Breaking Masks
By Josh Aterovis and Dabeagle
Chapter 4 - Kody
In some ways my first week away at college was a lot like being at home. Classes hadn't started yet, so I mostly just worked at my newly acquired job and goofed off with Nick. I’d spent enough time in a coffee shop that picking up things at The Morning Rush wasn’t that difficult.
Max said the first week would be training, but in reality, that had lasted all of a shift and a half, and mostly consisted of learning where to find things. While twice the size of the one I was used to back home, the espresso machine worked exactly the same, and a coffee pot is a coffee pot, you know? I can’t say I was a fan of working open, which Max had declared was my permanent shift until I was told otherwise, but honestly, it worked out, since I didn't have many morning classes.
The downside was the fact that morning shifts meant you were meeting most people before they had their daily caffeine fix. Every morning, the bureaucratic shit-heads who worked up at the Alfred E. Smith State Office Building showed up in droves, all of them wearing weirdly identical uniforms of lame, ill-fitting suits and conservative twill skirts and complaining loudly. I suspected they hated their lives and processed that by bitching at whoever was behind the counter.
The thing is, no one is nice in the morning unless they're on medication or are mentally ill — like so-called “morning people” — so why in God's name did I pick a place to work where I'd not only have to be relatively cheerful at the crack of dawn, but maintain that mask while serving a seemingly endless supply of grumpy people? I was clearly a glutton for punishment.
Still, we quickly fell into a rhythm. Max and I had hit it off right away and had already established a joking, teasing relationship. In a way, she reminded me of several of the girls I’d been sort-of friends with back home. They'd treated me more or less like a kid brother, given I was on the short side, and Max wasn't much different. She certainly wasn't the kind of manager to stand on formality.
As for my coworkers, I liked Marla quite a bit and tolerated the only other employee, Mike. He was thick and pale, with limp mousy brown hair and a perpetually bored expression. He had the personality of a moldy dish towel, but Max seemed fond of him for some unknown reason that I'm sure had nothing to do with the large, swinging appendage easily visible in the gray sweatpants he favored. Mike, for his part, seemed oblivious to Max's blatant — and often inappropriate — flirting, which was probably for the best, considering we didn't have an HR department.
By nine o'clock on Thursday, I was starting to really feel like part of the team. The morning rush was just about over, which meant things would slow down until shortly before noon. A few people would set up camp at a table and work on their tablets or laptops, but things were about to get pretty quiet.
Marla was waiting on a straggler while Mike and I cleaned up behind the counter when Max came bustling through the door.
“Oh my God. I am so tired,” she moaned.
In just a few short days, I had learned that Max was always tired, whether it was first thing in the morning or the middle of her day off.
“Morning, sunshine,” Marla greeted her with a wink in my direction.
“Did you make any hot chocolate?” Max asked as she slumped dramatically across the counter, ignoring the customer at the register, who eyed her nervously.
“Yes, Max,” Marla replied, and I snorted. The fact that the manager of a coffee shop didn't drink coffee was still endlessly funny to me.
“Don't start with me, Short Round,” she grumbled as she moved behind the counter. “It's too early.”
“It's almost time for me to get off,” I reminded her. I worked six to ten most mornings, five days a week. It was only twenty hours, but I figured that was about all I'd be able to handle once classes started.
“No shit, Sherlock. Why do you think I'm here at this time of day? Oh, did you make me a copy of your schedule?” She turned from me to accept a cup of hot chocolate from Marla. “Thanks.”
“Right here.” I pulled the folded paper from my back pocket and handed it to her.
“Good. You'd have been in so much trouble if you forgot.” She grinned and walked away to the small office in the back.
Mike and I finished wiping down tables and refilling depleted supplies while Marla waited on a few more mid-morning customers. At ten, I hung up my little red apron, tucked my shirt in, and waved to the rest of the crew before heading back to campus.
I'd been told that New York was humid in September, but there was a nice breeze going, and it actually wasn't too bad. I strolled up Central Avenue, past a couple of bars that were closed and a couple of shops just opening up. Traffic was heavy, and city buses groaned by. The sidewalks were filled with people bustling to and fro, since we were so close to the state government buildings.
All in all, I liked Albany so far. I felt like I was settling in nicely.
Nick was playing a video game on his laptop using the TV as a monitor when I got back to our room.
“Oh, hey!” he greeted me. “I keep meaning to ask you — do you game?”
