Becoming Us (COMPLETE)

*One*

Grease permeated the air as I rushed to grab a tray of pre-filled coleslaw cups from the back to move to the fridge out front. The kitchen was hot as hell. Thankfully, I wasn't stuck there for my entire shift.

"Move it, short stuff," Carlo barked and popped my hip with a towel as he scooted between me and the counter. He hated extra people in his kitchen.

"If you'd keep the cold sides stocked, I wouldn't be back here." I poked my tongue out at him, and he waved me off.

Carlo might be gruff, but he was good people. I'd worked at his diner for five years, and now he was like family—a grumpy grandpa. I loved him. Plus, he was more dependable than Mama—my only real family.

When I needed a ride to and from work for three weeks a couple of months ago, until I could afford to fix my car, he did it without complaint. Well... no he didn't. There were complaints, but he didn't mean them. Fussing was a hobby of his. Who was I to take away his fun?

"You better get back out front before Mandy starts bitching about doing all the work." He pointed at me and dropped a basket of fries in the grease.

"I've been here for thirty seconds. She's fine." I rolled my eyes.

Mandy swung around the corner, headed straight for me, and Carlo scoffed. "Too late."

"What's he talking about?" Mandy narrowed her eyes on him and smacked her gum. She did not share my fond feelings for the crotchety old guy. They tolerated each other because Carlo paid well, and she's a hard worker.

"Nothing. He was just joking." I hefted the tray to my shoulder. "What's up?"

I moved toward the front, with Mandy following. "Your man is here." She bit her lip and shimmied her shoulders.

"He's not mine, Mandy."

"Well, tell him that then, because he only pays any attention to you, and you're not taking him seriously."

Lowering the tray to the counter in the front, I started unloading the little white cups of coleslaw onto the fridge shelves beside the cellophane covered small salads. "That's because he's just kidding. He's not flirting with me for real." I wasn't delusional enough to think otherwise.

I peeked around the corner to his usual table and had to hold in a sigh. That man was something to look at—dark skin and eyes, strong arms and chest. "There's no way Trae's really interested in me. Look at him."

"Oh, I've looked. And if you're not gonna ride that ride, you need to get out of line and give the rest of us a chance."

I laughed. "You know I don't care about sex, Mandy. Have at him."

She squeezed my forearm and leaned down to whisper, "I know your ex was shit and the sex was even worse, but I'm telling you, it ain't all like that. You're old enough to know better. And that man," she paused to drag her gaze over him again, "he knows what to do. I can tell."

"Well, I'm going to go take his order like usual, because that's why he's here. Not everyone's thinking of sex all the time."

Mandy threw her hands up. "If you'd just find someone to fuck you right, you'd know you're wrong."

"Okay." I turned away from her, only to be grabbed by the arm and spun back around.

"Wait." Mandy handed me a lip gloss. "Put this on." I sighed but did as I was told while she smoothed my hair. "There. You're beautiful. Go."

Shaking my head, I strode to his table. He looked up from his phone and as usual, his grin filled me with tingles that I ignored.

In my experience, this excitement was the high-point, and sex was the most over-hyped thing ever. It was a letdown that left me feeling like something was missing, or worse—it became an obligation I couldn't avoid. I didn't understand the appeal.