"She seemed fine to me. I have to get out there before TJ yells at me."
"Yeah. See ya."
When my shift ends at five, I race home to look over my notes for the interview. My phone rings right at six and I find it's not just one person doing the interview but a whole team. They fire questions at me for a half hour, then tell me more about the job and the company. By the time it's over, my nerves are frazzled and I need a shower from sweating so much.
"Hey," I say to Riley when she picks up. "That interview was freaking intense. I was sweating just trying to keep up. I need to shower and then I'll head over."
"How'd it go? You think you'll get the job?"
"I have no idea. They said they'd follow up with me in a couple weeks. They have a lot of people to interview."
"What type of questions did they ask?"
"I'll tell you later. I need to go clean up. I'll be there in a half hour. Sound good?"
"Yeah. Bye."
I take a shower but know I'll be sweating again in an hour or two when I tell Riley how I feel about her. I'm so nervous. I don't know when to do it. Do I wait until after dinner? Tell her before? Or should I wait until later tonight?
When I get to Riley's, Charlene greets me at the door wearing a short silky robe that's open enough that I can see her lacy red bra.
"Hey there, sugar." She gives me a hug, her nearly naked breasts pressing against my chest. I'm used to it. When I first met Charlene, I couldn't believe how she dressed when I came over, but now I think nothing of it. She'll even walk around topless when I'm here.
"Hey, Charlene." I walk past her into the trailer. "How've you been?"
"Real good." She smiles with her glossy red lips. "Got me a nice man. Been making good tips at the salon." She points to her boobs. "And these still aren't sagging." She laughs.
"Speaking of the salon, someone said it might close. Is that just a rumor?"
"Renee keeps saying she's going to sell, but it's never gonna happen. Who's gonna buy it? Nobody around here has that kind of money."
Riley appears. "Renee's selling the salon?"
"Riley, you know that girl is all talk," Charlene says. "Remember that time she kept telling us she was gonna run off to New York and be in those plays?"
"Yeah, but this is different. This could actually happen, and if it did, where would we work?"
Charlene goes over to her. "Honey, don't you worry about things that ain't ever gonna happen. You just go out with your little boyfriend and have a good night. Where you two going, anyway?" She glances back at me. "You sure seem dressed up for a night out. You two aren't running off and getting married, are you?"
"Mom, of course not." Riley rolls her eyes. "And Nate's not my boyfriend."
But I could be by the end of tonight. Or maybe not, given the way Riley said that just now, like the very idea of it is absurd. Now I'm getting worried. What if she rejects me? What if she says I'm crazy for even suggesting we become more than friends?
I'm telling her anyway. I can't keep this a secret any longer. I have to tell her how I feel and I have to tell her tonight.
"We're going to the Italian place downtown," I say to Charlene.
"That place is expensive." She looks at Riley. "You got money for that?"
"I'm paying for it," I say. "Riley, we should get going. I have a reservation."
She walks over to me, looking beautiful in a short, light blue dress and black heels, her hair down and straight.
"Have fun, you two!" Charlene says as we leave.
We get to the car and I hold the door open for Riley.
"Thanks," she says, seeming surprised since it's not something I normally do.
I get in on the other side and start up the car.
"I told her to put clothes on but she wouldn't do it," Riley says, referring to her mom.
"She was wearing more than she usually does."
"Dave's going to be there in a few minutes, so good timing for picking me up." She adjusts her seatbelt. "You really think the salon will close?"
"I have no idea. I've just heard people saying it might be sold. If it's sold, I'm sure the new owner will let you keep your job."
"It's not me I'm worried about. It's my mom. Hairstyling is the only job she's good at. It's all she's ever done. And she makes decent money. If she loses that job, I'm going to be stuck supporting her."
"You kind of already do."
"I help her with expenses. I don't pay for everything."
"I doubt she'd lose her job. She has people who've been going to her for years. The salon would lose customers if they let her go."
"Yeah, I guess."
Turning out of the trailer park, I imagine Riley no longer living there and instead, living with me. I'd let her pick the place. Whatever she wanted. If I get this job in Denver, I could afford a really nice place, something twice the size of that trailer.
"You ever think of trying the stylist thing again?" I ask.
"No. Even if I was good at it, I didn't like it."
"Have you thought of anything else you might want to do?"
"Not really. I kinda just want to keep trying different jobs, and if I don't like one, I'll find a different one. I don't want to commit to something I may not like."
"After what I paid for college, I'm committed to graphic design, whether I like it or not."
"You don't think you'll like it?"
"I'm not sure. But it's what I'm going to do. I've never thought of doing anything different."
She nods and looks out the window. We ride in silence the rest of the way. I'm too nervous to make small talk. How am I going to make it through dinner? I'm too nervous to eat.
I just want this to be over. I want to tell her how much I love her, hear her say it back, and spend the rest of the night dreaming of our life together.
Chapter Nine
Riley
"Nate, is something wrong?" I ask as we wait for the check.
"No. Why?" He fumbles with his cloth napkin, wadding it in a ball before setting it on the table.
"You barely talked during dinner." I point to his plate. "And you only took a few bites of your pasta."
"Guess I wasn't that hungry. You want to take it with?"
"Well, yeah. That's like two lunches, maybe three."
"Miss," he says, calling the waitress over. "Could we please have a box for this?"
She walks off to get one.
"You want dessert?" He rests his arm on the table, which causes his napkin to fall on the floor.
"I'll get it," I tell him.
"No, I've got it." He picks the napkin up and drops it on the table. "So dessert. Yes or no?"
"I don't need dessert."
"We could go to that coffee shop you like. You could get one of those pastries. The flaky ones with the chocolate?"
"They don't sell those at night. Only in the mornings."