More than Friends - Monica Murphy

  “Um, hi?” I say after I clear my throat.

  He startles, nearly dropping the book to the floor, but he catches it just in time. I recognize him immediately. Blake Stephens. He’s a senior. Quiet. Studious. He’s in most of my advanced classes, just like Tuttle.

  I’ve maybe spoken ten words to him the entirety of our high school life.

  “You’re Amanda Winters,” he says after an uncomfortable moment of silence.

  “That’s me.” Lame, lame. Yikes. “So, hey. Are you by chance hiring right now?” I ask.

  Blake jumps to his feet, coming to stand directly across from me behind the cash register. “We are. I can put in a good word for you, too.”

  I laugh nervously, noting how closely he examines me. His rapt attention is kind of creepy. “That’s awesome. Can I have an application, please?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He reaches beneath the counter and hands over a standard job application. I take it from him with a faint smile, thank him for the pen and clipboard he also hands me then go sit at one of the small table so I can start filling out the application.

  I’m concentrating so hard on making sure all of my answers on the application are correct, I don’t notice at first what’s playing on the flat screen TV hanging on the nearby wall. But then it slowly dawns on me that he’s watching a kid movie on the Disney Channel.

  He must’ve seen me stare at the TV because he says, “My parents keep it on Disney so the kids are entertained.”

  I turn to look at him. “Your parents own this place?”

  “Yeah.” He ducks his head and shuffles his feet. “I hate frozen yogurt.”

  This time my laugh is for real, and there’s not a hint of nervousness in it. “So why do you work here?”

  “Because they make me?”

  I laugh some more and he joins in with a low chuckle. “Seriously, you don’t want to work here?”

  “Oh yes I do.”

  My gaze returns to the application and I work on it some more, wishing I’d prepared better. It’s hard to come up with a list of references on the spot. I grab my phone and start scrolling through my contacts, stopping when I find my grandma’s address. She’s a great reference, though maybe I should tell her not to say she’s my grandma. “I need a job.”

  “Not this one.”’

  “Yes, this one would be perfect.” The more he talks about me not wanting it, makes me want it even more. “What’s so bad about working here?”

  “Cleaning the place. The machines, the toppings bar, the bathrooms, the floor.” He makes a disgusted face. “It’s awful.”

  “I don’t mind cleaning.” I really don’t. Mom runs a tight ship. We’re always cleaning around the house every weekend, sometimes even after school. Mom always says, “Idle hands lead to idle minds,” and I hate that quote, probably because it’s true.

  Not that I’m really sure, considering I don’t keep myself idle for too long.

  “Then you’re crazy,” he tells me with all the assuredness of someone who doesn’t have to worry about his job, considering his parents owned the place. He was guaranteed a job for the rest of his life. Granted, no one wants to work at Yo Town when they’re forty, but I’m sure Blake knows he can always work at the yogurt shop if he has to.

  I’m almost done filling out the application when a buzzer sounds, alerting that someone’s walked into the shop. I glance up to see a pleasant-looking older woman stop at the register to talk to Blake. Their features are similar and I’d bet money it was his mom. I drop my head when she catches me looking, concentrating instead on my application and hoping she doesn’t think I’m a creeper.

  “Are you applying for a job?” the woman asks a few moments later.

  I glance back up to find her standing on the other side of the little table I’m sitting at. “I am. Blake said you were hiring?”

  The woman’s smile grows. “You know Blake?”

  “We go to school together,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t ask for any more details. I don’t really know Blake at all.

  “Mom, stop questioning her,” Blake says from behind the counter.

  She glances at him over her shoulder. “I have to question her if she wants to work for me.” She returns her attention to me with a pleasant smile on her face. “Do you have a few minutes to chat?”

  Excitement and nerves bubble inside my stomach. “Sure.”

  Blake’s mom introduces herself as Sonja, and after a few minutes of chit-chat, questions about my (lacking) experience and inquiring exactly how I know her son, I’ve got the job.

