Page 13

12

Liam

I flicked off the lights, turned off the open sign, then locked the door behind me, ready to call it a night. I was exhausted. The past few weeks had gotten increasingly busy, to the point that I’d needed to hire even more staff. Now, along with Aubrey taking weekends and evenings, plus Rod on afternoons, I’d also started training Sundar on managerial tasks.

Sundar had recently moved here from Chicago and had tons of experience as a supervisor in a big café chain. I had a good feeling about him. He was calm under pressure, and he was definitely picking up the work like he was born to it. It was a big risk to hire a manager, but I couldn’t possibly work open to close seven days a week. What if I got sick? It was going to happen sooner or later, and I would hate to lock my doors because I didn’t have someone to cover the shifts.

The sky had turned a gorgeous rose-gold color, and I glanced at Crave as I walked down to where I’d parked. The interior was dark, but it still made my insides churn in a dangerous way.

I gnawed on my lip, thoughts stormy. I had no idea what to do about Jared. Didn’t even know how I felt about him, honestly, or how he felt about me. I’d told him the sex was a one-time deal, and he’d agreed. So far, we’d kept our word, and I should’ve felt relieved about that, but… the sensation in my stomach felt an awful lot like disappointment. Maybe even regret that he hadn’t even tried for another round. I’d be amenable to discussing terms for a mutually beneficial casual-sex arrangement.

And though I hadn’t seen him, the pranks, of course, had continued—also as we’d agreed upon.

Nothing dangerous, of course. First, Jared had greased the handle of Grounded’s front door in the morning before we opened, so that when I tried to open it, my hand had slipped right off. It was a beginner prank, but it had made me smile all the same. After a little bit of soap and water, I’d started to put some real thought into the retaliation.

I’d gone around to local thrift shops, selecting all the creepiest, most haunted dolls I could find. The ones in faded dresses with hand-painted porcelain faces and blinking eyes, the ones giving off that spine-tingling chill. And then over the next week, I’d periodically snuck in during Jared’s shifts and left them where I knew he would find them. I had a good imagination, so the mere thought of his reaction made me giggle.

Yesterday morning, I’d shown up to Grounded to find the entire window covered in colorful post-it notes, arranged in such a way that it portrayed a sandy beach, blue sky, and a palm tree. I’d stood there gaping at it for a couple minutes, blown away by how much time this must’ve taken him. Honestly, it had been quite pretty, and if my plants didn’t need the sunshine, I probably would’ve left it. Instead, I took pictures before I pulled them down.

Regardless of how lovely his prank had been, I wasn’t about to let it slide without some payback. So, in return, I’d had people going into Crave all day pretending they knew him, whether it was a long-lost friend from high school, a cousin he wouldn’t be able to remember, and then the pièce de résistance, an ex-lover who made a public scene, begging Jared to take him back. I wished I could’ve been there to see it.

I wasn’t sure at what point we would call it even, but I didn’t want it to stop. The anticipation as I waited to see what he would come up with next made me feel more alive than I could ever remember. He lit me up inside! Even as tired as I was, I was disappointed the day was over, and I couldn’t wait to come back in the morning to see how he’d get his revenge.

My apartment felt as close to home as I could make it. All my clothes were folded and put away, kitchen utensils in their appropriate drawers, artwork hanging on the walls, but I couldn’t get past the feeling that something was missing. Or maybe some one … It was too quiet, too empty even when full of stuff. It would feel a lot more like a home if there was someone to greet me at the door. For a brief moment, I thought about getting myself a pet. Jared had a dog, though I never got the chance to ask what their name was. Maybe I could manage a cat… But I was already brushing off the idea, because most dogs didn’t like cats. I pointedly ignored my logic.

The fridge was stocked with ingredients, in that optimistic way I always had of planning to cook, though I usually didn’t have the energy to do it, so when I dragged my ass in the door, I settled for a bowl of cereal and ate it on the couch, mindless reality TV on in the background.

After my dinner of champions, I put my feet up on the coffee table and opened my laptop across my stretched legs. I’d been falling behind in checking my email, since most nights I was too tired to do much more than scarf down some food before passing out, and I groaned when I saw the sheer volume of unread mail waiting for me. As soon as Sundar took over some tasks, I would make sure to do this on the daily. This was going to take me at least an hour to weed through all the junk.

My eyes snagged on an email right at the top, though, marked as important.

I didn’t recognize the email address, but the subject heading read “Congratulations! Grounded has been selected” and the first line showed as “I’m so pleased to inform you that Grounded has been voted best new…” My breath caught in my throat, coming out like a wheeze. Best new… what ?!