“Oh, um, yeah,” I replied, purposefully downplaying my enthusiasm for video games of any kind. “You could say that.”
I practically needed a twelve-step program, but that would have required admitting I had a problem, which I staunchly denied. I was partial to arcade games, but I wasn't a snob about it. I also loved a good adventure game, an RPG, or an MMORPG. Basically, if I could lose myself in a fantasy world, hunt for relics, or kill some aliens, I was in.
“Cool. Let me show you this game I've been playing recently.”
I was about to sit down next to him on the couch when my phone buzzed.
Charlie. A smile crossed my face. I missed the little asshole.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Please tell me you've made it with your roommate by now,” he jumped right in without preamble. “It's been almost an entire week. How big is his dick? Is he good in bed?”
Maybe I didn't miss him that much after all.
“Hey, Nick,” I said out loud. “Charlie wants to know how big your dick is and if you're good in bed.”
“Tell him he's too young and innocent to know,” Nick said with a laugh.
“Yeah, right. So no sexy times?” my brother clarified.
“No, Charlie. No sexy times.”
Nick chortled.
“Sounds like you made a friend, though,” Charlie continued, undeterred. Nothing kept him down for long, a trait I admired.
“Speaking of good in bed, tell him about that smoking hot guy we saw,” Nick suggested loud enough for Charlie to hear.
“What happened to him being too innocent for thoughts like that?” I retorted.
“What hot guy?” Charlie demanded. “What's he look like? Did you get a picture?”
“No, Charlie, I didn't take a picture of a complete stranger like a creep.”
“Oh, we should have. That would have been a keeper,” Nick inserted. “You could bounce quarters off his ass.”
Charlie burst out laughing in my ear. “I heard that. Tell Nick to add me on Snap. I have to go. Dad is yelling for me to hurry up so we can go get school supplies, assuming they didn't spend all their money on your college presents. Tell me about this hot guy later. See ya, brah.”
I hung up and turned my attention to Nick. “Don't encourage him. He's bad enough as it is.”
“He cracks me up.”
“That's because he's not your brother. Anyway, so what's this game?”
The game turned out to be a new open-world fantasy game, complete with dense lore and an irresistible mystery. He started to show me all the details of the gameplay, and within minutes I had broken out my laptop and signed up to play.
Soon, we were questing side by side. I could totally see the game eating up all my free time if I wasn't careful...and most of my not free time as well.
We played until dinner and barely made it to the Commons before they stopped serving.
When we got back to the dorm, Nick wanted to play some more, but I begged off to watch TV in my room. The little nineteen-inch TV was the one thing I wished I'd upgraded while Dad was here. I'd tried to leave it at home, but Charlie had packed it in the car at the last minute, probably so he could get a newer, bigger screen for himself, the little turd.
After about an hour, I got a craving for a coffee. I asked Nick if he wanted to go, but he couldn't tear himself away from the game. Instead, he gave me a couple of bucks to bring him back one too, since he was planning on staying up late playing.
As I approached the coffee shop, I stopped in my tracks. There, framed perfectly in the big front window was the Golden Boy. The warm lighting in the store made him look positively cinematic. My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment I imagined myself pulling a Charlie and going in, walking right up to him, and introducing myself.
“Hi, I'm Kody,” I'd say, “and you're the most beautiful guy I've ever seen.”
And he'd laugh in a charmingly self-deprecating way and say, “No, I think you already have that title.”
Which would just be silly, but very sweet.
And then he'd ask if I wanted to sit with him, which, of course, I did. And he'd insist on getting my coffee because he's not just a pretty face — he's also a gallant gentleman, naturally.
My runaway fantasy was cut short when I suddenly realized that he was with someone. A girl. A very pretty, very busty girl. Who was busy throwing herself at him.
I sighed internally.
Of course he was with a girl. She was probably his girlfriend...or one of them anyway. He was so hot he probably had one on every floor of every dorm. She'd be screaming his name later, I was sure, the lucky bitch.
A familiar bitterness welled up in me. Another crush on a straight boy. Way to go, Kody. When would I ever learn? I'd almost forgotten about him during the week, focusing on work and settling in, but some small part of me had remained fixated on the gorgeous Golden Boy.
Correction, the gorgeous straight Golden Boy.