  That was way too easy.

  “Can you start tomorrow after school?” she asks after letting me know I’ll average 15 hours a week and the starting pay is minimum wage.

  I’m shocked she’d offer the job so quickly and want me here so fast, but I recover quickly. “Yeah, definitely.” I smile as we both stand, and shake her offered hand. “Thank you so much for taking a chance on me.” Considering I’ve never had a job before, she was doing me a huge favor.

  “I think we both lucked out.” Sonja smiles warmly. “See you tomorrow, Amanda.”

  I check my phone as I’m walking back to my car and see that Liv has texted me what feels like five million times. Deciding I don’t have the time to text back, I call her instead.

  “Why are you calling?” she practically shrieks into the phone as her greeting. “We never talk on the phone.”

  “You sent me a thousand texts. I thought it would be easier to call,” I say as I make my way to my car.

  “Did you read my texts?”

  “No.” They were full of emojis and exclamation points so who knows what she’s losing it over now.

  “Oh my God.” She sighs and it sounds shaky. “You’ll never guess who Dustin is taking to the homecoming dance.”

  “Em,” I say just to freak her out.

  “Ew, no! He would never do that. Well, I don’t think he would.” She pauses for dramatic effect, and it works. “He’s taking Brianne Brown.”

  Huh. “Is that really a surprise?”

  She hesitates. “I guess, considering he snuck into my room last night and we made out.”

  “What?” Now I’m the one shrieking. “Are you freaking serious? What about Ryan?”

  “I was mad.” Her voice is small and I know she knows she messed up. “I just saw that photo Em posted. I couldn’t believe it. I was so hurt and confused. And then Dustin showed up. Next thing I know we’re kissing on my bed.”

  “Olivia.” My voice is stern and I glance around, thankful when I find a bench in front of Old Navy. I sit and keep my head bent, hoping I don’t see anyone from school. “You get mad at Ryan for being a supposed cheater when you’re the one who—”

  “Don’t say it!” she pleads, cutting me off. “Please. You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m a total hypocrite, but I was so furious at Ryan and Em. The minute Dustin left, I cried. I felt so bad for using him, but I was still angry at Ryan too, you know? I’ve ruined everything with Dustin. And Em. Maybe even Ryan.”

  “You always jump to conclusions.” She’s way too spontaneous. I plan everything so her spontaneity blows my mind on a regular basis.

  “So did you,” she points out. “Now you won’t even talk to Tuttle and he practically beat up my boyfriend in defense of you.”

  “Right, because your boyfriend called me a bitch,” I remind her.

  “I'm sooo sorry he said that.” Liv sighs. “This is all a total mess.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m staying out of the drama. No more boys. I just got a part-time job. Between school, yearbook, filling out college applications and working at Yo Town, I’ll be too busy for boys,” I say, desperate to believe every word I say.

  “Wait a minute. You got a job? At Yo Town? What’s that?”

  “A frozen yogurt shop,” I explain. “Blake Stephens’ parents own it.”

  “Who?”

  Of course she doesn’t know who Blake is. Poor dude. He prett
y much keeps to himself. “He goes to school with us. He’s in our class.”

  She’s already forgotten about him. “I love frozen yogurt. Can you get me a discount?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask about that.” Sometimes my friend can be a tad selfish.

  “When do you start working there?”

  “Tomorrow after school. I’ll also work this Friday night and Saturday afternoon.”

  “Friday night? But you’ll miss the homecoming game and dance! Can’t you tell them you already have plans?”

  Like I want to go to the homecoming game and dance now. Not when I know it’ll just be one big Tuttle fest. I love football. I love how our team is slowly turning themselves around—and a lot of that is because of Tuttle.

  Ugh, stupid Tuttle and his gorgeous face and perfect lips and irritating, smug personality. He is nothing but trouble. Trouble I don’t need. I always thought he was gorgeous, but he’s just a mythical creature. Someone who was in my advanced classes these last three years, though I never really talked to him. Someone I watched play out on the field while I sat in the stands wearing hideous, itchy polyester and an awful hat with a feather plume.

