Young Annabelle Series: Young Annabelle, the Truth About James, What My Heart Wants (3 page)

He grinned, showcasing a perfect set of white teeth.

I could melt…

“I’m a different case,” he stated as if it should qualify as an answer.

I snorted.
“That’s not saying much, so I’ll make it easier, since you’re circling the issue at hand_”

He interrupted, cringing.
“I’m not circling anything, I’m different_”

“Yeah, I bet you are,”
My tone was rising, “but in this day and age, we don’t call gay guys fruity, that’s discriminatory and incredibly rude!”

He leaned forward. “Your
words not mine, Fireball.” His grin instantly returned.

I let out an exasperated grunt and shook my head at
the
nickname
.

Wow, I didn’t think it was possible, but asshole
could trump cute.

“What now?”
He teased with a laugh.

Clearly he’d noticed
I wasn’t too fond of the name he’d branded me with. It didn’t even begin to describe my personality, not that ‘Fireball’ was beyond my realm of expression though. Perhaps I should show him how a ‘Fireball’ really acted.

He grabbed another lemon from the crate. “So are you gonna ride my ass every time I say something stupid or are you gonna teach me this shit?” He held out the lemon in the space between us.

Ignoring his extended arm, I leaned down to grab a lemon. “How about both, douche!”

He dropped
his lemon back into the crate. “Both,” He echoed, which meant he knew he was an asshole and didn’t care. Well that wasn’t going to fly with me.

“That’s right,” I snapped, “if you say something stupid I’m going to call you out on it but, if you’re a good little boy, I just might teach you how to make freshly squeezed lemonade.” I offered him a faux sweet smile.

I turned toward the juicer on the table and dropped the lemon beside it. “Come here and bring your lemon.”

He took a few extra seconds to select the perfect lemon before coming to stand next to me. His shoulder grazed mine ever so lightly.

Okay, a little too close.

Normally it wouldn’t have bothered me if a hot guy stood beside me, I’d be all
‘yay me’
, but the asshole persona was a major turn off.

Really, it was.

My head dipped down slightly and, for a brief second, I caught a whiff of his scent: a mixture of shampoo and cologne. It was
nice
.

“You like how I smell, huh?”

WHAT! How on earth did he notice?

My ponytail flew through the air as my head jerked back up. I shook my head in di
sbelief. “I didn’t smell you!”

“Did so, F
ireball,” he replied smugly. “You got all quiet and the only thing I heard was the sound of your nostrils sniffing my sweet scent!” He ended that beautiful sentence with a loud laugh.

My eyes bulged. “I was not_
”

“Yes you were. I don’t blame you,
if I wasn't me, I’d smell me, too.” He smirked.

I scowled at him.
“Oh my God! Get over yourself!”

I reached down and grabbed my lemon so brutally that a bit of juice leaked into my hand. I held it in front of him and shook it to get his attention.

“Watch how I do this!” I ordered.

“Got it, boss.” He saluted.

I took a deep breath and decided to ignore his remark. I placed the lemon on the cutting block and sliced it in half. I then demonstrated how to use the juicer with half the lemon. As one cup was filling with juice, I grabbed another and walked over to the giant juice jug that contained the club’s signature water-sugar syrup. I explained how much to pour in (approximately half the cup), he watched closely and didn’t make any smart-ass comments. I mixed the syrup in with the fresh lemon juice, then grabbed the other half of the lemon and cut it up.

“The other half we cut it into five wedges and put in the drink along with a scoop of ice,” I told him. I crouched to open the electric freezer underneath the juicer’s table and scooped some ice into the lemonade. Then I pulled out a few frozen pieces of mint. “We add these on top, as a garnish and for taste. And voila, freshly squeezed lemonade with frozen mint.”

He was staring blankly at the drink.

“Can I drink it now?” he asked then suddenly, before I could say
‘no’
, he picked up the drink and downed it. I stepped back in surprise at his level of thirst. I had never seen a person drink so fast. I guess he was a growing boy.

“Easy there,
Tiger,” I suggested softly.

He put down the cup and looked at me with a gentler expression.

“I’m
‘Tiger’
now?” He was grinning again.

Oh shit!

I stood silent, at a loss for words. I hadn’t intended to give him a nickname.

“Um, no, that didn’t come out right, I didn’t mean it!” Minor-ly humiliated, I snatched the cup and walk
ed away from him to the garbage can on the other side of the stand. He followed right behind me.

“Umm, yes.” He mimicked my flustered voice as I threw the
cup in the trash. “It’s okay, Fireball. If it makes you feel any better, I’m okay with
‘Tiger’
. You can call me that anytime you want.” He sat on the edge of the table and smiled wryly at me.

Great, could I have boosted his ego anymore?

“Can you please act serious? I’m not going to call you Tiger.” I put my foot down, catching myself before I did a childish stomp.

He pushed himself off the table and towered over me, invading my personal space. I bit back my bitchy comments about personal space, instead tilting my head back to look up at him.
Who the hell did he think he was, trying to intimidate me with his height? I could play too, with the best of them, and I’d crush them all.

I hoped I could at least.

“Well if you aren’t going to call me Tiger, what are you gonna call me then?” He leaned in closer and I instinctively leaned back.

Putting my hands on my hips, I replied coolly, “I’m going to call you by your name.”

“Yeah, well go ahead. What’s my name?” He sneered.

I opened my mouth but quickly shut it when I realized I’d never asked him his name.

I don’t even know his name…and we’re arguing like we know each other.

