Read Write On Press Presents: The Ultimate Collection of Original Short Fiction, Volume II Page 29

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  Nick watched as Jessica Roberts squealed and ripped her earphones off her head. She was staring at him trying to catch her breath, standing perfectly still. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out before asking him, “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here?” Nick countered, cursing the blue collar accent he knew dominated his voice; what he wouldn’t give to sound educated and in her league at the moment.

  But she just tilted her head and looked him over. “You work here?”

  And didn’t that piss him off. What? Just because he sounded the way he did she assumes he’s the help? Of course he was, which pissed him off even more.

  “Yeah princess, bingo, you got it. I work here and since you aren’t ringing any bells, I’m guessing you don’t work here. Not in that getup. What tipped you off? My uniform? Or do I just look like a waiter?” His voice was rough, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming down her body.

  Man alive, she was incredible. In that soft, floaty dress with all that dark hair loose around her shoulders and falling down her back, she looked like a boy’s dream—at least this boy’s. She was slender and petite with a tiny waist that flared out to smooth, curving hips and a round bottom. Her legs went on forever. And Jeez-us, the way she danced. Passionate, with a sensual edge that had totaled surprised him. Who knew Jessica Roberts had that inside her?

  His eyes met hers and time froze. Everything faded away but her eyes—green, with midnight black lashes fringing them. The color reminded him of the impossibly perfect green of a blade of grass. The look in her eyes seemed to promise heaven.

  “Oh, no...I just meant...you look like you’re wearing a tuxedo...it’s not that. I mean...you look like you just came from the auction.” She laughed nervously. “But, you’re too young.”

  Unbelievable. Jessica Roberts was almost stuttering. Nick felt his anger dissolve. He pushed off of the fence and came closer to her. “Well princess, I did just come from the auction, but I was serving the rich and famous, not mingling with them.”

  “Please don’t call me that.” She stared at him and he swore he saw hurt in her eyes. Hurt? “Please don’t call me princess. I hate that word.”

  Nick stepped closer. The urge to touch her was almost unbearable. He banked it. Instead he stared back at her, caught in the green of her eyes. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. Finally he nodded. “Fair enough, I won’t call you princess if you don’t call me waiter. I’m Nick Armstrong; we went to the same school.”

  “Oh...really? I’m Jesse.” He saw the puzzled look on her face as she tried to place him. An awkward silence stretched for a minute. Then he shrugged before saying, “I came to school late senior year so I didn’t get a chance to meet many people.”

  She smiled. It lit her face up in a way that was devastating to him. Somehow inside, he knew that this girl and this smile would be etched in him forever. He had been watching her and waiting for her to see him for so long...was it too much to ask to be with her?

  Just be with her.

  To see the smile turned on him some more just for a little while? He wanted to forget that they came from different sides of the tracks. He wanted to forget that he was poor and rough in manners. For just these moments, he wanted to be rich and equal to this girl who had everything in life. This girl that could make him hold his breath with just her smile.

  So he asked her carelessly, as if her answer meant nothing to him, “So, wanna go on a quick bike ride? Motorcycle,” he clarified. He cursed himself the minute the words left his mouth. Way to go, Nick. Talk about blue collar.

  To his surprise, her eyes widened with excitement. “Really? A motorcycle...” She whispered the words and darted a look at in the direction of the banquet room.

  He spoke quickly. “There’s another forty-five minutes to go on the auction. We can be back in twenty minutes, tops. Eh, that is if you want to.”

  “Oh, I want to. It’s on my bucket list.” She grabbed her shoes and his hand. “Let’s go.”

  He laughed. “Bucket list?” He shifted ahead of her so he could lead the way to his bike, disbelief humming through him that Jessica Roberts was going to be on his bike with her arms wrapped around him.