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Chapter Fifteen

Sienna

I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing, the tone indicating it’s a FaceTime call. It’s Sunday afternoon, and I know exactly who it is.

My mother.

Groaning, I roll over and blindly reach for my phone, knocking it off my nightstand. The ringing stops. Blissful silence reigns. I close my eyes, eager to drift back off to sleep and do my best to forget the last twenty-four hours ever happened, when the ringing starts up again. She won’t stop until I pick up, and if I don’t, she’ll probably call Coop and ask him to come check on me. Make sure I’m alive.

No way do I want that to happen. How would I explain myself to my brother?

Oh hey, yeah. I’m devastated because I just had the best sex of my life with your best friend, and now he’s telling me I need to wait for him and ... no. Fuck that guy.

I don’t think Coop would understand.

“Shit.” I hang over the edge of my bed and pluck my phone off the floor; then I sit up and brush the hair out of my face before I answer. “Hey, Mom.”

“Sienna!” Her normal enthusiastic greeting shifts into motherly concern when she sees me. “Sweetheart. Are you all right?”

I can’t tell her what happened. I refuse to bring Gavin into the conversation with my mother for fear she’ll tell Coop and then shit will hit the fan and Coop will go after him. Give him a talking to or, worse, warn him away from me. Then Gavin will hate me forever, but I sort of hate him at the moment, so we’d at least be on equal terms.

Okay, I’m being completely dramatic, but Coop knowing about what happened between me and his bestie would definitely cause problems, and while I’m frustrated and angry with Gavin, I’m not about to ruin friendships. I’d rather remain quiet and keep the peace.

“I’m just tired.” I offer her a smile, but it feels forced and fake. I let it fall and yawn, covering my mouth with my hand. “Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

“You look like you’ve been crying.” She’s frowning at me, and I study her face, seeing much of my own reflected back at me. While Coop took after Dad, I definitely look like our mother, though she’s much shorter. But we’ve got red hair—hers is a little brighter—and matching brown eyes. If that’s what I’m going to look like in my late forties, I’m not too worried. Mom has still got it going on.

“I haven’t been crying,” I reassure her, lying through my teeth. I was crying in bed earlier, before I finally fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. This is what happens when you stay up all night getting thoroughly fucked by the love of your life. Also known as the biggest idiot in the world.

Who does he think he is, telling me to wait for him? To be patient? Haven’t I done that enough already? Doesn’t he get that I know how to handle myself around football players and that I understand the pressure they’re under? I feel like everything he said to me was some sort of secret code for I don’t want anyone to know about us.

And while I find that hurtful—is he embarrassed of me?—I also do get it. To an extent. Announcing a relationship with a man of his status is monumental and extremely public. Lots of questions will pop up, and I don’t think either of us is ready to answer them.

He should’ve approached it better, is what I’m saying.

“Are you sure?” My mama knows me too well, and so I smile again, trying to make it look as real as possible.

“I’m positive. What did you think of the game yesterday?”

“They played amazing. Oh, I wish we had been there to watch.” Mom shakes her head, her disappointment clear. They try their best to never miss a game and do pretty well, but this weekend they had plans. A couple they’ve known for years was celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and the party was last night. There was no way they couldn’t go, and while both my mom and dad stressed about it, Coop assured them it was fine. And he meant it too.

“It was a good game,” I agree.

“You went?”

“Of course,” I retort. “When do I ever not go?”

“You’re such a good sister, Sienna. Barb was asking about you last night.” Barb is the woman who had the party. “She wanted to know what your plans were once you graduated from college.”

Hmm. Something my parents haven’t asked me, yet good ol’ Aunt Barb—she asked us to call her that a long time ago—just did.

“I couldn’t answer her because I don’t know.” Her gaze is filled with sadness. “That made me feel like a bad mother.”

“Aw, Mom ...”

“No, don’t start defending me or whatever it is you wanted to say. I called you today because I wanted to apologize to you. And for your father. We get so caught up in your brother and everything he’s doing, we sometimes forget to check in on you.”

Her timing couldn’t be better. It’s like her mother’s intuition kicked in and she picked up on the vibes I was giving out last night when I complained about them to Gavin.

“Yeah, you do kind of forget about me sometimes.” It’s better to agree with her than deny it, because where will that get us?

“I’m sorry about that. I really am. And there’s no excuse for us doing that. Barb’s question has made me aware of our bad behavior. So tell me.” Mom sits up straighter, resting her arms on the dining table in front of her. She must have her phone sitting in one of those stands so she can remain hands-free. “What are your plans after you graduate?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

She frowns. “You don’t know what to do? Don’t have any plans? Any idea of what sort of industry you’d like to work in?”

No, no, and no is what I want to tell her, but that’s not entirely true. I have an idea ...

“I was thinking about starting my own business.”

Her entire face lights up. “Oh really? Doing what?”

It took a lot of bravery for me to confess my interest to Gavin last night, and I was thankful he didn’t laugh at me. Oh, he made the lactose-intolerance joke, but that was funny. He’s funny, and I love that about him. He was supportive and said all the right things. Even better, he sounded sincere. Like he really believes in me, and I don’t get that much. From anyone.

