He thought I ripped you off. He’s probably home by now.”
With her hands on her hips, she narrows her eyes. “I have half a mind to go set him straight. You are my best employee,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief. “You go on home. You’re done here for the night.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to stay and finish these dishes for you?”
“Positive.”
I dry my hands on my apron and lean down to give Betty a hug. I’ll never forget what she did for me tonight. How she’s made my life a little bit easier without even thinking twice about it. I’ve been let down so many times, it makes moments like these that much more meaningful.
Punching my time card in the machine that dates back to the stone age, I stare at my reflection in the mirror that’s been hanging in the hallway just as long. The florescent lighting gives my normally dark hair an auburn glow. A few strands escaped my ponytail, and I have a noticeable stain on the front of my polo from some ketchup. Who knows what Rhett ever saw in me in the first place—I’m a mess.
Even I know it’s too late and way too dark to be walking the entire way home all alone, so I do the only thing I can think of—I find Carson’s name in my list of contacts. The pang of disappointment that hits me, is surprising. I didn’t realize how much I was looking forward to spending a little extra time with Rhett.
“What are you doing?”
My body jerks from the unexpected voice, and my phone falls to the dirty floor of the vestibule, spinning in a circle until it stops next to Rhett’s foot. He leans down to pick it up and hand it back to me, but not before taking a look at the screen. “Why are you calling Carson?”
“I thought you left.”
His cocks his head to the side, appearing genuinely confused. “Why would I leave? I’m taking you home.”
“I figured after you accused me of being a thief, you took off.”
“Kinsley, I’m sorry. It was a dick thing to say. If I could take it back, I would.”
“You can’t, but thank you for apologizing.”
He moves closer to where I’m standing, bending to look me in the eye. “Fair warning, there’s a chance I’m going to do a lot of other stupid shit—even if I don’t intend to.”
“I can’t wait,” I joke. But this time my smile peers though my earlier anger. He may have jumped to conclusions that weren’t fair, but I can see he’s sorry and that he knows he messed up.
“Now that we got that out of the way, can I take you home?”
“Yes, I’m tired. This day’s had more drama than I’m used to.”
“Come on.” We walk side by side down the stairs and into the almost deserted parking lot. His hand brushes mine, but instead of adding some distance between us, he clasps my hand in his, lacing our fingers together. I stare at our joined hands because even something as simple as holding hands is a first for me.
“Is this okay?” he questions, obviously worried he overstepped a boundary.
I nod my head, afraid of what I’ll see when I look at him—so I don’t. “Yes,” I whisper.
He points to his truck with his free hand. “I’m over there.”
Rumor has it, the brand new Ford F-150 was a gift from his grandparents. Some kids get graduation gifts, while Rhett gets one for simply starting a new school year.
“You can ask. Everyone else has.”
I scrunch my nose up, confused about what I’m supposed to be asking. “About?”
“The truck. It’s been the topic of conversation at practice the entire week.”
“It’s really nice.”
“I know, but I didn’t ask for it,” he insists. I’m not sure why it’s so important for me to know that, but clearly he wants to discuss it before we get inside.
“Rhett, it doesn’t matter to me what you drive. Things don’t matter to me—probably because I don’t have many. So, I don’t care if your truck came from Peyton Manning or your family. It’s yours and it’s awesome. That’s all that matters.”
A smile breaks out over his previously worried face. “You know who Peyton Manning is?”
I chuckle, “That’s all you heard me say?”
“No, I heard every word you said, but it’s hot when you start tossing quarterbacks into the conversation.”
“Then you’ll be happy to know, I like sports. I know who Peyton is—you’d have to live in oblivion not to. He’s a fourteen time pro-bowler. That’s huge.”
Rhett’s eyes widen when I break out the statistics. He forgets I have an older brother who is also obsessed with football. With only one TV in the apartment, I had no choice but to watch a lot of football games. “Shit, Kinsley. I’m think I’m in love. I mean, I already knew I liked you, but damn. You just rocked my world.”
“You’re crazy.”
“What’s crazy about that?”
“All of it.” I take the key fob out of his hands to unlock the doors. When I reach for the handle, he finally snaps out of the daze I put him in.