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savannah

“You couldn’t wait for me?”

I bite into my perfectly cooked steak and grilled cheese, ignoring my brother’s judgmental scolding.

“I did wait,” I mumble around a mouthful of food. “You were just late.”

Leo shucks off his jacket and plops down in the booth across from me. “Damn, Mini. What are you preparing for? War? Chill out.”

He’s not wrong. I’m shoveling this food in my mouth like it’s my full-time job. To be fair, it is my favorite restaurant, but I’m probably famished from the way I Usain Bolted my ass out of class this morning.

“Where’s Dad?” he asks, looking around the diner.

“He texted me right before I was about to pick him up and said to go on without him.” I take a drink of my water, clearing my throat. “He said he was having a meeting with one of his players and their dad or something. I don’t know.” I shrug.

I love my dad but I’ve always made it a point to keep his business and my life separate. Once he starts talking about the team, I start tuning him out .

“Weird.” Leo reaches across the table, snatching a french fry off my plate just as the waitress comes to take his order.

He doesn’t need to look at the menu and she knows it. She just needs to confirm if he wants water or Coke with his lunch today.

Leo goes to a school three hours away from Linden Creek. Once a week, my dad and I meet him at Midway Diner, and once a week, he gets to flirt with the waitress.

“Did you start your class with Aunt Lo today?”

Ugh. For a moment there, I had forgotten that the class I was most excited about this semester had been tainted by Linden Creek’s golden boy.

It might be petty of me, but I am who I am, and I’m someone who wants nothing to do with Noah Kingston or his team.

I break off the end of a fry before nodding and popping it into my mouth.

“And?”

“It was fine.”

When he doesn’t respond, I look up at him and his dark eyebrows furrow the same way mine do. “What the hell is up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, normally you run your yapper nonstop at lunch, and now all of a sudden you’re Silent Susan over there.”

I push my plate away and slump back in the booth. Twenty years in this world together and I don’t know why I thought I could get anything past him.

“Okay— A, bite me. And B, I’m just not sure this class was a good choice.”

“You need it for your major though, right?”

“I guess… I just still don’t feel confident in that decision either.”

After wandering aimlessly my freshman year and the first half of my sophomore year, my aunt brought up sports journalism—again.

Actually, she brought it up semester after semester because that was always my plan, but I put it off knowing that the sports journalism course required you to either work or volunteer with one of the on-campus sports departments, and I didn’t want to feel expected to work with my dad’s team.

Call me stubborn, or too proud—fuck it, call me bull-headed, I don’t care.

I am all of those things, but the main reason I don’t want to work for my dad is because I want to know that I did it myself.

I want to know that I got the job not because of who my dad is or what he can get done for me.

Mark Alvarez would build a rocket ship with his bare hands, fly it to the moon, and pick me up a latte on his way back if I asked him to.

There isn’t anything on the face of this planet or the next that he wouldn't do for either Leo or me.

And so, after months of back and forth with my aunt, I finally decided to sign up for the course with the hopes that I could search for and apply to internships with some kind of secrecy.

Leo takes the dismissive hint and moves on. “What did you end up doing this weekend?”

Abort. Abort. This is not where I wanted to move the conversation to.

“I went to a party.”

“A frat party?” he asks, stealing another fry.

“A Lions hockey party.”

A slow smile spreads across his face before he tosses his head back, barking out a laugh. I might have been born two minutes after him, and he loves to remind me of that by calling me his mini-me, but I swear, maturity-wise, I’m a good handful of years ahead of him.

“Shut up.” I throw a broken piece of fried potato at him but the bastard catches it with ease.

“Oh, that’s good. How does Dad feel about you hanging out with his team?”

“He doesn’t feel anything because he doesn’t know. And I’m not hanging out with them, I wound up at one party. ”

The waitress brings Leo his food, and it’s amazing how quickly his smile turns from teasing to flirtatious.

“Mind your business, Leo,” I say, pointing a french fry at him.

He holds his hands up. “I’m not saying anything.”

My first shift at The Den is as exciting as kale.

I was told my first week I would be scheduled during the slowest shifts to give me time to ‘learn the ropes’.

The ropes have been learned, and I’m officially bored.

My coworker, Kelly, has been unintentionally playing a round of ‘Get to Know You’ games. Asking me things like, ‘What do you like to do on your off days?’ and ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ to which I responded, ‘Nothing’ and ‘no’.

It’s only day one, so she either thinks I’m shy or that I’m a bitch.

Either way, it’s probably best she doesn’t set her expectations too high for some epic friendship to blossom here. By no means do I go out of my way to be rude to people—most people, but I don’t work very hard to build relationships either.