My craving was gone. Instead, I felt a little queasy. I would have bailed, but Nick had given me money. I entered the shop quietly, though I didn’t have to worry about being seen. The girl was coming on strong, talking nonstop while waving her hands about theatrically, though the Golden Boy seemed focused on his coffee.
Probably playing hard to get. I bet he got offers for girls to ride his dick all the time.
I was happy to see Mike behind the counter. I could count on him to be practically nonverbal. I got Nick’s coffee and got out before I felt any worse.
I thought about the Golden Boy as I walked back. Why did I keep running into him? What kind of cruel game was the universe playing? I felt like a starving dog teased with a bone I'd never get. A big, throbbing bone...
A bone that was going to be buried deep in that stupid bimbo. Ugh, I hated my brain. I didn't need that mental image.
I hoped he wouldn't start coming in for coffee. I hadn't seen him in the mornings so far, but it would just be the most exquisite torture if he suddenly started hanging around all the time.
Oh God. What if we had to interact? What if I was forced to have a conversation with him? What if his fingers brushed across my palm? What if we made good use of that giant bag of lube Charlie had given me and we made sweet, sweet love right on the counter?
I quickly pushed those thoughts from my mind. It was growing increasingly hard to walk. I picked up my pace. I needed a distraction, and I needed it fast.
Back in our suite, I handed Nick his coffee, though he was so engrossed he didn't even look up when he mumbled a thanks, then grabbed my laptop and plopped down next to him.
“I thought you didn't feel like playing anymore tonight,” he said, glancing over.
“Changed my mind.”
“Cool. Let's quest, bitch.”
I tried to focus on the game, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the Golden Boy. I hated it when I got like that. My temporary obsessions never worked out.
I had a whole laundry list of past infatuations. There was Sam, who was gorgeous...and totally unavailable, since he was so far up Ian's ass you could see his nose coming out from between Ian's lips. Then there was Joseph, who'd had so much baggage I'm sure Samsonite was jealous. Andy followed, a little blond-haired angel with the devil's own way of telling me he wasn't interested.
The list went on, but it only got more depressing. I only dredged it up in order to remind myself that it's okay to look, would be wonderful to touch, but...I had bad luck in matters of the heart. My latest crush was probably on his third or fourth girl since we'd arrived at college.
After my third time almost getting killed because I wasn't paying attention, I called it a night and went to bed. By that point, Nick was ready for me to go. It was clear my mind wasn't in the game.
I lay in bed for a long time staring at the ceiling, wondering what was wrong with me that I couldn't seem to find a guy who thought I was worth his time.
I must have drifted off at some point, because the next thing I knew, my alarm was going off. It was five o'clock, time for work.
I dragged myself out of bed, feeling like I'd barely slept, and took a quick shower just so I'd be something approaching functional, then headed to The Morning Rush.
I got there a little early and had to wait for Marla to open the shop. While I waited, I stared through the window at the table where I’d seen the Golden Boy the night before. Of course, he’d been with that bimbo, but in my mind, I was only seeing him, alone, hands cupping his drink, looking hotter than anything in that mug could ever be.
Of course, my mind wasn’t really good at happy endings, so then I conjured up an image of the bimbo on her knees under the table. Which is why she wasn't sitting across from him. And why he was sitting so still while she finished him off.
My daydream — daymare? — ended as Marla approached. I hoped I didn't have an obvious boner.
“Hey there, cutie patootie,” she greeted me. “Hope you're ready for the onslaught. It's just the two of us this morning.”
She unlocked the door, and we set about getting the shop set up.
We were as busy as ever, but I was constantly distracted. I kept getting orders wrong because I couldn’t stop picturing that girl on her knees between his tan thighs.
You need to quit, the little voice in my head taunted me. You know this shit never works out. But do you listen? No. You'll just be disappointed again.
I hate that little voice. If it had a neck I'd strangle it.
“Hey, you okay?” Marla asked as I started to remake yet another drink. I'd added whole milk instead of oat like the customer had ordered. “You don't usually make this many goofs.”
“Sorry,” I said sincerely. “I'm just not all here this morning. You can tell Max to take these out of my pay.”
“Oh shut up, you little martyr. It's just a few drinks. We all have off days.”
I mustered up a weak smile for her and finished the drink, handing it over. I forced myself to focus and got through the rest of the rush without any more screw ups.
“If I have to deal with one more jackass customer, I'll scream,” Marla snarled a while later. “I need a fucking break.”
