Read Online The Season of Shay and Dane by Lucy Lacefield - Free Book Online

up.
    I pay for my food and
spot a table near the window.
    I take a bite, not even
tasting it, just lost in thought— that I was so damn glad she was there .
Was it really a coincidence? I mean, girls know all kinds of tactics—many of
them obvious as hell. But if she was curious, she was almost as nervous today
as she was yesterday. I smile poking around at my next bite, thinking if she
had wanted to show up to look for me, I must have really gotten into her head because
this girl was anything but forward. . . Shay.
    I peal apart the seal
on the milk carton, pulling the flap out and pinching it to a point, drinking
all of it at one time, when I hear my name from across the cafeteria by the
registers.
    Vince makes his way
over and pulls up a chair opposite me. I can’t shake him, but the company’s
alright for lunch anyway.
    “Hey,” I say.
    He starts right in.
Always angling, for some gain he’s in pursuit of. “You know Gretchen?
Well, she’s got a friend who wants to meet you.”
    I’m sure she does. Here
we go. I nod, acknowledging I’m listening to him as I eat my salad, and let him
finish.
    He leans in, “Yeah,
well, I hear from some of the other guys on the baseball team that she’ll make
your eyes roll into the back of your head. . . and if I weren’t hooking up with
Gretchen, I’d have a go at her myself.”
    He’s a class act .
I look down at the rest of my salad—that somehow looks less appetizing with
each word out of his mouth. I’m absolutely glad that my sister’s never
encountered him. First glance, I’d probably knock the shit out of him—never having
thrown a punch in my life.
    “Think about it—it’ll
get me some points, maybe with both of them.”
    I move my eyes up from
my tray to look at him—I’m sure if someone did a CT scan, his brain would be in
the shape of a dick. “Yeah, I’ve already thought about it. No thanks.”
    He shakes his head,
like I just passed up the last chance of ever knowing carnal pleasure .
“I just don’t get you man. You never bring anyone home—you’ve got to be getting
backed up.”
    I’m done .
    These girls actually
get into bed with him—I can’t even finish my lunch near the guy. “Listen Vince,
I’ve got class in a couple of minutes—see ya back at the building.”

12
     
     
    shay
    “I could eat a horse!”
Jenny pulls open the door to Mama Gia’s. A small rope of bells jingles against
the glass. I follow close behind listening to her speak in Italian to the
greeter at the front podium. Who laughs and motions a waiter, and leads us to a
table in the center of the room. This is right up her alley; it’s a chunk of
Italy—at the base of campus. Most people come here for a semi-formal occasion,
or anniversary I suppose. I’m sure even some for a first date.
    Jenny introduced it to
me and my parents the day we moved me into my apartment, and were all too tired
to think about cooking. My parents loved it. My dad thought Jenny was a saint;
guiding me right to some good decisions about getting life started here. First
the apartment, now the best little Italian restaurant he’d eaten at in
years. With a stomach full of spaghetti, I could tell he was feeling more and
more at ease about me being here on my own—with Jenny. Anyway, since then we
manage to eat here about once a month when we’ve had an especially long day—just
getting back from breaks and into the swing of things seems to be a regular,
for one of those days.
    She says some things in
Italian again to the waiter and all I can pick up is “. . . Guido . . . “
    A moment later he’s returned
with bread and oil.
    “I ordered for us,” she
says, dunking a torn off piece of bread into the oil and motioning for me to
dig in.
    “Thanks. You’re sure
you told him only marinara sauce, not meat sauce this time?” I ask, reaching in
the basket for a slice of warm bread.
    “I told him last time
too—he just got it wrong.” I laugh at her. “What?”
    “Nothing,” I smile