“You’re crazy. He’s not into me,” I scoff, shaking my head as I line up the liquor bottles. Jodie exhales loudly, her tapping fingers on the bar matching her annoyed tone.
“Are you kidding me? Are you blind? I really thought you were more perceptive, Lysander,” she says.
It’s midnight on Friday, and everyone else has cleared out. The other waitresses have left, and we’ve finished the cleaning. I told Jodie she could leave twenty minutes ago, but she refused. Instead, she’s insistent on rattling me about Reed Wilder and when I’m going to ask him out.
Since the first day Reed strolled into Midsummer, he’s been back. A lot—as in every single day. He swears we’ve got the best food in town and that we have such a nice atmosphere. I know better. I’m onto him.
Despite his quiet exterior and his button-up shirts, I can tell he’s got his mind on more than friendly conversation and cheesesteaks.
He’s crazy about Jodie. That’s the only thing that makes sense.
I can see by the way he fiddles with the straw paper on the table and how he fidgets with his menu. He might be shy and might be buttoned-up calm, but the Philadelphia native has definitely got his eye on Jodie.
I’ve been watching him since our business discussion on Tuesday. With Jodie, he laughs recklessly and talks a mile a minute. With me, our conversations are pretty much about business and the best places in Ocean City for various things—car washes, mechanics, insurance agents, you name it. He’s just a little—tense—around me. And after analyzing it quite a bit these past few days, it dawned on me.
He likes Jodie. He knows we’re close friends. He knows he has to sort of get past me, win my approval, for me to encourage Jodie to go out with him. I’m onto this game.
And, in truth, I’m a little disappointed. Not surprised. Wouldn’t be the first time. But disappointed, nonetheless. Still, nothing like a slap of reality to remind you of the failing status of your love life.
“We’ve been through this. He’s not here for me, Jodie. Look at the guy. He’s as straight as a ruler.”
“Okay, one, as a straight girl, I find that analogy weird and mildly offensive for some reason. But two, open your eyes. He’s not into me. He’s into a certain bartender who he can’t keep his eyes off.”
She’s leaning on the bar now, looking at me expectantly. I put down the bottle in my hand, walk around the bar, and grab a seat on one of the stools, the empty restaurant actually a little eerie. I sigh.
“You’re nuts. He’s here for you. I see the way he eyes me when you walk up to his table. It’s like he’s afraid I’m going to be pissed he’s making a move.”
“You’re insane. He’s not into me. No way. Look, I’m a pro at reading sexual tension. Seriously. I’ve basically made it my job. How do you think I get so many hot lays?”
“You mean like dude-man, the hottie who was a total asshole, as predicted?”
She punches my arm. “No, listen. I can read men. And you know what? I’ve got nothing. Not a blip on the radar when I’m near him. Not a wriggle of the loins from him. Nothing. I feel nothing from him.”
I almost choke. “Did you just say wriggle of the loins?” I ask, shaking my head.
She shrugs and smiles. “Well, I could have put it in less polite terms.”
“I don’t think wriggle of the loins is polite. I think it’s downright weird. But anyway, you’re crazy. He’s not into me. He’s not gay.”
“He’s gay. One hundred percent.”
I roll my eyes. We’ve been through this for two days now.
And, although I won’t admit it to Jodie, I wish to God I could believe her. A huge piece of me wants to believe I’m not imagining the spark when he looks at me. I want to believe in those few times we’ve locked eyes across the room and my palms sweated while my heart fluttered weirdly. I’m hoping the pull to be near him isn’t a fleeting feeling spurred by desperation to see something that’s not there.
I pray the way I light up when he walks in isn’t a one-way street.
But I’ve endured enough heartache to know my luck with love isn’t great. I’ve learned love doesn’t run smooth, and I have an uncanny penchant for falling for the straight men… just as Jodie sometimes has a penchant for falling for the gay ones.
“You need to trust me,” she says now, shaking me out of my head. “My gaydar is apparently better than yours.”
“What about Phil last month?” I point out.
Phil was the very young and very muscular dentist who started stopping in last month and Jodie fell for him… but let’s just say there was no “wriggle in his loins” for women, and dentists just aren’t my type.
We both lost in that one.
“Okay, that was one time,” she says, rolling her eyes and waving her hand.
“There was also Steven, Zander, and oh yeah, who was that singer? Was his name Rick?”
“Okay, we’re done here. But this time, I’m not wrong. You’ve got to believe me.”
“You’re wrong. Look, we’ve barely talked. I always have to initiate our conversation,” I argue.
“Because he seems a little introverted. A little unsure. Plus, the guy moved here from Philadelphia. Give him a break. He’s still getting used to the place.”
“Which is also my point. Let’s just say he’s gay. I’ve barely even spoken to him. We probably aren’t even a good match. Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he’s going to be someone I’m interested in.”
Jodie rolls her eyes. “Get real. You know he’s exactly your type. A businessman with a nice sense of fashion who is opening his own boardwalk shop—he’s your type. Not to mention he’s adventurous enough to just pick up his whole life and start over. You might not admit it, but you like a man who can take a risk.”