Our previous customer had complained the coffee was too hot, and when Marla cheerfully put an ice cube in it to make it more palatable, the customer bitched that she was watering down the coffee.
“Then take one. I'll cover. Besides, Max should be here soon.”
Marla laughed. “Like you'll get any work out of her majesty before noon. But I'll take you up on that offer. Hopefully, it won't get busy while I'm gone. Just holler if it does.”
I merely nodded at her and took her place at the register so she could step out back to pollute her lungs. Marla was a smoker, and she favored the most expensive brand on the market.
“You know, if you'd smoke the cheaper stuff, you could take the difference and save for an iron lung,” I teased her.
She flipped me off before stepping out the back door.
Unfortunately, as soon as she was gone, we did, in fact, get very busy. But I left her alone. She'd earned a break.
I filled what seemed like an endless line of orders for coffee, bagels, and muffins, suffering an equally endless barrage of complaints, mostly about how I was moving too slow for their liking, even though I was obviously alone behind the counter. Some of the complaints were more creative, though. One didn't like the amount of cream cheese I'd slathered on his bagel, another said his muffin had too many chocolate chips — as if I'd personally baked them — and yet another strongly felt that there was too much milk in his latte.
Jesus, talk about spoiled brats.
Max showed up about nine-thirty just as things were slowing down, but disappeared into her office with a wave, muttering something about needing to work out next week's schedule.
As soon as my last customer left, I made and delivered a hot chocolate to her, which she accepted gratefully.
“I think I'm going to have to hire someone else,” she said, taking a sip and leaving a hot chocolate mustache on her upper lip.
My heart stopped. “You're firing me?” I asked.
She looked at me like I'd lost my mind. “No, dumbass. Why would I do that? You're the best hire I've made since Marla. I just need more help in the evenings. Mike's availability is shit.”
“So...fire him?” It wasn't like he did much.
“And get rid of the eye candy? No way.”
We clearly had different definitions of eye candy. At best, he was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. But who was I to yuck someone else's yum?
“I have this application, but listen to this,” she continued, waving around a sheet of paper. “This lady comes in to fill this out, and she tells me she wants to be honest. She says she was arrested for assault, but only because the guy was more hurt than she was, and that she's all straightened out now, because she's a Jehovah's Witness. She wants to know if that will affect her ability to get a job, and I had to look her in the face and say, 'No, of course it won't!'”
She shrieked with laughter.
“Besides, I don't work well with women.” She thought for a moment before adding, “Marla doesn't count.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because I'm not really a woman,” Marla said dryly as she came in through the door to the back alley.
“No, I mean, why don't you work well with women?”
“Because she's threatened by them,” Marla said. “She thinks they're gonna run off with her boy toys. I'm safe because I'm an old married lady.”
Max waved her away. “I'm not threatened. I just like to stack the odds in my favor. And I have good reason to worry. Remember Trisha?”
“What happened with Trisha?” I asked.
“She hooked up with Mike,” Marla said with a wicked little grin.
“The harlot!” Max crowed. “Don't you two need to get back to work? Leave me alone so I can figure out this damn schedule.”
We started out of the room, but the Max called me back. “Hey, today is Marla's birthday, so I want to take her to lunch. Could you work a little later today so we can keep the shop open?”
I didn't have anything else to do so I agreed.
“Thanks, baby doll.”
I rejoined Marla out front. “Why didn't you tell me it's your birthday?” I asked.
“Honey, when you get my age, you don't want to be reminded. It's just another day.”
At noon, Max took Marla a few doors down to the Chinese place for lunch, despite Marla's protests that she didn't want to make a big deal about her birthday.
Left alone in the shop, I swept up and took care of a few odds and ends before pulling a coffee, light and sweet, for myself. I used a to-go cup so I wouldn't dirty up another mug. I needed to load the dishwasher, but that could wait. I wanted to take a break while we were slow. I took the chair in the manager's office, making sure I could keep the counter in sight.
My butt had barely touched the chair when the bell on the door rang. I'd barely even had a sip. So much for my break.
I sighed and rushed out to the counter, intending to put my coffee on the counter next to the cash register.
I say intending, because it never made it.
The Golden Boy was approaching, dark blue eyes unfocused as they adjusted from the glare of the bright afternoon to the relatively dim lighting of the store.