  He wasn’t real.

  Well, now he is. And he’s ruined everything. I can’t watch football anymore, not if I have to work every Friday night. No more band, no more football and no homecoming dance.

  There are worse things to deal with in life. Or so I tell myself.

  “I already said I’d work the Friday night shift,” I explain. “I can’t back out now. I need this job.”

  “I’m going to miss you, Amanda. Who will I sit with during the game?”

  My friend is so wrapped up in her own drama, all she can ever think about is herself. She really needs to work on that. Become a more thoughtful person.

  “You’ll find someone,” I reassure her. “I’m sure you’ll survive without me.”

  “Hey Amanda.”

  I brace myself, my shoulders tight, my entire body tense. I’m afraid to turn and see who just said those two words. It could be anybody. Worse, it could be Tuttle. Considering I’m in English and he’s in this class with me, I almost expect it to be him. Pushing his luck. Pushing himself on me.

  I don’t know if I have the strength to make him stop.

  But here’s the thing: when you want something bad enough, you start to believe it can be true. Like having Tuttle talk to you—you start to believe it’s going to actually happen, even though you claim you don’t want it to. I know Jordan’s dreamy voice anywhere, and the voice that just said my name was definitely not Jordan Tuttle.

  Turning, I blink in shock when I realize it’s Blake Stephens standing in front of me. He’s never approached me before in class. Ever. I don’t even think we’ve ever locked eyes before, let alone said hi.

  “Hi,” I say, offering him a tiny smile. “How’s it going?”

  “Pretty good.” He ducks his head and his shaggy hair hides his eyes for a moment before he flicks his head. “Thought I’d say hi, considering now we’re coworkers.”

  “Right. Coworkers.” I nod and continue to smile, kicking it up a notch when I spot Tuttle slip in through the door and head for one of the desks in the back row of the classroom. “My first official shift starts after school.”

  “You excited?” Blake raises his brows.

  Um, not the way I’d phrase it, but close. “I guess so.”

  “It’s going to be a thrill a minute.” His expression betrays nothing, so I’m not exactly sure if he’s joking or not.

  “You really think so?”

  “Nah, I’m just kidding with you.” He nudges my arm with his elbow and I laugh. He watches me, pleased with my reaction or whatever, but then the smile slowly dies. I glance in the same direction he’s looking to find Tuttle glaring at us from where he sits, his fingers gripping the edge of his desk.

  Wait a minute. Is he…jealous? Of Blake freaking Stephens?

  No. Way.

  “Are you working after school?” I ask after I tear my attention away from Tuttle. I take a step closer to Blake, because yes. I’m a total bitch who wants to make a boy jealous. I’m petty and awful but I also sort of don’t care.

  Truthfully, it feels kind of awesome, knowing that talking to Blake is driving Tuttle insane. Most of the time Tuttle drives me absolutely insane and I’m certain he doesn’t have a clue.

  “Yeah, I’ll be training you.” Blake nods, his cheeks turning ruddy, as if he’s embarrassed. “Thought I’d warn you now.”

  “It won’t be so bad,” I say, my voice soft. I don’t want him to feel awkward or weird around me. Blake has always been quiet and shy. Crap, I’ve always been quiet and shy too. Blake is more my type of person than Tuttle could ever be. I need to remember that. “Hopefully I’ll catch on quickly.”

  “I’m sure you will. During the weekends, my mom will probably schedule us together a lot, since it can get pretty busy,” he explains, making a little face. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t. I like staying busy. Makes the time go by faster,” I tell him just as the bell rings.

  Blake smiles, taking a few backward steps until he turns on his heel and settles into his seat. I return my attention to the front of the classroom, resting my linked hands on top of my desk, determined to get into attentive student mode. Mrs. Meyer starts talking and I try my best to pay attention, but I can’t focus.

