Not A Girl

By:  Julie

Another day.

It was much like any other day, in the life of a sixteen-year-old high school student (doesn’t THAT get you excited?) except that it was Christmas break and I had to work all day rather than sitting home with the rest of my family like I had the year before. And the year before that. And… come to think of it, every year up until I TURNED sixteen, and they decided that I should get a job.

So I was leaning on the counter of the local Pizza Hut (gotta love that. NOT.), waiting for either my shift to be over or for someone to walk through those doors and save me from a fate worse than death: absolute boredom. Oh wait, it was too late for THAT one.

So anyway, I was leaning on the counter, when who should appear but the one, the ONLY Dan Miller, star of the basketball team, love of my life. With his cute little blonde girlfriend.

Which was a strike against me.

Not that I wasn’t cute and blonde. I’m one of the cutest and the blondest. It’s just that, well… it’s hard to be a cute blond girlfriend when you aren’t a girl to start with.

Of course, to my grand embarrassment, Jacob comes out of the kitchen and grabs my belt loops and pulls me backward, making me almost smack my head on the counter. Times like these I wish the management would stick to their threats and fire Jake because of his dreadlocks.

"What the hell?" I ask him, and he grins at me, his eyes scrunching up when he does so and I’m thinking that he ALMOST looks hot like that. Almost.

"No drooling over the meat," Jacob said, and I wanted to SMACK him for saying that, because damn, can’t the guy EVER let something drop.

"I don’t drool," I say, and he shakes his head.

"No?" Jake asks. "You come damn close, in that case. "You need to get them in a table."

I sigh, and I walk out from behind the counter, knowing—KNOWING, dammit—that I was going to make a fool of myself. I didn’t even think I could form a proper sentence if or when he looked at me. (Actually, I knew that couldn’t form articulate sentences when in Dan’s presence, because Jake and I had tested it.)

But I’m a brave soul, and I stepped out and led them to an empty table, not bothering ot grab menus, because hello, pizza place, who needs them?

"Uh, we want a booth," the cute little blonde girlfriend said.

"Uh, well, there isn’t one open," I tell her. And I realize that even though she’s HIS girlfriend, I am happy that I am not a cute little blonde girlfriend, because for some reason, they’re all bitchy, and really that’s not me.

"Look, Cindy, this is fine, okay?" Dan said. "Don’t worry about it."

"I don’t like sitting at tables," She said. "I’d rather be in a booth."

"There isn’t one open," Dan said, and the way he said it, he sounded like he was at the end of his rope with this little dolly.

"What can I get you guys to drink?" I ask them, and I’m looking at Dan, who flashes me this smile, the smile that’s like… I don’t know. It’s a great thing, let me tell you. All big and pretty… I’m gushing, hold on. Where was I?

Oh yeah. Him smiling. And they order, and I’m out of there like the beginning of the horse races, because I seriously need to get distance between me and this beautiful boy before I do something stupid.

Jake was waiting when I got back to the kitchen to get the drinks.

"Well?" he asks, as I’m running around and trying to get the drinks.

"Well, the girlfriend." I say. And Jake nods. He knows what I mean. I mean that, well, she’s a girl, and I’m… not. What else can I say? He also knows that I mean that she’s one of THOSE types, you know, the cheerleader ones? Slutty and airheaded and they think they’re all that and … well… you get the point.

Jake helps me get the stuff onto the tray and on my way back out there, and he says, "I’m going on break. Come out back when you get done with those drinks. Let Erik take the table."

"Not Erik," I whine. I hate it when Erik takes my tables. He always hits on the guys and gets their phone numbers. It’s not fair. I want those damn numbers.

"Trust me Ashley," Jake says, then he’s gone and I nearly get killed when Trevor rushes past with a pan of pizza.

"Pepsi?" I say, arriving at the table. It’s easy to say pop names and hand the drinks to their respective owners. "Someone’ll be back to take your order, unless you want the buffet," I tell them.

"You getting off?" Dan asks.

WHAT? My brain is shrieking. He didn’t’ say that. No he did not.

Well, yes, he did say it, but I don’t think he meant it like that.

"Break," I explain. And one thing I want to do is get out of there, out of the heat and the lights and the smoke and good god, the smell of the pizza (Because I hate it by this point.) and I want throw my apron in the dumpster along with my little name tag (because do you have any idea how many people make fun of boys named Ashley? I wish that I didn’t have the thing.)

"Oh," Dan says, and maybe he sounds genuinely disappointed. But I doubt it. Cute blonde girlfriend Cindy has her hand placed—inconspicuously, she thinks—in Dan’s lap. I know this because I wasn’t looking.

"So Erik’ll be out here to take your order as soon as possible," I say, and I hightail it the hell back to the kitchen and through the back door where Jacob promptly offers me a cigarette and a place to sit. Which, of course I take.

"What did you tell Erik?" I ask him.

"Told him that if he was gonna work your tables like he always does, he needs to get Dan’s number. For you." Jake told me. "Expressly for you."

"You didn’t," I say. And Jake grins and nods. "Jake," I shriek. "You didn’t!"

"I did though. And you’re gonna call the damn number too," Jake said.

"What if he’s just fucking with me?" I ask, and I take a long drag off the cigarette, and I close my eyes. "That would fucking suck so hard."

"He won’t do that." Jake said. "Trust me."

"Whatever, Jake," I say.

Ten minutes later, we’re back inside, smelling like smoke and not exactly passing Mike’s inspection when we come back through the doors. He hates it when his employees come in smelling like smoke, which, I think, is part of the reason Jake and I do it. Erik comes over and slips something into my back pocket.

"Enjoy," he tells me.

But then, a huge group of people come in, and we know it’s going to be all Erik and I can do to keep the room covered until Chrissy gets there. So I have to wait to read the note until after work, and it makes me angry, because every time I look up, there’s Dan, sitting there with girlfriend practically in his lap.

Annoyed. Yeah, I am.

It’s later, after Dan and his crew are gone, that I finally get the chance to read the note. It’s written in crayon, on a napkin, and what it says… he said that he’d see me later.

Yeah right, I think, and I pull on my jacket and wait for Jacob before heading out. He hands me another cigarette and we walk outside into the cold. Jacob slides his hand into my back pocket, spread flat on my ass, and I don’t mind, because really, who cares?

Dan is leaning against my car, in the parking lot.

"I told you I’d see you later," Dan says, and I turn to Jake, who grins and moves his hand away from my ass. I’m sure I look more than a little dazed. I take a drag and stare at him.

"Yeah," I say. It’s the only thing I can think of.

"So…" he says. He’s about as good at this as I am.

"Just say whatever it was that you wanted to say and get this over with, because we both know that you HAVE to go back to your girlfriend," I say. And I wonder where the hell that came from.

Dan leans forward and takes the cigarette from my lips, and replaces it with his lips. I’m startled, and I don’t kiss him back, and he pulls away.

"That’s what I wanted to say," Dan tells me. I raise an eyebrow as he sucks on my cigarette.

"What about pretty blonde girlfriend Cindy?" I ask.

"I’d rather have cute blond boyfriend Ashley," Dan says. And I’m blinking with shock.

"Excuse me," I ask.

"You heard me," Dan says, and he walks away toward his car.

"Um," I say. I can’t think. "Um."

"I’ll talk to you tomorrow," Dan says. "You have my phone number."

I nod and get into my car, because yeah, that was exactly what I wanted to know.

The End 

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