I dropped my coffee, cussing under my breath as I jumped back in an attempt to avoid the coffee that fountained out of the top. That little plastic lid is never quite enough to stand up to the tidal wave of coffee if you drop the cup.
“Excuse me,” I said quickly.
I grabbed the mop from the small closet door that was just inside the manager's office. After mopping up my mess, I returned to the counter all flustered.
Of course, I'd make a fool of myself just as I had to face my cheerleader-screwing champion. Of all the coffee joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine. Clearly, the universe had beef with me.
“So, ah, do I place my order with you?” he asked with a small smile.
Oh jeez, look at that, he has such cute dimples.
His voice was nice too — a little raspy, very sexy.
Why do I care? He's straight!
Oh shit, he's talking to me.
“Um, yeah,” I responded after what must have been a delay of about, oh, a millennium.
He ordered a double cappuccino with whipped cream, telling me it had been recommended to him. I didn't think I could bear to see him with a whipped cream moustache.
I tried to move efficiently behind the counter, but I had turned into a bumbling klutz in mere seconds. First, I dropped the mug, but, thankfully, it landed on the rubber mat and didn't break. Then I aimed three times — three freaking times — for the button to dispense the espresso before finally hitting the mark.
Straight boys shouldn't be allowed to be that hot. It just wasn't fair. Even knowing he had probably bopped that bimbo last night didn't change the thrill I took from his presence.
I approached the whipped cream gun with trepidation, afraid that it would explode when I got near it, coating me with cream to complete my descent into degradation.
I managed the task without incident, however, and moved carefully back to the counter where he stood with an amused expression on his face. I bet he thinks most people are idiots because they act like that around him. Or maybe it was just me.
“Um, you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, um, sure, everything's Jake,” I said while I withdrew my hands from the cup before they could do any more damage.
“Cute,” he said as he tapped his phone.
Did he mean me? I felt my face heating up even more — which a few moments earlier I would have sworn was biologically impossible.
He took his drink and sat at a corner table, sipping quietly while observing the street. He looked sad, and suddenly, I felt sorry for him. I knew I should just leave him alone, but I screwed up my courage and walked around the counter towards his table...then retreated back behind the counter.
Coffee first, then I could act like I was taking a break. Be cool and nonchalant. I made myself another cup, since my last one ended up all over the floor, added honey and cream, and headed toward his table again.
As I got closer, I noticed he had a faraway expression on his face, and I was loath to interrupt his silence. At least that's what I told myself as I chickened out and headed back to the counter.
I tried to forget he was there. I hid in the manager's office praying the bell didn't ring, because if I had to go out there and attempt to be graceful, I just knew it would end in someone's death. Probably my own. I could just see the headline: LOCAL STUDENT DIES IN TRAGIC ESPRESSO ACCIDENT.
Of course, the bell did ring. I peeked out to see Max and Marla back from lunch.
“Kody with a 'K', you can go. We're back,” Max called out as she walked in the front door.
She'd started calling me that after I corrected her for misspelling my nametag. I refused to wear the one that spelled my name with a “C,” and she refused to make a new one, so I went without.
I didn't want to walk past him again. I'd probably fall on my ass. I could hang out and talk, but they'd know something was wrong. Not because I don't ever stay to chat, but because I knew I must have looked like a moron right about then. Matter of fact, I felt like that was tattooed on my forehead.
“Kody, go on! Get out of here!” Max said with a giggle as she walked behind the counter.
Marla merely smiled as I reluctantly took off my apron.
“Sure you don't need anything else done?” I asked.
“I'm married, and you aren't her type,” Marla quipped.
Max slapped Marla's arm, and they laughed while I looked at them both as if they were insane.
“I'll take a little piece of that guy out there though,” Max said in a low voice.
She was talking about the Golden Boy! For a moment, jealousy swelled in my chest, but then I sagged as I realized that Max had a better chance with him than I did.
“We still need someone, Max. Tell him to fill out an application,” Marla said.
“That would be way too obvious,” Max scoffed. “Kody, go give him an application.”
“What?” I gaped at her.
“Give him an application. You know, for a job?” Max said slowly, as if I were an idiot.
“Why me?” I should have just taken my chances and left when she'd said it the first time.
Max laughed and handed me an application before retreating into her office. I cautiously slipped out from behind the counter and walked towards the guy who had fascinated me ever since the first time I'd seen him. He was still looking off into some faraway place with that air of melancholy about him that suddenly made him less of an object and more of a person.
