Mismatched.

Four

Back to Adeline!

I flop backwards onto my bed, wincing at my sore muscles. Practice today was killer. We have about two weeks until camp and our coach was getting really picky about everything.

Facials, point your toes on kicks, passé on doubles, feet together after turns, and be sharp!

Coach Dupree had practically made that her permanent mantra these last few practices. Whoever says dance team isn’t really a sport has never had to do triples over and over again because the stupid freshmen wouldn’t shut up. 

Camp was going to be amazing. At my old school we didn’t have a big enough squad to go to camp so I’d never been.  I’d been assigned Izzy, Bailey, and Tamra as roommates and I couldn’t be happier. Except Tamra was a co-captain which meant she’d be stressed as hell the entire camp. Captain and co-captains were expected to keep us all in line and report any problems they had to the sponsors and Coach Dupree. They had to walk a thin line of doing what they were told and not completely destroying any friendships they had with girls on the team.

I glance over at the clock on my bedside table and groan. Time for work. Practice had ran over I guess and now I had twenty minutes to change out of my sweaty dance clothes and into jeans and my ‘Class of 2015’ shirt from spirit week.

Okay keys, phone, and wallet…. I shove all of it into my pockets and sprint down the stairs.

“Bye Jackson! Remember; homework before PlayStation ‘k?” I yell at my fourteen year old brother, slamming the front door closed before he can reply.  I really hope he does his homework tonight. I’d gotten at least ten emails from his teachers about missing assignments. Mom isn’t really around enough to discipline him so that lovely task falls to me.  

I grab the clutch of my old pickup truck before reversing it out of our driveway. 4:51. I have nine minutes to get all the way across town to McAlister’s to be on time for my shift.

After doing a number of probably illegal traffic moves, I spin into my usual parking spot behind the restaurant.  Running where we clock in I smile widely as the digital clock on the wall reads 4:59.

“Cutting it kinda close aren’t you?” I turn to face Alex my albeit handsome enemy. He was also the lovely Marcie Granger’s sorta-kinda-boyfriend. I say it like that because they’re one of those couples. The ones that are ‘dating’ for popularity but are not-so-secretly screwing everything that breathes behind each other’s backs.

“So what?” I ask, just a tiny bit of my hatred for him leaking through. We uh, we had history. We dated for a good two weeks before he tried to get into my pants. When I said no like any other self-respecting girl would do, he went around telling everybody he had ‘popped my cherry’ anyway, which is so not true. I still have my V-card, thank you very much.

“Just noticing your almost tardiness. No need to get all snappy with me, Hills.” I roll my eyes at his casual stance as he leans back against the supply closet.

“Whatever, Anderson just move.” I demand, gesturing towards the closet door.

He just stands there, a stupid smirk on his face.

“I need my apron.” I say slowly, as if he’s mentally impaired. I can tell it strikes a nerve. His little brother is autistic. Oh shit.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t remember that Dylan has-“

“Shut. Up.” He hisses, moving from the door and stalking towards the kitchen. Well now I feel guilty. Grabbing my apron, I begrudgingly walk through the kitchen door and into the dining part of the restaurant and notice Alex already taking orders, his back stiff: much different from his usual casual in-difference.

Tonight’s just going to be lovely.

As the night drags on, I’m proven correct. Alex knocks food out of my hands twice, takes my orders off of the chef wheel multiple times, and takes my tips. Asshole.

And here’s the cherry on top. I think to myself as I see the mysterious Carlo walk into my section.

I sigh as I look myself over. Ranch, onion soup, and iced tea cover my apron and I and I know for a fact my hair is looking ratchet in its sloppy bun.

I walk over to their table and am frozen for a second as I notice the people with him. A guy who looks about 25ish and a girl of about Jackson’s age. The three are obviously related.

“Uh-uhm hi. What would you like to drink?” Carlo looks up from his menu and stops for a moment.

“Oh. Hi, Adeline.” Unf, his voice. So low and velvety and perfect.

“Hi, Carlo.”

“This is my sister, Isabelle and my uncle, Roman.” I nod my head in greeting and watch, confused as his uncle looks at him and he nods. That’s weird.

“So what can I get you?” He looks back up at me as if he had forgotten I was there.

“Just a water, thank you.” The girl, Isabelle and the uncle give me their orders and as I come back to their table a foot sticks out in front of my ankle that I don’t see until my ass is on the floor. That foot happens to belong to the one and only Alex Anderson.

Alex is too busy laughing to notice Carlo rushing out of his booth and rushing towards him. Before I can blink Alex is on the floor, clutching his jaw that’s already bruising and Carlo is standing over him. He hisses a few words to Alex before coming over to me.  

“Are you okay?” I nod and he helps me back onto my feet.

“Are you sure?” He asks again and I chuckle at the obvious worry on his face.”

“Yes, Carlo. Thank you.” Is it just me or did he just blush a little.

“See you tomorrow.” He calls, throwing a couple of bills on the table.

Two twenties! I practically crow with delight as I take the very generous tip and step over a still sulking Alex. My shift is up!