Free Where the Road Takes Me by Jay McLean

that?” he said into my ear. He pulled back slightly and searched my face. Then he licked his lips. I felt the wetness of them on my forehead but for only a second before Blake’s throat clearing made him step away. Josh winked at him over my shoulder. “Later, Fucktard.”
    Then he was gone.
    I turned to Blake. “You switched shifts?”
    He shrugged. “I didn’t have a say. Management decides who works where.”
    “Bullshit.”
    He tried to hide his smile.
    I walked away before he could see mine.
    He followed as I made my way to the storeroom to put my bag away. “So, don’t think I’m an asshole, but I got you something,” he said.
    Placing my bag in an empty locker, I turned to him. “Why would I think you’re an asshole?”
    He opened his locker, two down from mine, and pulled out something green. It was the same green as our uniform. “I brought you an old shirt. Not because I don’t— It has nothing to do with what you’re currently wearing. I just thought . . . because I’ve noticed the way you dress and it just—You don’t seem comfortable . . . in something like that?” He jerked his head at my chest. “I’m an ass. Never mind.” He threw the shirt back in his locker, slammed it shut, and started to walk away.
    “No. Wait!” I went after him.
    He stopped but didn’t turn to me. