Danielle Younge-Ullman - He Must Like You

I have the item is the first thing I hear when I walk into work on Sunday night.

The item in question is my duvet, and the person winking at me about it is Kyle.

Kyle, who is standing behind the host stand in the cheery foyer of the Goat wearing a mini cowboy hat with plush horns curling out of itthe latest in his growing collection of goat-themed apparel. He looks hilarious, cute, and deceptively harmless.

Its in my truck. Ill give it to you after?

Sure. Thanks, I say, with what I hope is a neutral-seeming nod.

Ill have to wash it in hot water. Twice.

Or we could go for a drive, climb into the back, get cozy, Kyle suggests, with a waggle of his white-blond eyebrows.

My insides take flight like a flock of startled birds, and then Im doing this awkward thing where Im cringing and trying to smile at the same time. But smiling might be too encouraging and so I stop, because even after three weeks of my ignoring his texts and generally avoiding him as much as possible, Kyle continues to look at me with those stupidly hopeful, flirty eyes.

Still, I dont want to be rude. We work together, and in that capacity Kyle has been fine. In fact, except for the one (admittedly problematic) incident, hes been great. Not to mention, Im the one who asked him to bring me the duvet when my mom finally noticed it was missing today. Im also the one who let him wear it home from my house in the first place.

Ill just grab it from you after, I say. I have a lot of homework.

Your call, he says with a shrug.

Right.

What?

Nothing, I say, with another too-bright smile. Um, whats my section?

The patio, Kyle says, gesturing at the giant, erasable seating chart that sits on the host podium.

Alone?

Yeah. That okay?

Its a big section to handle solo, but more tables means more tips, so I say, Totally.

By the way, Perrys coming in, and he asked for you specifically, Kyle says, looking at me like he expects this to make me ecstatic.

Perry Ackerman is a handful, and high on the list of people Id rather not have to deal with right now. But hes a great tipper, and a regular, so I give Kyle a thumbs-up and say, Awesome.

I knew thatd make you happy.

So happy, I say, and walk away taking deep breaths.

On my way through the restaurant I wave at my fellow servers Brianna and Kat, both of whom are working in the front tonight. Kat seems not to see me, but Brianna gives me a thumbs-up and pulls a comically panicked face that tells me shes already in the weeds.

The patio is at the back of the restaurant, and is, in fact, not a patio at all, but a windowless, rectangular space tricked out with fake plants, paper lanterns, an anemic fountain, and painted windows on every wall that do not fool anyone.

I have just enough time to tidy the section, tally my float, and gulp down a half cup of hideously bitter coffee behind the wall of the service station before I hear, Libbyyyyyyyy!

You got the ol perv? Brianna gives me a wry, dimpled grin as she comes through with a stack of dirty plates. Her amazing crown of black braids adds at least three inches to her diminutive stature.

Yep.

All right, tits up, she says, which Ive come to understand means some combination of chin up and good luck.

I snort and square my shoulders.

Libbyyyyyyyyyyy! Perry is now advancing conspicuously through the dining room in one of his linen suits, with a shirt almost as pink as his bulbous nose, his silver hair gleaming. Hes accompanied by two of his friends, Douglas and Garcia, while Kyle trails behind them with a stack of menus.

I paste on a thrilled expression and step out from behind the station.

There you are! Wheres my hug? Perry demands with open arms, then closes the distance between us and yanks me into one of his boob-crushing, bone-cracking, full-frontal embraces. Perry Ackerman is Pine Ridges much-loved town savior, thus the hugging must be endured. Its a bit much, though.

When it finally ends I take the menus from Kyle and usher Perry and his friends to their table. I get them settled, take their drink orderAckerman beer to start with, of coursepunch it in, and head to the bar to pick it up.

Nita, our bartender and niece of the owners, Dev and Maya, gives me a wave.

Hey, Nita.

Perry, huh? she says, with a knowing look.

Yep, I say, carefully balancing three beer glasses upright in my left hand, then grabbling the bottles by the neck in my right. At least it wont be boring.

Thats the spirit, she says, then adds, Oh, hey, can you try to sell some of the cucumber salad? Or the butter chicken burger? People are really digging the fusion items and Maya and Dev really want us to keep pushing them.

Sure, I say, and head off.

Perry, Douglas, and Garcia order a ton of food and agree to every upsell and special I suggest. Theyre going to have way too much and their table is going to be overloaded, but Ive become pretty mercenary about this stuff. Every little increase of the bill increases my tips. Not only that, but the more I sell overall, the more shifts and better sections I get. And the more shifts and better sections I get, the higher my bank balance climbs, which is the rather urgent reason Im working here in the first place.

Kyle is careful not to fill up my section until Perry & Co. are settled, but soon all my tables have been sat, and the pace picks up. Im checking on orders, cranking the pepper mill, delivering and clearing plates, taking more orders, making suggestions, chatting people up, running bins of dirty dishes to the dish pit, making pots of coffee, getting another round of drinks for Perry because theyre switching to sangria, and helping Brianna and Kat any time Im not busy for more than ten seconds.