A Date with the Devil Page 9

  “It was nice to meet you, Trista,” I say, watching her go.

  She spins around, plastering what I can only assume is a fake smile upon her lips. “You too.” And then she exits the break room, leaving me alone.

  I’m not sure my assignment is going quite like Linda had hoped, but at least I’m trying.

  * * *

  “You again?” the bartender at Side Bar asks as I sit down at the bar.

  I nod. “Me again.”

  He breaks out into a grin. “What can I get you?”

  I stare at the plethora of alcohol situated behind him and decide to make it a simple Jack and Coke.

  My first day on the job did not go as smoothly as I would have hoped. The first part of the day was fine, but the last few hours, it seemed like I couldn’t do anything right. Not to mention the fact that I was getting the stink eye from Trista. I’m not sure what I did to make her dislike me so much, but if it wasn’t obvious that she disliked me before, it’s crystal clear now. Especially after she accused me of mixing up her clients appointments and blaming me for being double booked.

  The bartender sets the Jack and Coke down right in front of me. “You look like you’ve had a tough day, so this one is on the house,” he says, his eyes warm and welcoming.

  I exhale sharply. “Seriously?”

  He nods. “You want to talk about it?”

  I’m not sure why he is being so nice to me, but it’s a welcome change from the complete bitch Trista was to me on my first day. Without much thought, I find myself nodding. “I started my new job today and one of my co-workers was completely rude and unhelpful. I’m pretty sure she hates me, but I don’t know why.”

  He shakes his head like he understands. “Girls can be catty, especially when they are around other attractive females. That’s probably all it is. You don’t strike me as someone who is malicious.”

  “I’m not,” I reply. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be dogged based off of my looks. It’s been so long since I’ve been around other females. Back in high school, I was popular, but definitely judged. Girls can be nasty.

  “Felicia,” the bartender calls out to his co-worker. She is the secondary bartender at Side Bar. With pink hair, a nose ring, and tattoos, she’s definitely got a punk rock vibe going on for her. She hops over, her eyes shifting between her co-worker and me. “Tell this beautiful lady that she is better than the catty bitches at her work.”

  Her expression changes to sympathy. “Girl, you are gorgeous. Just remember that you are the bigger person.”

  I nod, sipping my drink. “Thanks.”

  “What’s your name, darling?” she asks me.

  “Bryce.”

  “Nice to meet you, Bryce.” She extends out her hand for me to shake. “I’m Felicia. What are you drinking?”

  I look down at my half-empty glass and back up at her. “Jack and Coke.”

  She shifts her eyes to her co-worker. “Ben, another Jack and Coke on me for this lovely lady.”

  Ben locks eyes with me. “See? There are some good people out there.”

  I can’t help but smile. Yeah I had a shitty experience with a co-worker…but I’ve just made two potentially new friends. I’d say today isn’t turning out as bad as I had previously thought.

  * * *

  I’m feeling good and tipsy as I leave the bar. I’m not drunk by any means, but I am definitely buzzed. Tingles run up the length of my back and neck as I get the intense feeling I’m being watched. It’s dark outside, but illuminated by the tall lamp posts lining the small parking lot. I spin around, my eyes darting about, seeking out the culprit. When I see no other people outside, minus a few people on the other side of the street, my speeding heartbeat begins to slow. I’m probably still jittery from my past and everything that has happened with Tyson recently. I climb into my car, locking the door immediately out of habit. I wish I could have celebrated with my best friend tonight.

  Nine: The Pressure is on

  “Salon 553, this is Bryce,” I answer the phone. I can see Trista making her way from the parking lot. Her long dark hair is blowing in the wind behind her. She is wearing the smallest pair of white jeans I’ve seen in a long time and a white crop top. She seems like a girl who can get away with wearing anything at her jobs.

  After I schedule the appointment with the customer on the phone and hang up, Trista pulls open the door and walks in.

  “Good morning, Trista,” I greet her with a warm smile. Her head spins around as she eyes me down and a disgusted look plays upon her face.

  She doesn’t even bother responding just walks past my area and to her own station. The other hairstylists greet her and get different reactions. I think it’s safe to say she still dislikes me for one reason or another.

  I have met a couple of really nice hairstylists, who make the job more exciting. They don’t get along with Trista, but they really like me.

  The rest of the week slides by at a sluggish pace. My boss is very impressed with me. She tells me I’m catching on quicker than any person who has held the position before me. Trista is still cold and calculating toward me, but I’ve done my best to avoid her throughout the week.

  I’m sweeping the floor when one of the hairstylists approaches me. “My mother-in-law is watching my kids and I really need to get home to relieve her. Are you going to be okay locking up?” Shondra asks.