“I do. But who knows what his type is? Assuming he’s gay, again, which I still don’t think he is.”
“He is.”
“Well, then why is he so comfortable chatting with you so much? You practically know the guy’s shoe size, and I have only said a handful of surface-level or business-related words to him.”
“Because you’re both being morons. I can feel your sexual tension across the room. Stop avoiding it or pretending he’s into me.”
“He is into you.”
“You know, Lysander, if you don’t take a risk and ask him out soon, I’m going to have to step up and do something crazy to prove he’s into you and not me.”
“Like what?” I ask, eyeing the zany redhead with curiosity.
“You don’t even want to know. So you better get up your courage the next time he’s in.”
“How do you know he’ll be back?”
“He’ll be back,” she says, standing up from her stool.
“And what will we talk about?”
“You could start with how hot and bothered you are by the mere sight of him, how you can’t wait to jump into bed and explore what he’s hiding under his tight button-up shirt.”
I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? I don’t know how the hell I ended up hiring you.”
“You hired me because I’m the best damn worker and friend you have. Trust me, someday you’ll thank me for pushing you to talk to the man who is made for you.”
“Again, you’re speculating. He’s quiet. He seems a little… uptight.”
“Oh, right, and Mr. I-have-to-line-up-all-of-my-liquor-bottle-labels-just-right is never uptight. Or hypocritical.”
“I’m a bit OCD sometimes. That’s different.”
“Well, we all have our quirks. And I’m sure Reed has his. But I get the feeling he isn’t as square as you think. A man like that sometimes just needs a little shove in the right direction. You could be that shove. You could be the thing to loosen him up.” She winks at me, smirking.
I shake my head. “You’re still ridiculous.”
She heads toward the exit after swiping her keys from the counter. She stops at the door, turning back. “Grey’s Anatomy.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
She turns to face me. “Start by talking about Grey’s Anatomy. He’s a fan.”
“Are you serious?” I ask, smiling a little at the mention of my favorite show.
“Told you he was perfect for you.”
With that, she flips her hair and heads out the door, the Closed sign slamming against it as I shake my head and wonder if maybe Jodie’s right.
But then I exhale, staring at the Shakespeare poster nearby and telling myself that would just be way too easy.
“Okay, let’s just get right to it. Are you gay?”
I’m standing near Jodie, hands in my pockets, the next night. There are tables and tables of college kids, tourists, and couples enjoying the Saturday night atmosphere of Midsummer Nights, but at the sound of her words, it all melts into the background.
Everything seems to turn hazy as my focus is on Jodie, Reed, and the burning sensation in my cheeks. I can’t believe she’s doing this.
On second thought, I can.
Reed Wilder blushes, shrugging.
“I am,” he mouths, barely a whisper. Still, across the aisle of booths, I remind myself not to stare, not to smile, not to make it obvious as my entire being sighs in relief.
“I knew it. Lysander, he is! I told you,” Jodie shouts unabashedly across the restaurant in true Jodie fashion.
I shake my head and turn, heading to the bar so I don’t die of embarrassment. Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean I’m his type, after all. Still, it does validate those looks we’ve shared, that feeling deep within when I see him. Maybe, just maybe, he’s feeling it too.
“Lysander, get over here,” Jodie says, walking toward me. “Did you hear me? I said he’s gay.”
I turn around, facing Jodie. “Jesus,” I whisper harshly. “Do you want to make a billboard? You do know not all gay men appreciate a freaking announcement of their sexuality, right?”
Jodie shrugs. “What? It’s not like it’s something to hide,” she says. “You’re always open about it.”
“Yeah, but that’s me. It’s not always that easy.”
“Well, whatever. The point is, I was right. He’s clearly not into me. He’s into you. I mean, the cheesesteaks here aren’t that damn good. Go talk to him. Right now. Stop making this awkward,” she demands, ushering me toward Reed.
“Oh, you mean my waitress-slash-friend announcing a customer’s sexuality, a customer I happen to think is attractive, isn’t awkward already? You’re one hell of a matchmaker.”
“You’ll thank me later. Now I’m going on break. I’ll get Juliet to cover my tables. By the way, do you think customers think her name is like a stage name? You know, to go with the Shakespeare theme? It’s kind of funny you hired her.”
I blink at her, trying to follow her train of thought.
“Right, sorry. You probably don’t care about Juliet right now. I got you. Now get in there, stud. Get some action.” She winks, and I am dumbstruck, which really shouldn’t be happening. Nothing should surprise me at this point with Jodie.
Jodie slinks to the back, leaving me alone in the aisle, Reed Wilder in my direct line of sight. I breathe deeply and assure myself I’m already all in thanks to Jodie. No use in trying to hide. Time to face the truth.
Hands in my pockets, I feign confidence as I stroll down the wooden floor, feeling like I’m walking a pirate ship’s wooden plank. Some bad ’80s song plays thanks to Georgette’s messing with the sound system. Could this get any cheesier?
I ramble to his booth, questions of what to say swirling faster than I can wrap my head around them. I stand before him, and he glances up, his dark eyes finding mine.
