The Price of Love (Boyxboy)

2

alex p.o.v.

I grabbed the handle of the door, pulling it smoothly open for the other people in our party. After everyone had passed through the entrance, I stepped into the cool air of the restaurant, the door closing softly behind me.

I saw Howes wander over to our group, and I stepped out, smiling at him and offering my hand. He grabbed it and shook it once, firmly.

"Howes," I said. "Good to see you! You look great. How have you been?"

"Good, good," he replied lightly. "And you?"

"Just fine. Thank you again for letting us come on such short notice," I said, remembering my manners.

"Of course! Anything for you Mr. Reynolds," Howes said, smiling. He paused for a moment.

"What?" I asked him, concerned.

"Well, my best waiter had to go home, so I'm afraid I've had to assign an unpolished trainee to your table. I can make a switch if you'd like, I just don't want it to interfere with--"

"Howes," I cut him off. "It's perfectly fine. Nobody will notice, and I'm with some very good tippers. It'll be good experience for the kid."

Howes breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much Mr. Reynolds, I really appreciate your understanding."

"It's no trouble Howes. No trouble at all."

As the hostess showed us to our seats, I noticed Howes glancing worriedly over at us. I shifted uncomfortably, then brushed it off. Our waiter couldn't be that bad. We sat and conversed for a couple minutes before a young man around my age walked up to the table nervously.

His hair was mussed and his apron was crooked. He wore clothes that had minor creases and wrinkles in all the wrong places. He seemed happy, a crooked grin spreading across his chiseled features, lighting up his green eyes. He seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on where I had seen him before. He cleared his throat.

"Hello, welcome to Howes. My name is Miles. Can I get anything started for you?" He asked.

Miles, Miles, Miles...where have I heard that name before?

The men around me ordered their drinks, and I ordered my usual Crushed Velvet.

"I'll get those started for you," Miles said, then snapped his notebook closed and stuffed it back in his apron. Tulley leaned over to me and whispered in my ear.

"Who's the kid?"

"Some new boy. Completely green. Go easy on him. It's his first time waiting," I whispered back. I racked my brain, trying to remember where I had heard the name Miles before. By the time he came back with our drinks I was relatively sure that I had finally figured out where I knew him from.

He looked different when he came back. His hair was gelled and combed, and his apron was set straight on his hips. His clothes looked crisp, and he still looked happy. He held our drinks with ease, setting them down with a smile. As he set mine down next to my hand, he stared at my face for a second.

I shifted, uncomfortable under his gaze. He was too close to me.

"I know you from somewhere..." Miles said, straightening. I blinked up at him. "Did we...did we ever go to school together?"

"It's possible," I said, not wanting to share my theory before testing it. "Where did you go to high school?"

Miles stiffened, and my heart clenched. "Upperidge High," he said tersely, gritting his teeth. My eyes widened a fraction. It was him.