  All I can think about is Jordan Tuttle sitting behind me. Watching me. What is he thinking? Does he hate me for cutting him out of my life? Probably. I doubt that happens to him much. He’s the type of guy who gets what he wants, whenever he wants it.

  “…and what that means is you’ll be working on a group project together! Won’t that be fun?” Mrs. Meyer ignores the groans that sound throughout the room. “Oh, come on, guys! This will be great. It’ll be in teams of two, so the workload must be shared fifty-fifty.”

  Great. A group project. I hate them, mostly because I always end up doing all the work. I can be a bit of a perfectionist and a control freak, which means I’m super annoying to everyone I end up working with.

  “Now, I normally would pair you up myself, but considering you’re seniors and should be able to figure who you like to work with on your own, I’m going to suggest you choose your partners. Don’t leave anyone out! And don’t fight over each other,” Mrs. Meyer calls over the commotion that starts at her announcement. I turn and watch everyone scramble around in frantic search of a partner when I meet Blake’s gaze.

  “You want to be my partner?” he asks, pointing a thumb at his chest.

  I part my lips, ready to say yes, when I hear someone speak from behind me.

  “She’s with me.”

  Slowly I turn to find Tuttle standing there, looking intimidating as crap with his arms crossed in front of his broad chest and a glower on his face that could slay a thousand dragons.

  I try not to let him affect me, but I swear I feel my toes tremble in my shoes. “How exactly am I with you?”

  His gaze lingers on mine, and damn it, I can’t look away. “You’re my partner.”

  “But you never asked me,” I point out.

  He looks ready to roll his eyes. Or walk away. He does neither. “Would you like to be my partner, Mandy?”

  I hate it when anyone calls me Mandy…with the exception of him. He somehow gets away with it. “I don’t think so.”

  Now he does roll his eyes. The desk beside me is empty and he drops his perfect body into the seat, tipping the desk onto its two front legs so he can lean as close as possible in my direction. “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “No, you’re being ridiculous, assuming I want to be your partner for this project.” I hesitate, quickly looking away like a coward. “I don’t,” I say to the wall.

  He’s quiet for a moment, and amidst the growing noise and chaos of the room, his silence is completely unnerving.

  “I mean it.” I look his way when he still hasn’t said anyth
ing. “I don’t want to be your partner.”

  “Even after everything we’ve done together?” he asks, his voice deadly soft.

  Of course, his question reminds me of all the things we’ve done together. And they are a lot. Mostly having to do with touching. And kissing. The boy can kiss like no other. He has this way of making me forget everything the moment his lips touch mine…

  “Especially after everything we’ve done together,” I say firmly. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “Oh, this is fabulous. You two are going to be great partners together!” Mrs. Meyers exclaims when she stops in front of the both of us. She clasps her hands together, a giant smile on her face. “I love it!”

  “He’s not my partner,” I start, but Tuttle sends me a look that renders me silent. My protest doesn’t matter anyway because Mrs. Meyer is already gone, moving on to talk to someone else.

  “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  The smug smile stretching Jordan Tuttle’s perfect lips makes me want to slug him.

  I show up at Yo Town promptly at four. Sonja is there to greet me and leads me into the tiny office in the back of the building, where she has me fill out a bunch of paperwork, hands over my official Yo Town T-shirt, telling me she has to go, but that she’s leaving me in good hands. Then she sends me back out into the shop so I can be trained.

  By Blake.

  “This job is pretty easy,” he tells me as he has me run through a few practice transactions on the register. I pick it up pretty fast, which fills me with relief. The scariest thing to me was the cash register, but it’s fairly simple.

  “Then why do you hate it so much?” My Yo Town T-shirt is pale pink and Blake’s is black. I notice those are the theme colors of the store. There’s pink and black everywhere, including the cups people use to get their frozen yogurt.

  And see, that’s the easy part of this job. I don’t have to dispense the yogurt. Or put on the toppings. The customers do it themselves and bring their yogurt to us, where we weigh it and collect the money. Easy peasy.

  How hard can this job be?