  I glance up at her, my stomach sinking. I was told when hired that I would more than likely be the last person out of the building on most nights, but I guess I just didn’t think it would happen this fast. Without much thought, I find myself nodding, plastering a pseudo-smile across my face.

  “Great,” Shondra says, slipping on her jacket. “You were a big help today, thank you.”

  “Thanks,” I reply, my eyes returning back to the task at hand. My mind is running through everything that is left to be done and how long I will actually be alone. Thankfully, besides sweeping, the only thing I have left to do is empty the trashes and lock up. I hastily finish sweeping and then grab the trash from all the receptacles, bagging it into one larger bag. Our trash bin is located at the back of the building, so I grab my keys to ensure that I don’t accidentally get locked out, and make my way outside with the bag heaved over my shoulder. There is a slight breeze, but for it being mid-October, I’m surprised by how unusually warm it is. It’s a full moon tonight, and I find myself stopping to stare. It’s beautiful in its entirety; big, round, and with a hue of blue. I shake myself out of it after a couple of moments and then begin making my way behind the building to the trash bins. I open the lid and throw the black bag inside and head back inside.

  Once I’m back inside the building, I lock the back door, turn off the majority of the lights, and set the alarm after grabbing my personal belongings. Once the alarm is set, I have two minutes to make it out.

  As soon as my foot is through the door, I hear the salon phone begin to ring. I know I’m being timed, so my mind goes through a bit of a dilemma. Should I head back inside, kill the alarm and answer it? Or should I leave like I had already been doing? My conscience gets the best of me when I worry that it might be my boss checking up on me. I head back inside, turning off the alarm and catching the phone on one of the last rings. “Hello?”

  Silence.

  “Hello?” I ask again, to which I don’t receive an answer. I swear I can hear someone breathing on the other end, but I chalk it up to a mistake and hang up. I begin to set the alarm once more, when the phone rings yet again.

  “Hello?” I answer it without hesitation.

  “Bryce, is that you?” A familiar female voice asks from the other end.

  “Yes,” I reply.

  “You’re still there?” my boss asks.

  “Technically, I was just walking out when you called,” I answer. “Sorry I missed your call before, I tried to pick it up in time.”

  “What call?” Janet asks.

  “The one right before this one. When I answered no one
was there.”

  Janet breathes loudly into the phone. “This is the first time I called.”

  “Oh,” I reply, dumbfounded. “Well, I’m just getting ready to head out.”

  “Okay, good. How did everything go tonight?” she asks.

  “Good. I was just cleaning up when Shondra took off.”

  “Alright. Happy to hear that. Thanks for the great job today!” Janet says enthusiastically.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Have a good night, Bryce,” she says.

  “You too.” I hang up the cordless phone on the base charger once more and set the alarm again. I lock the front door and pull on it to make sure it’s secure before heading for my car. It’s dark outside, but not pitch dark. When I checked the clock before leaving, it had just passed 9:00 p.m. I breathe in deeply, savoring the feeling. It’s been so long since I’ve felt safe enough to be out in the world late at night, alone. I’m finally gaining my freedom back, and it feels amazing.

  * * *

  I know it’s a bad idea before I even get in my car, but that doesn’t stop me. I’ve been trying to get ahold of Tyson this entire week and he’s been conveniently checked out. He hasn’t been responding to my text messages, my calls, nothing. It’s so unlike him, and it has me worried. I don’t want to believe that his avoidance is because I shot him down, twice. Tyson has been there for me more than anyone else in my entire life in the short amount of time we’ve known each other, I’m not willing to give up our friendship without a fight, much less an explanation. I pull up to the familiar street, and before I even kill the engine, I see an unfamiliar red car parked out in front. I know from experience the car isn’t Tyson’s or Grae’s, but I ignore my nagging suspicion as I park directly behind it. I climb his front porch steps quickly, a bundle of nerves. I’m not sure what I am going to say, how he is going to react, or even if he still wants me in his life. It’s killing me inside.

  I knock timidly on the front door, and within moments I hear barreling footsteps headed toward me. The door swings open, and I find myself staring at Grae. His facial expression changes from confusion to a bit of shock to pity. “Bryce?” he says and then glances back toward the couch in the living room. My eyes follow his, and sure enough, Tyson is seated on the couch, his back toward me, and his arm around a blond female. Both of their heads swivel in my direction when Grae says my name. Ashleigh the bimbo. Tyson’s expression mirrors his roommate’s.

  Grae steps away from the door as Tyson jumps up from the couch startled, and stalks toward me. “Bryce, what are you doing here?”

  I can feel the daggers being thrown at me from Ashleigh’s eyes. She looks pissed that I am here.