Too bad I’m still annoyed by our earlier conversation. I came home so preoccupied by it all, I never even took a shower. Just collapsed into bed and cried, grateful Destiny was over at her girlfriend Lizzie’s house.

Tucking my head into my shoulder, I can still smell him. On my shirt. My skin.

“Sienna?” Mom’s tone is questioning, and I realize I’ve taken too long to respond to her.

“Ummm, I was thinking an—ice cream stand. Or an ice cream truck where I can serve specialty ice creams? I’m not talking about the little white van with the ice cream man driving around the neighborhood. I’m thinking something cooler. Edgier.” Mom remains quiet for like two seconds, and I keep talking to fill the silence. “I know it sounds like a stupid idea, and it probably is, but I thought it might be fun—”

“It doesn’t sound stupid. Not at all,” Mom says, interrupting my defensive ramble. “I happen to love ice cream. Your father does too. Don’t you, Jerry?”

I hear my dad yell back at her. “What are you asking me, Joy?”

“You love ice cream, right?”

“Always have.” Mom switches the camera, and there’s my dad, sitting in his recliner. He waves at me. “Miss you, Sisi.”

“Miss you, too, Dad.” I wave at him, and Mom switches the camera back to her. I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. “You think it’s a good idea?”

“Sienna, honey, we’ll support you in whatever you want to do. You want to have an ice cream truck, I bet your dad will come down there and help you set it up. I bet he’ll even drive it around for you.”

“You gotta pay me in ice cream. That’s it,” he says, still yelling from his chair.

I smile, my heart swelling at their unwavering support. She didn’t even hesitate, immediately saying it was a good idea.

Why did I think people would hate on this again?

“I’m sure there’s a lot involved in this, and you’d probably need to take out a loan? We don’t have much money or else we could contribute, but whatever you need from us, honey, we’ll help you,” Mom says, Dad agreeing with her in the background. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

“I can’t stand the idea of working at an office every day,” I admit. “I like being outside. Doing my own thing.”

“You’d have to be disciplined with your work schedule. A self-motivator.”

“I can do that.” I hope I can.

“Have you looked into something like this at all? Done a little research? Like, how much a food truck might cost? You’d really only need a freezer in it and a fridge. You won’t need a stove or anything like that. I bet that would save you some money,” Mom says.

“You’re right. I’ve looked into prices some, but I kept stopping because I worried this entire plan was a dumb idea,” I say. “And I was really thinking only about a freezer cart.” I tell her about the boy I saw selling ice cream at the beach and how he inspired me. “A friend suggested a food truck.”

“That’s a smart friend. I think that’s a better way to go. I see all the food trucks that show up in the parking lot and on the street around the stadium,” Mom says. “That would be a great way to make money, with those big crowds that come for every game.”

We talk about other things. My classes. I tell her about my new friend, Everleigh, though she already knew about her since she lives with Coop.

“I’m glad you like her and you’re becoming friends.” Here comes that concerned-mom look on her face again. “I always worry about you. You don’t have enough of them, save for all the boys on the team.”

And there I go again, thinking about Gavin. I decide to change the subject.

“I need to go find a part-time job,” I tell her. “Now that I’ve got my schedule figured out and I’m settled in, I need to make some money.”

“You should go on the job hunt tomorrow,” she suggests. “Maybe you could work at an ice cream shop!”

“Maybe,” I hedge. I don’t know what I want to do, but I need to occupy my time so I don’t sit around and think about Gavin as much. What better way to handle that than go to work somewhere. “You’re right. I’ll go on the job hunt first thing in the morning.”

“That’s my girl. I’m sure you’ll find a job easily!”

I smile, grateful for her. For both my parents. They might not show it as much since the bulk of their attention is for my big brother, but at least they always support me in everything I want to do. Unlike some people’s parents—such as Gavin’s.

My anger has eased some, and I know we need to talk, but I need a little more time away from Gavin before I seek him out. I don’t want to blow up at him again. I need to keep a level head when we talk about us. Whatever us means.

Ugh. Men. They make me want to bang my head against the wall.

I get up bright and early Monday morning to go on my job hunt and decide a good place to start would be downtown Santa Mira. I’m sure there will be a few help wanted signs hanging in the business windows, but as I walk down the streets and even check the side streets, I find there isn’t much. Actually, I don’t really see any at all, which fills me with utter defeat.

That’s all on me. I’m late in my job-search adventure. I should’ve been doing this in August when I first moved back to Santa Mira, but I was feeling lazy and believed I could stretch out the grant money I received last quarter. Now that funds are drying up, I’m left with no choice.

I need to work.

Entering a cute clothing store, I wander around and look through the racks, sinking my teeth into my lower lip when I see the prices. This place is expensive. I don’t think I could afford shopping here even if I had a full-time job.

“Excuse me? Do you need some help? Looking for anything in particular today?”