I drum my hands on my knees to the beat of Love Yourself playing through the speakers and spin on my metal stool, looking over at my exception. The Bonnie to my Clyde, the popcorn to my movie, and the star to my moon. Chloe Addison Cooper.

Savannah Alvarez pro tip: if your best friend doesn’t make your dad question if you’re in a lesbian relationship, she’s not really your best friend.

Leo and I are close by nature, and nurture—aka our dad—made sure we stayed that way.

Chloe and I are close by choice. We’re complete opposites in most ways.

Where I might be described as dark and a little punchy, she would be described as bright and pure.

But, in the ways that count? Like unwavering loyalty and support for one another? We’re two peas in a pod, baby.

“Okay, half an hour till closing,” Kelly says, pulling off her apron and looking up at the clock. “You think you’ll be good to close up on your own?”

“I think I can manage.”

She smiles at my dry tone. “I know it’s kind of boring now, but honestly, the best part of working here is that both the hockey and football teams come in pretty much every day.”

“That’s unfortunate,” I mumble under my breath.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” I smile.

“Alright, I’ll see you same time tomorrow.

” She smiles at me and waves over to Chloe, who’s been sitting at her favorite table, working on her computer for the last two hours.

“Oh, before I forget, a bunch of us are going to party at Jonathan’s house this weekend.

He lives right off campus, and it’s an open invitation.You two should come. ”

My eyebrows shoot up and I worry my smile is coming off scary. Thankfully, Chloe’s is genuine when she says, “Ooh, sounds fun, thanks!”

Kelly smiles and pushes against the glass door, fighting the howling wind outside as she leaves. I wait until she’s out of sight before I round the counter and sit down across from Chloe.

“Sounds fun?” I ask.

“Well, what did you want me to say? ‘No, we hate parties and people, get fucked.’” She sticks her tongue out and holds up her two middle fingers and I snort a laugh.

“Besides, I had to say something. You were over there looking like you're at the gynecologist and she’s trying to distract you by asking if you watch Survivor while giving you a pap smear.” She mimics my pained expression and now I fold over, having a full-blown laughing fit.

“Have I thanked you yet for keeping me company tonight?”

“No problem, babe.” She closes her computer, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn, and her eyes study a post filled with flyers.

The last two girls that were studying together head out. I give them a wave, follow them to the door, and lock up behind them.

I turn around, ready to start closing down, and catch Chloe scribbling something onto the palm of her hand.

“Are you taking down the number of a sugar daddy over there?”

“You think people just advertise that kind of stuff all willy-nilly on a university campus?”

She comes back, sliding the paper into her wallet and gathers her computer from the table.

“What’s that for?” I nod to the secret paper.

“Tutoring.”

Aside from her Disney Princess beauty, Chloe also happens to be the smartest person I know. She’s like a triple threat with her beauty, brains, and brawn. Okay, maybe not the brawn part, but what she lacks in muscle, she makes up for with her heart of gold.

I cock my head at her.

“What?” she asks.

“You’re practically in Mensa. What are you doing looking for a tutor?”

“I’m not looking for a tutor, I’m looking for a job.”

I continue wiping down tables as Chloe follows me, putting the chairs up off of the floor. “How are you going to have time for a job between classes, writing your book, and all the volunteering you do? ”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to give me some tips once you get that internship.” She raises a brow at me.

I’m wiping down the table, mid-reach, and I drop my head between my shoulders with a groan.

“Have you heard back from anyone yet?” There’s a smile in her voice. Either my pain is humorous to her, or my dramatics are. Thankfully, I know my friend, and it’s the latter.

“Two,” I say. “But it’s the two I’m least excited about.”

“Do I dare to even try to guess?”

“The rugby team and the wrestling team.”

Chloe’s nose scrunches up. “Wrestling? Eww.”

“No, literally. I hate it.” I drop the chair onto the table a little harder than I mean to.

Technically, I have time before I need to either volunteer or have an internship with one of the university’s athletic departments.

I assumed by trying to get ahead of it, I could gain an advantage and avoid ending up in a position with a sport that I could really give a shit less about—just to fulfill a class requirement.

“Maybe the threat of having to work with the wrestling team will be enough to get you to change your mind and call your dad. Hanging around the Lions hockey team for a semester has got to be better than the wrestling team. Or at the very least, he can get you in with a better team.”

“Chlo—” I urge her not to continue.

“I know.” She puts her hands up in defense. “I just thought I’d put it out there.”

“Message received, thanks.”

I know she means well, but the situation is difficult enough.