  “Can we talk?” I ask, glancing between Tyson, Ashleigh’s glare, and Grae’s gawking stare. I want to have this conversation in private, not in front of the prying eyes staring us down.

  “Um, sure,” he says awkwardly, glancing back at Ashleigh, and then stepping out onto the porch and closing the door behind him.

  We walk to the edge of the porch and he takes a seat on the ledge, tensely. “What’s up?”

  My eyes drink him in as I take in his ruffled brown hair and chocolate eyes, realizing this is the first time I’ve seen him where he hasn’t been completely put together, perfectly styled hair and all. I actually prefer it. He is wearing a loose-fitting white t-shirt and light blue jeans. I am beginning to realize just how much I’ve missed his presence in my life. “You’ve been avoiding me,” I say.

  His eyes shift around, dodging mine. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Yes, you have. I must have called you at least ten times and texted double that. I haven’t gotten one response back from you.”

  He rubs his chin, tensely. “I’ve been busy.”

  My eyes glance toward the window. “I can see that.”

  “What do you want, Bryce?” he asks aggressively, in a tone I’m unfamiliar with. He never speaks to me this way.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, choking up. “Something has obviously changed between us.”

  His jaw tenses and he looks away. “Bryce, you can’t honestly expect me to spend all of my free time with you. I have other friends, a life.”

  His words cut deeper than anything he’s ever said to me before. I feel like I’m looking at a complete stranger, not the person who saved me. I swallow a few times, biting my lip, fighting back tears. “I never once said that, and you know it. You couldn’t have sent a simple response back? Do you not consider me a friend anymore?”

  He sighs, rubbing his chin. “What do you want from me, Bryce?”

  I step back, my balance wobbly. “I want my friend back. I want the person who saved me that day back.”

  He rolls his eyes, sighing. “You’re not the same person you were back then, and neither am I.” He stands up.

  Tears begin spilling over my cheeks, and I keel over, grabbing my stomach. Breathing is becoming a chore, and I’m sucking in air, but it is only making it worse. I’m sobbing and hyperventilating in the worst way. This is the hardest I’ve ever cried in my life. I feel a pair of arms encircle me and pretty soon, I am pulled tightly into his chest. He is holding me so close, I can smell his cologne mixed with his pheromones, and it is calming me. It takes more than a few minutes for me to quiet my cries and take control of my breathing, but when I do, he finally releases me and takes a step back.

  “I feel like everything is changing between us,” I whisper through silent tears.

  He takes his thumbs and sweeps them under my eyes, wiping the tears away. “Bryce, what did you expect? Guys and girls can’t be friends. One or the other will always develop deeper feelings. That’s just the way it is.”

  I shake my head. “No. We were friends…but you had to ruin it.”

  He steps further away from me. “Bryce, I’m your friend. I’ll always be your friend. But things have changed between us, we both know it. Honestly, I don’t think we can go back to the way things were. Not now.”

  His words feel like a knife twisting inside my gut. “I don’t know what I want. I just know that I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Look, I laid my heart out on the line, and you kind of walked all over it. I want you. I’ve wanted you for a very long time, but I’m not willing to wait forever, Bryce.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I have to go back inside. Even if I’m not in your life, I want you to know that I’m always going to be here for you. We’ve been through too much for me to just walk away now. I just can’t continue to hang out with you, and be around you when I know you don’t want me the same way as I want you. It’s too hard. I won’t do it.”

  I nod, my shoulders slouching, defeated. He slides his fingers beneath my chin, shifting it upwards so he can look me in the eyes. “You’re the only person I trust,” I say quietly.

  He nods. “I know. That’s something you’re going to have to work on. I believe in you, pretty girl. You just need to have some faith in yourself.”

  I inhale deeply as he spins around and begins walking toward the door. “Tyson,” I call out as he reaches for the handle.

  He stops, but does not turn around.

  “For what it’s worth, you’re every girl’s fantasy,” I say softly.

  He pauses for a minute, with his back turned to me. “Not every girl.” And then he opens the door and enters his house.

  My heart breaks with his last sentence; with the closing of the door. I’m confused, I’m heartbroken, I’m lost. I slowly make my way down the steps of his front porch and back to my car. As soon as I am seated, my head falls against the steering wheel, more tears sliding down my face. I wish things could go back to the way they were before he tried to kiss me, but I know it’s not that easy. Everything changed that night. I haven’t been with anyone since Robbie, and as much as I want to believe I’m stupid for turning Tyson down and give him everything he wants, the little voice inside of me is too scared. I’m scared that if we go down that road and it doesn’t work out, I’ll lo
se him forever. I know I’m going to have to make a choice soon, whether to let him go or pursue the thing that scares me the most. God help me.