2
Mysti
After what feltlike the longest day in the history of my life, I pushed out the front door of Whitman’s, my focus on my keys as I stuck one in the keyhole to lock up. I was desperate for a shower, near sick at the stench of my sticky hair, that constant reminder of the mess I’d made and all that I’d missed.
That man, whoever he was, had been seated in my section. I would have taken his order had I not spilled all over him. I could have talked to him, learned his name, found out more about the guy I’d been daydreaming about all day. That hope I’d felt while seated on his lap was as sour as the tea that had soaked my hair.
“Mysti?”
I spun at my name, keys slipping between my fingers, hands up and ready to pound anyone who got too near. But when I saw who it was, I nearly stumbled on the small lip on the sidewalk as I backed into the door.
“Hey, hi!” My voice was too loud, my fingers coming away sticky as I tried to smooth down my hair. He was there, standing in front of me, looking even more perfect than he had this morning. “What are you doing here?”
He approached, hands tucked in the pockets of his low-slung shorts. He was no longer in the t-shirt he’d been wearing earlier. Instead, his black tank top bared his tanned, muscular arms. The man gave me a shrug, smiling in a way that set my heart fluttering away again.
“Came to make sure you were all right. You know, after this morning?”
My cheeks heated in the mild, late-afternoon sun. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“No need to apologize, love.” He pulled his hand from his pocket and thrust it my way. “Name’s Trenton.”
“Trenton.” It was just a quiet mumble, an afterthought that tumbled from my lips as all my focus was directed at where our hands met. His was warm and smooth, strong as he held me just right. I fumbled for what to say, and what came out was, “Is that long for Trent?”
A chuckle tumbled free from his chest as I shook my head with embarrassment. “Sometimes, when the mood strikes.”
“I love it.”
He dipped his chin, the bun at the top of his head visible as he peeked up at me. “It’s a bit different.”
“Nonsense. It suits you.”
The grin he gave me? Oh, how it made my knees shake. He took a step closer, moving out of the way of some of the foot traffic on the sidewalk. He smelled like the sea, but I still smelled like kombucha. He caught a whiff, too, his nose crinkling and his lips curling back.
“All right here, Miss Mysti?”
I glanced up, over Trenton’s shoulder, and found one of the diner’s regulars standing there.
“Hey, Steve. Yes, everything’s fine. Just talking to a friend.”
The man nodded, his head bobbing as his gaze zipped between the two of us, lingering on our connected hands. When Trenton slid closer, his free hand grazing the small of my back, the man jerked his head up. “Okay then. You s-stay safe.”
“Will do.”
He turned and lumbered away without another word. Trenton cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him.
“Friend of yours?”
“Just one of our customers. One of many.”
He grinned. “Yeah? You wanna tell me about them?”
“Oh. I mean, I can?” My brow furrowed. “That is, if you really want to know.”
“I’d love to hear anything you’d tell me.” He stared down at me, eyes sparkling, the scent of the waves wafting off his skin. I could have stood there forever, had a cool breeze not picked up. His nose went back to crinkling, though at least this time, his lips didn’t curl.
“I really need to wash up.”
“Did you work all day like this?” He took a step back, and only then did I realize our hands were still clasped. They slipped free as I stepped with him, out into the flow of people passing the cafe on the sidewalk, falling into step with him as we walked.