A. Jackson - When We Met

I brushed my hands through his hair and smiled against his lips. “More than okay.”

“Indy,” he crooned, and cupped my cheeks. “Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?”

My head shook back and forth as I tried to find the right words to say, and finally I just locked my eyes with his and whispered, “Thank you for saving me.”

His body sagged in relief, and he kissed me soundly. “I’ll always save you.”

Courtney

“What can I get you?”

“How about something hot and spicy like you?”

“Really? That’s the best line you got?” I asked the guy who’d been hitting on me the last couple of nights. “I think I heard that one from a balding used car salesman back in high school when I waited tables at Denny’s.”

His friends, who’d been egging him on a few seconds ago, hooted with laughter. “Dude, I told you you’d be toast again,” one of them said, clapping him on the back.

Mr. Flirt didn’t seem to mind the razzing, shooting me a slow grin as he sat back in his seat. I bit back a snort. Guys were so typical. They gave you a little wink and a smile and somehow convinced themselves your panties would drop. I played the game, though, and gave him a coy smile in return. “Besides, you’re not ready for this kind of heat. I’ll bring you some volcano wings,” I added, bumping his shoulder with my hip. Just the mere suggestion that he had any kind of chance lifted his spirits once again as everyone at the table high-fived like they had just scored some sort of victory. It was all part of the waitressing game. Tease them just enough that they keep coming back for more, all in the name of good tips. It really wasn’t much of a hardship for me. I’d been waitressing since I was fifteen, so I was a pro at working the customer. Not that I didn’t deserve the tips I earned. I worked my ass off, always had. Even back in high school, my manager at Denny’s loved me because I never called in sick or missed a shift. At fifteen, I’d been more responsible than most of the employees he kept on staff.

Things were the same at Gruby’s, the loudest and busiest sports pub around campus. I’d only been working here for a couple of months, but my manager, Chris, pretty much gave me any hours I wanted. With money always so tight, if I wasn’t in class or sleeping, I tried to be here, squeezing in homework and studying during breaks. The holidays had basically wiped me out financially, so I’d been working nonstop since Christmas. For the past three weeks, the only time I’d seen my three roommates was to say a quick good-bye on my way out, or a tired good night when I got home. Lately, the house we all shared had become nothing more than a place for me to shower and then fall into bed.

I finished taking the guys’ orders around several more innuendos before walking away. I could feel their eyes all over my ass without turning around to look.

“How’s it going?” my best friend and fellow waitress, Amanda, asked, grabbing a bottle of ketchup from the servers’ station.

“Typical. They’re all God’s gift to women with heaven in their pants.”

“It’s jock syndrome. Don’t you just love basketball season? I swear this school acts like the sun rises and sets on their players’ asses.”

“It’s all about the money, babe. The university isn’t stupid.” Not that I didn’t agree with Amanda, one hundred percent.

“Preach it, sister.”

Amanda was putting on a show for my benefit. I knew from experience that she was all about the basketball team. She was one of those hard-core supporters who painted her cheeks for every game and cheered as loud as anyone when the games were televised on the big screens scattered throughout the restaurant.

“Who are you trying to kid? We all know you love the players in more ways than one,” I teased, wagging my eyebrows. I filled my drink order and placed the glasses on the round tray I was expertly balancing on my hip. “I bet you’re already scouting for your next recruit.”

She grinned. “Well, now that you mention it . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked over her shoulder.

“Come on. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“I’ll fill you in later. I need to deliver this check to table six before they have a fit.”

I shook my head, watching her walk away. Over the past year that we’d been friends, I’d watched her fall for at least half a dozen guys. She claimed dating someone taller than her was a must, which was why she always went for athletes, especially basketball players. I tried to put myself in her shoes, but I couldn’t see anything bad about being a long-legged five-foot-nine goddess. At five foot nothing, I was shorter than pretty much every guy on campus. Mom called me pixie cute, which was a nice way of saying I was short.

After delivering drinks to the flirty table, I headed over to greet another group that had been seated in my section. Within twenty minutes, the restaurant was packed as the dinner rush began. Amanda and I didn’t have another chance to talk other than to exchange notes on particularly difficult tables, especially those that felt the need to be touchy-feely. Ass grabbers were nothing new. Gruby’s was located on the outskirts of campus, so it attracted a combination of college students and local residents. Mainly middle-aged men sporting beer guts and receding hairlines believing they still had enough game to close a piece of college ass. That is, if they ever had any game in the first place. They were usually the best tippers, but the problem was you had to put up with a lot more shit, including “accidental” ass grazes or boob brushes. They were all the same. Most didn’t even try to hide their wedding rings. Of course, the waitstaff at Gruby’s had our own way of keeping them in line, like spilling drinks in their laps, or a plate of food in the crotch if they’d taken too many liberties with their hands. Thankfully it didn’t have to come to that very often. A little flirty banter was usually all it took to keep any guy in check, no matter how old he was.

Five hours into my shift and my feet were begging for a break. Today had been a long fourteen-hour marathon. An early cram session at the library had me out of the house earlier than normal, followed by art history class and then more studying before my final class of the day.

As the dinner crowd slowly trickled away, I stood out of view of the few remaining patrons and rolled my shoulders, trying to work out a kink in my neck. Feeling marginally better, I left the drink station to hand over the check to what would hopefully be my last customer of the night.

As luck would have it, Felicia, everyone’s least favorite hostess, squashed that thought as she walked by. “Hey, Court. I just sat another group at table twelve in your zone.” Like I needed her to tell me table twelve was in my zone. I had worked here long enough to know the layout of the dining area.

That was Felicia. She was a witch who had an annoying habit of telling everyone how to do their jobs. Worst of all was the way she would brag about how they used to do things at the last sports bar where she’d worked. After several not-so-subtle hints, Amanda had finally told her to go back to her last place if it was so fabulous because maybe she’d be happier there. Felicia missed the hint. She was on the verge of having her mouth taped closed, but thankfully we felt her days were numbered since she’d called in sick twice in two weeks. Chris had a low tolerance for employees who missed shifts. We were already planning the celebration party.

I straightened up and pasted a smile on my face to greet my new table.

“Welcome to Gruby’s. I’m Courtney, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Drafts are buy one, get one for another twenty minutes,” I parroted, finally looking at the occupants as I pulled my notepad from the pocket of my half apron. My eyes widened and my mouth went dry when I took in the group sitting at the table. Actually it was because of one person in particular. I knew there was a chance this day would come. I was just hoping to be better prepared for it.

Dalton Thompson, my first best friend and onetime crush, sat in front of me, flashing his signature grin that I knew all too well. It had been years since that grin was aimed in my direction, but it was forever burned in my brain. Not that I could forget it, considering where I went to school. That same cheeky smile could be found on banners splashed all over campus, along with local TV news stations and even the national sports channels. Dalton was the face of the university’s basketball team. After he’d won two state championships in high school, every big-time program in the country wanted Dalton, but he chose to stay home and play for Michigan. He was practically a legend to everyone in the local community, and one day in the not too distant future would be a top ten pick in the pros. To me, he was so much more. At least, he was at one time. When I decided to attend the same college as Dalton, I figured I was safe because the chances of us running into each other were pretty slim, and yet here we were.

Dalton

“I’ll take the Gruby’s burger, medium, and an extra order of fries.” I handed over the menu to Courtney Leighton, recognizing her right away even though I hadn’t seen her in years. We were best friends when we were kids. Then we drifted apart and it was like she became a ghost. We stopped talking and even though we went to the same schools, we never seemed to see each other.