I couldn’t click on it fast enough. My heart was racing, adrenaline waking me up in a way caffeine would never be able to beat. I read through the email, then read it a second time just to be sure. Grounded had won an award for best new business by a local restaurant guide! This was huge ! It would put me on the map, bring in new customers. I’d just gone from cautiously optimistic about my business to wildly confident. I could already see this snowballing, months or years in the future. If I did well enough, I could expand, open a second location.

Trying not to get ahead of myself, I took a long, slow breath, but it did nothing to settle my jittery nerves. So, I did what I’d always done. I called my dad.

Pacing around the open apartment, from living room to kitchen and back again, I read him the email, gushing about how huge this was.

“Oh, Son, I’m so excited for you,” he praised. “You had a dream, and you chased the hell out of it. Your pops would be so proud.”

I wiped tears from my cheeks. “Thanks, Dad.”

We hadn’t a chance to catch up much over the past few weeks, so we chatted for a bit, but I kept all my chitchat superficial. I hadn’t told my dad about Jared and our little rivalry, not just because he wouldn’t understand, but because I didn’t want him getting his hopes up, thinking this was like some schoolyard crush.

Even if it kinda felt like it was…

“Now what?” Dad asked. “Do you get a plaque or a certificate to hang on your wall or something?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Even though I’d read the email a dozen times already, I went back to it.

At the end of the email, it said, “I’m so thrilled for you and your new business. Please reach out to me when you have a chance so I can answer any questions you might have.” There was a phone number for the editor of the magazine, someone name Amanda Flushing. I knew I should wait to call her tomorrow, but I was still buzzing with energy. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep at this rate, and it wasn’t that late, I told myself. Not even 8pm yet. If she didn’t answer the phone, I would try again tomorrow.

“Hey, Dad, call I call you back later?”

“Of course. I love you, Liam.”

We signed off, and I immediately dialed the number on the email, then held the ringing phone to my ear, knee bouncing.

“Hello?” a familiar voice said when the call connected, and the eager reply I’d had prepared got lost somewhere between my brain and my mouth. Because that voice was obviously not Amanda Flushing, editor of Delish Dish Magazine.

“Jared?” I asked dumbly.

His chuckle was warm, but I was left feeling a definite chill. “Hey, Liam. I was wondering when you’d call. I guess you got my email.”

“Your—” My brain scrambled to make sense of what he was saying. His email? Bile crept up my throat, sour and burning. I swallowed again and again. “I didn’t win an award, did I?” I asked, deadpan.

“Nope, but it sounds like I had you going for a minute. ”

My eyes stung with tears, but I refused to let them fall. Not yet. “Yep, you sure got me,” I forced myself to say, but my voice sounded flat to my ears.

“Can’t wait to see what you come up with next,” he said before hanging up.

The hand holding my phone lowered to my lap. I was half numb. I told myself that it was a harmless prank, just like the others. That I shouldn’t be disappointed about not winning an award that wasn’t real, that I hadn’t even known about an hour ago. But try telling that to my poor broken heart.

I grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and curled up with some reality TV. Maybe it would feel better if I could watch somebody else’s drama.

But one thought lingered in my brain.

I don’t want to play this game anymore.

SCREW SCHUSTER AND THE HORSE HE RODE IN ON

BottomsUp: I take back every nice thing I ever said about him. Did you guys see the leaked behind-the-scenes footage? That shithead! I think we can all agree, no omega needs Schuster’s BS.

Dripdrip69: screw that alphahole they deserve better

RimJobbins: Never thought I would find myself agreeing with you guys, but yeah. The shit he was saying about the omegas, not cool. Can they evict him instead? And then when Clark kissed Marty, I was dunzo. Talk about hawwwwt! *fire emoji*

BananaSunday: But the show is literally called Lonely Alpha. There’s no show without the alpha. He needs to pick a winner .

BJz4days: emphasis on the lonely. Schuster can suck it. I hope whoever he chooses turns him down.

MuffinTop: I can’t get over what Clark said to Marty, professing his hidden feelings like that! I wish I could be bold like him. I’m still at the tease him and pull his hair stage. I don’t have a clue how to talk to the guy I like. He probably thinks I hate him.

BottomsUp: Enemies to lovers is the hottest trope. Have you been a bad boy? I’d pay to get a peek of that action.

CreamyJoe: Sometimes enemies are just enemies, BottomsUp. And quit your teasing, Muffin. You’re not in kindergarten anymore. Nobody thinks teasing is hot in real life. If you like a guy, just tell him how you feel! Personally, I much prefer flowers over heartache, and I imagine he does too.