I sighed, sucker that I am, and approached him.
“Did it live up to the recommendation?” I asked.
“Sorry?” he asked, as if my words had pulled him from a daze.
I pointed to his mug. “Your coffee. Is it okay?”
“Oh, yeah, it's great. Much better than the place on campus. Bitter, bitter stuff over there.” He gave a small shiver for emphasis.
“Okay, good. Well, uh, see you,” I said as I moved to the door.
“Kody!” Max hissed pointing frantically towards the application form in my hand.
I sighed. I'd hoped to get away without giving it to him, but resistance was futile. Max always got what she wanted. I mouthed to her that she owed me and walked back to his table.
“Um, they're hiring here, if you're interested,” I mumbled, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
“Excuse me?” he asked, looking confused.
I felt my face flush and heard Max and Marla laughing in the back. “Yeah, um. Job.”
Brilliant. Just brilliant.
His lips twitched as he fought a smile. “Job, huh? Thanks, but I'm not really looking right now. I start classes on Monday and need to focus on my studies.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Me too.”
I started backing away, the application still in my hand.
“Sorry to bother you. My, uh, boss made me,” I explained lamely.
The smile he'd been fighting finally won, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. Damn, even his teeth were perfect behind his perfect red lips.
“You're not bothering me,” he said. “See you around.”
I squeaked an unintelligible response and practically bolted out the door, hoping to God and all that was holy that I'd never see him again.
I skipped the elevator and climbed the stairs two at a time, entered our rooms, closed the door, and leaned my back against it.
Jesus, it just wasn't fair! The guy was straight, and I still acted like I was some star-struck stan. I should have asked for his autograph.
I pulled off my tee shirt with the college logo on it and threw it through the open door to my bedroom in frustration. Sometimes, I could just kick my own ass. I couldn't believe I was such a screwup in front of him, and I was even more annoyed that it bothered me so much.
I opened the mini fridge to look around for something to microwave, then decided against it. I was full of nervous energy, yet somehow also depressed at the same time.
Of my limited coping options, I decided to do what I did best — whine to Dad. With a glance at the clock, I called the store landline.
“Hey, Dad,” I said when he answered.
“Kody! How're things going?” he asked brightly when he heard my voice.
I sighed heavily.
“Uh oh, what's his name?”
He knew me so well.
“I don't even know.”
“Goose, why do you do this to yourself?”
“I don't know!” I paced around the room restlessly. “He's just so cute, and I did just like you said. I told myself no. I really did.”
“So what part of no didn't you make clear to yourself?”
“It's not that. I walked away. I swear.” I flopped onto my couch for emphasis. It didn't translate well.
“So what happened?”
“I can't escape him. He's everywhere I go. The bookstore. Orientation. The coffee shop. And I turn into a total idiot around him.”
Dad sighed. “Kody, please tell me you didn't burn down the coffee shop or something?”
“No!” I replied, mentally sticking my tongue out at him, and then doing it to the phone since he couldn't see me.
“Well, what's going on?” he asked warily.
“Nothing is going on. End of story.”
“If that was the end of the story, you wouldn't be calling me. Spill.”
“Well...I saw him last night when I went down to go get a cup of coffee...and he was with a girl.”
“Aw, Goose...you sure can pick 'em. Look, if he's a straight boy, don't think it'll be like some internet story where you turn him gay just for you, okay? Do yourself a favor and just forget about him.”
“I wish I could. He showed up at work today, and I had to serve him. Then Max tried to make me give him an application. That's just what I need. What if he starts working with me?”
“Did he seem interested in the job?”
“Well, no...”
“Then I doubt that'll happen, so stop worrying about it. And if it does, just stay focused and do your job.”
“That's the problem. I can't seem to focus when he's around. I just act like a total nerd around him. I drop stuff and say stupid things.”
“So, typical Kody behavior then.”
“Dad!”
“Just take him off your list. He's like people on TV: pretty to look at and that's it. You can't live your life hoping some straight boy is going to notice you.”
His voice was soothing, a balm for my frazzled nerves.
I sighed. “I know. I guess I just needed to hear you say it.”
We chatted for a while longer, mostly about my new job at the coffee shop and how things were going with Nick. By the time I got off the phone, I'd almost forgotten about the Golden Boy.
Almost.
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