“Well, you don’t know my name either. Hypocrite much?” I jerked my chin to him.

He straightened back up and played with the collar of his shirt. He didn’t say anything. It was obvious now that this boy was a child. And since one of us had to be the professional adult, I decided to break first and ask.

I exhaled, feeling exhausted.
“Fine, what’s your name?”

“
Tiger!” he declared and began to laugh.

I leaned forward and shoved his left shoulder with my arm. “Hey, abuse, abuse!” He yelped, laughing even harder.

“You’re an asshole!” I branded him.

He took a brief moment to calm himself down. “Okay, relax. Ask me again.”

“What. Is. Your. Name.” I slowly enunciated each word, hoping to make him feel stupid.

He looked down at me with an amused expression, as if I were the stupid one who dared to even play
that game
with someone of his caliber of smart ass-ness.

He
sighed loudly and looked away. “Oh Fireball, what am I going to do with you?”

When he finally turned his eyes back to me, his expression had chang
ed – it was different, weirder. It made me feel funny. Nevertheless, I was not someone who was going to bow down to his obvious cuteness.

Even if he was really, really, really cute.

“For the last time: what is your name?” I asked, lifelessly.

His lip twitched. “I told you, it’s Ti_
”

“You two!” a voice interrupted loudly.

We spun around to find Shelby standing in front of the cash register with her hands on the counter, giving us glares of destruction.

“Annabelle. You’re supposed to be training James. I don’t see any training going on. I see wasting the only time you’ll probably have available today to train him!” she yelled at us, well, me.

Bitch!

“I’m sorry. I already showed him how make the lemonade.”

I felt
James
move close beside me.

“Oh, so he knows how to make them precisely and efficiently?” Shelby asked with slight hesitation, a strange look in her eyes.

She thought I was full of shit.

I glanced up at James. His eyes never left Shelby’s. I looked back to Shelby. “Yes.” I did a silent a prayer that he’d paid attention.

“Wonderful. Show me, please,” she ordered, indicating the juicer with her chin.

A frozen chill rode a slow elevator from the soles of my feet to the tip of my head. My ears seemed to be the only sense my body could account for. Behind me, I heard shuffling feet and the roar of the juicer.

After a few seconds of listening to the juicer hard at work, I snapped out of my little ‘oh shit’ haze and glanced at Shelby, who now reminded me of skinny blonde troll. It might have been the bulged out nose that seemed to be inhaling everything earthly, including my soul, or maybe it was the giant forehead that had an invisible logo flashing on and off just for me.

The sign
would say, ‘
BITCH!’
in big bright colors.

I heard James come forward, bringing with him a perfectly made lemonade, complete with the mint garnish.

Thank God!

It wasn’t just Shelby
that I was seeing differently. I was in the presence of a hero and he was standing right next to me under the scrutinizing glare of a pissed off, evil troll.

“All finished,” James announced, pushing the cup toward Shelby.

Shelby grunted back a laugh and said, “I’ll be the one to affirm that.”

She picked up the drink and inspected it from every angle imaginable. Then she took a
sip and, instead of swallowing she swished the liquid around her mouth as if she were at a wine tasting.

This wa
s ridiculous!

She eventually swallowed and returned her attention to us. “Not bad. Keep it up, sport. You’ll have it in no time,” she said with a smile and, like the bipolar freak she was, picked up her clipboard and moved on like nothing had happened.

“Sport?’” James repeated, amused.

I shoo
k my head, watching Shelby as she trotted away just like a horse would have after taking a nice, long poo.

Ew
e! Yuck!….mental image. 

James sat on the counter
and I leaned against it, beside him.

“Yeah, that’s Shelby. She’s a supervisor. I don’t know how.” I didn’t understand it and I had a feeling he was thinking that too. “The good thing though, she won’t be back ’til before we have our lunch break.”

“Thank God!” he exclaimed in a relieved sigh.

I laughed at his delivery and glanced up at him.

I stopped laughing.

He was staring down at me with a serious look on his face. I gazed at his beautiful green eyes and he smiled sweetly for the first time. I felt a slow burn around my heart and, without realizing it, my eyes lowered to his lips.
He began to lean down towards me and I didn’t move a muscle. I didn’t know if it was because I was frozen or because I wanted what was about to happen.

Hold on! What the hell!

Move out of the way girl!

You’re not like that!

I
jerked away before he could lean in any further.  “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, shocked.

My eyes were wide, my palms were sweaty, and my knees were jelly. I was experiencing the whole shebang. I breathed heavily and my vision became foggy, and the man hadn’t even gotten his lips on me.

He narrowed his eyes, not smiling sweetly anymore. “Fireball, you shouldn’t have moved. Could have made this work thing more…fun.”

I didn’t know what to say.
I’d never been in a situation like this before. So I decided to do what girls did best: pretend it didn’t happen.

“Let’s just work, okay?” I whispered, still bewildered
but was doing my best to not show it.

For the next hour and a half,
we barely spoke to one another. James and I circled around each other as we took turns making lemonade and handling the cash register. When Shelby came by and told me I was first on lunch, I didn’t say
‘see you later’
to James, I just rushed away.

With everything after meeting James,
I’d forgotten about the ‘amazing’ packed lunch awaiting me. As I opened my locker, I remembered the snack fiasco.

UGH!

I pulled out a Ziploc bag full of carrots and celery, another Ziploc bag with four slices of turkey deli meat tucked in-between one piece of whole wheat toast, and a 250ml bottle of water.