“Hey,” I say, oh-so-smoothly. “Um, how’s your food tonight?”
Great. Smooth, Lysander. Real smooth. Clearly I’m out of practice—which is true. It’s been way too long since I’ve cared to do this whole flirting thing well.
Reed doesn’t seem to notice. He flashes me a huge grin. “It’s great, as usual. I just love this place,” he says.
“Despite my waitress’s rude questions?” I ask, trying to ease into the topic.
He blushes a little. “I mean, in all fairness, I don’t think it was rude. It’s sort of obvious I’ve been coming here for more than the cheesesteaks.”
I take a breath and decide to take a seat across from him. “And here I just thought I had a damn good cook all this time.”
“Oh, you do,” he says, eyeing me. “But you’ve got a lot more than that going for you here.”
We stare for a long moment, both probably a little unsure of where to take this conversation. Still, sitting across from him doesn’t feel as unnatural or as uncomfortable as I feared. In fact, it feels just… right. It feels right sitting across from the man who is essentially a stranger, which is an odd feeling.
“So, how’s the business going?” I ask.
“Stressful. But I’ve got some new paint colors picked out, and I’ve started working with distributors. And I’ll have you know, I haven’t found a classy fanny pack. But I haven’t given up just yet.”
I grin. “Well, when you find one, I’ll be the first to sport it. I’ll make it part of the Midsummer uniform.”
“I have a feeling Jodie might not be okay with that.”
“All the more fun, then, right?” I tease. “So where is the Sand Dollar going to be again?”
“It’s the one on twenty-first. It was formerly called The Best Seacret.”
“Awesome. I know where that is. I’ll have to come check it out once it’s open.”
“You know, the owner may be willing to give you an early tour, preopening.” Reed shrugs, winking at me.
“That would be great,” I say. “I was in there a while ago. If I remember correctly, that place needs a lot of work. Are you up for it?”
“I think I am. Like I said, I’m ready for a change,” he says, studying me before taking a swig of his beer.
“Well, I’m no expert, but like I said before, if you need any help with the business end of things, I’ve learned a lot over the years. Or if you just need some food delivered after some long nights of painting, I’m your guy.” After the last few words are out of my mouth, I feel my chest burn. I hope that didn’t sound too forward.
Then again, maybe it would be okay if it was too forward.
“So how long have you owned this place?” Reed asks, gazing straight at me.
“It’s been four years now that I’ve been sole owner, but I’ve been learning the ins and outs of it for much longer than that. Mom always wanted me to take over the place someday, so she made sure to teach me the ropes early on. I just never thought I’d be taking over so soon.”
“What happened?” Reed asks hesitantly.
“Cancer.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching for my hand. I let him cover my hand, the electricity jolting between us. I look up at Reed who, after glancing around, pulls his hand back.
I sense an odd push and pull feeling from him. It’s like he wants to admit to our palpable electricity, but he also wants to pull it back.
He seems warm and inviting… but conversely, he seems closed-off and afraid.
Reed Wilder may be straightforward about his business dealings, his career, and the fact he’s not here for just cheesesteaks—but I also get the sense there’s a whole lot of complicated about the sexy man sitting across from me.
“Me too,” I say, trying not to overanalyze like I sometimes do. “She was an amazing woman, and it was so hard, especially since I’d lost my dad right before that. It was lonely at first, but over the years, this place has sort of become my family, you know? Jodie, Georgette, the staff—they make it feel like home. I’m lucky. You know what I mean?”
He smiles at me now. “I do. Sometimes family isn’t about blood. It’s about the family you choose. You have a great thing going here, Lysander,” he says.
“He does. He really does,” Jodie says now, sliding into the booth beside me, apparently deciding her break is over. She slides an arm around my shoulders. “And now that we’ve established this guy isn’t interested in me, how about you two get the hell out of here and go somewhere nice? Come on, Reed Wilder, take the boss man out for a good time. He could use some fun.”
I shake my head, contemplating strangling Jodie.
“I’m sorry she’s so blunt,” I say, turning to Reed.
“It’s okay. I could use someone to show me around. If you’re okay with that. You know, if you want to.”
I smile and nod, thinking about exploring Ocean City with Reed Wilder, thinking about the electricity in our touch.
“I’d love that,” I admit.
Jodie claps her hands. “Told you he was gay,” she announces again, and I roll my eyes as she lets me out of the booth. Reed also stands.
“Wait, you really thought I was into Jodie?” Reed asks.
I shrug.
“I guess I’m better at hiding my interest than I thought,” Reed says, and I smile.
Inside, though, I wonder if there’s a reason for Reed’s hiding. I don’t have time to consider it, however, because before I know it, we’re on our way to the boardwalk, strolling along, learning about each other. And with the Ocean City wind whipping, my lips tasting the saltwater air, I know Reed Wilder’s sweeping into Midsummer Nights wasn’t an accident.
I might not believe in love at first sight, and I might not have been lucky in love, but something tells me Reed Wilder can change my mind, my heart, and maybe even everything I thought I knew about love.