But when I climbed into bed my mind still spun. The whole night had been bathed in an odd tone, and it wasn’t because of the guy I fought. I did that kind of thing all the time, sometimes as much as twice a week.
It was because of her. I knew it. The first girl I could ever remember to reject me. Even in high school, when I was an introvert who only cared about studying and getting the fuck out of Nowhere, South Carolina, girls were still interested in me.
But something changed. I met the first female to challenge me. Riley’s rejection did something to me that I didn’t understand. It turned me inside out and taunted me, compelled me not to give up.
And I wouldn’t. I knew that without a doubt.
CHAPTER FIVE
Riley
My alarm clock was more like a jackhammer going off right next to my head. Eager to quell it, I quickly reached over and grabbed my phone. The snooze button taunted me, daring me to hit it and enjoy fifteen more minutes of heaven. I resisted the urge, killed the alarm, and clambered out of bed. My feet got tangled up in a pair of pants I left on the floor, and I almost bit the dust but managed to right myself and keep persevering.
The shower did a decent job of waking me up, and by the time I had half a cup of coffee, I could at least remember what it felt like to be alive. Ann-Marie still slept in, the lucky bitch. Unlike me, she had a schedule that somewhat resembled normalcy. She worked Monday through Friday as a receptionist at a nonprofit in Manhattan. Like me, she was living a life that slightly enraged her parents. She was working on the next great American novel. Or at least that was what I called it. She was more humble about it, always saying, “No young adult book will ever put Steinbeck out of style.”
I dressed in my Crumbs uniform of black pants and a dark blue button up and forced myself out of the apartment and down the stairs. Last night was still with me, except now in the form of a headache. It wouldn’t be an easy day. After my shift at Crumbs, I had to be at my cocktail waitressing job at three. The bar didn’t open till four that day, but since I opened, I needed to get there early.
At least that meant I’d be home before midnight. Some days, it really was the little things.
To keep myself awake, I jammed out to Beyoncé on the train ride. The bakery was already hopping by the time I got there, the line stretching all the way to the door. I clocked in and joined the rest of the front counter staff. Orders flew at me as I bagged rolls and croissants and tried to remember to keep my eyes open. As the hours passed, an aching in my feet joined the one in my head. I watched the clock, eager for my lunch break. At eleven forty-five, I darted into the back room and grabbed my purse. There was just enough time to run to the deli across the street and wolf down a sandwich. After that, it was back to the counter with a bad case of heartburn.
“Riley.”
The voice came from Dan, who hovered in the doorway to the bakery. Behind him, our pastry chef, Dominique, gave instructions to one of the bakers rolling out the dough.
I plastered a smile on my face. Dan, the front house manager, wasn’t one of the staff’s favorites, but I tried to be nice around him. I wasn’t here for minimum wage and the day’s leftover French rolls. I wanted to climb the rungs and hopefully be promoted to working in the back. Since I technically didn’t have any education or official experience in baking, that meant I had to wait until someone deemed me worthy enough to take under their wing.
I was pretty sure Dominique still didn’t know I was alive, so for the time being, getting ahead meant pleasing Dan. A lot of the hiring in the bakery happened in-house. People were getting promoted and switched to the other departments all the time. If I was nice and worked hard, I knew I’d get my chance sooner or later.
Dan scratched his chin. “Kelsey called out late. Can you work till Blake comes in?”
“What time is that?”
“Four.”
My heart sank. “I have to be at my other job at three. I’m sorry.”
“You can’t get off?”
I hesitated. I probably could get the night off. It was Saturday, which meant it was the real money making night. Most of the other waitresses would be more than happy to take my shift.
But I also needed it. Crumbs didn’t pay my bills. Wearing a tight dress and serving cocktails to businessmen did. On the other hand, I needed to make some real progress in my chosen career. The month before, Dan recommended one of the cashiers to help Dominique out in the kitchen. That could have been me. It could still be me.
“I can do it,” I blurted out. “I’ll find someone to cover my shift. I’m sure it won’t be that hard.”
“Good girl,” he said like he wasn’t at all surprised I was bending over backwards for him.
He left for the front, and I rushed out to order my meatball sub. While it was being made, I dialed Kim, one of the waitresses who worked a couple days a week. I got lucky with the call. She was available and eager to work. As I hung up my phone, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad. I could easily be giving up two hundred dollars by letting my shift go. That was money I could use to put toward my family’s vacation to Ireland next summer. Or money I could use to buy myself a new pair of nice work sneakers.
I reminded myself what I was doing it all for and got back to the bakery. The afternoon proved to be just as busy as the morning. While I worked, I visualized the long-term goal. I saw my own bakery, a beautiful corner one in Greenwich Village. Or maybe Williamsburg. I wasn’t too picky. By the time four o’clock rolled around, the imagined place seemed real to me. I could see the yellow and blue pansies in the windowsill and smell the cinnamon rolls rising. I was aching, tired, and broke, but I no longer regretted my decision to stay at Crumbs.
Blake was late, and I ended up staying till five. Unfortunately, Dan wasn’t there to see it since he left a little after his own lunch break. I reminded myself that he’d see I put in extra time when he came in the next morning and checked the computer’s log. Untying my apron, I stepped away from the cash register so Blake could take my place.
“Excuse me, what’s your specialty?” a male voice asked from behind me.
As of thirty seconds before, I was off the clock. I almost let one of my coworkers answer, but something about the voice drew me in. It was eerily familiar. Turning around, I came face-to-face with none other than Xavier.
His deep gray eyes drew all the air out of my lungs. For a second I couldn’t breathe or think. Standing in front of me was a man I thought I would never see again, whether I liked it or not.
When I did speak, the answer wasn’t the witty comeback he was probably looking for. “Our chocolate croissants. They’re really big, and they have a ton of, uh, chocolate...”
Heat flooded my cheeks. I sounded like such an idiot.
“Chocolate is good,” Xavier agreed from across the counter. He looked at the apron in my hands. “Are you taking a break?”