I turn at the friendly-sounding voice, smiling at the woman who approached me. “I’m okay. Just looking.”

“Okay.” The woman nods. I’d guess she’s around my age, maybe a little older. “Let me know if you need anything.”

She’s walking away from me when I speak. “Actually, I do need something.”

“What can I do to help you?” She turns to face me with a wide smile, her expression open and welcoming.

“I was wondering if you’re ... hiring at the moment?” I wince. “It’s okay if you’re not. Just thought I’d ask.”

Her expression turns contemplative, and she taps her index finger against her pursed lips. “As a matter of fact, Myra is always looking for more sales associates. You want an application?”

Myra must be the owner or manager. I would love to get on Myra’s good side. “Yes, please.” I follow the sales associate to the counter where the cash register is, and she slips behind it, bending down to search the shelves before she pops back up, an application clutched in her hand.

“Here you go. I’d apply quickly if I were you. Someone stopped by earlier and turned in her application and résumé. She already spoke to Myra too.” She gives the application to me, and I take it, already defeated. “Tell her Jamie sent you. I’ll put in a good word. What’s your name?”

“Sienna.” I scan the application, mentally kicking myself for not printing out a couple of résumés before I left the apartment.

“Right. I knew it was you. You’re Coop’s sister, right.” Jamie grins. “It’s so good to meet you! I love the Dolphins football team. Do you know Gavin Maddox?”

My heart sinks to my toes at her question. Now I’m being recognized thanks to my affiliation with the team? Is that why she wants me to work here? “Yeah. I know him.” I was in his bed Saturday night is what I’m dying to tell her, but that would be rude. Plus, it’s none of her business.

“You’re so lucky! Oh my God, do you think he’d come into the store? Oh, do you think he’d invite me to the parties they have? I’ll tell Myra she has no choice. She has to hire you.” Her eyes are sparkling at all the possibilities.

And that is the last thing I want—being used for my connection to the Dolphins football team. No thank you.

“I’m not sure.” I hold up the application. “Thank you for this.”

“Come back after two. Myra should be here by then. I’ll let her know a Santa Mira celebrity wants to work here!” Jamie waves enthusiastically when I exit the store, and I wave back at her through the window as I pass by, rounding the building before I lean against it with a sigh, pressing the back of my head against the rough brick wall.

Well, that was a complete waste of time. No way am I going to apply there. While they’d probably hire me on the spot, they’d only do it thanks to my connection to Coop—and Gavin. Plus, they’ll also have certain expectations, and all of them will have to do with the team. And Jamie probably wants a shot at Gavin too. She’s pretty. Would he be interested in her? It doesn’t even matter that we had sex two nights ago. All my old insecurities come flooding back, and I shove them out of my brain, mad at Jamie and Myra and Gavin.

Definitely at Gavin.

I haven’t reached out to him, and he hasn’t reached out to me either. We’re both playing a dumb game, and if I keep this up, I’m definitely going to be the loser.

Yeah, taking this job would be a disaster. I’m not about to set myself up for failure. For pain and suffering. I want to work, but not that bad.

I go into a few more stores and ask for applications, but none of the people I spoke to could tell me if their place of employment was hiring or not. I end up at Back Yard Bowl, a locally owned smoothie-and-acai-bowl place, feeling down in the dumps as I order a berry bowl, ready to hand over my debit card to make my purchase when I spot the tiny sign taped on the back of the register.

Now hiring! Questions? Ask for Matty.

“You’re hiring?” I ask the cashier, who is a tiny thing I could probably squash like a bug. She looks terribly young too. Like maybe she’s still in high school or just graduated.

“We are.” She smiles and shifts the card reader closer to me. “Go ahead and tap.”

I do as she says and add a small tip because I’m feeling generous—and she did make me that bowl. “Can I ask you an honest question?”

She’s frowning. “Sure?”

“Do you like working here?”

Her frown fades and she’s smiling again. “Oh yeah. The hours are great. We’re currently only open until seven, even on weekends, and after Labor Day, we’ll reduce it to five. It can get pretty busy here in the morning and around lunch, but our manager always schedules enough people, and it never feels too stressful, you know?”

“How long have you worked here?” I’m glad there’s no one behind me in line, which gives me the time to ask these questions.

“A couple of months. I started in June right after I graduated from high school.”

Hmm, I was right. “Do you go to UC Santa Mira?” I ask.

She nods. “I just started, but I love it.”

“I’m a junior there,” I tell her. “And I really need a job.”

“You want to talk to Matty? He’s the manager.”

“He’s here?”

“He is. Go eat your bowl, and I’ll let him know you’re interested.” She adds a pile of napkins and a fork to my tray.

“Should I fill out an application?”

“Nah. He’s pretty informal. Just have a sparkling personality and a willingness to work pretty much anytime, and he’ll probably hire you on the spot.”

I actually salute her like a dork. “I can manage that.”

We both laugh, and I take the tray to an empty table, feeling lighter than I have in days. Maybe even weeks. Hopefully things are going to work out for me after all—at least job-wise.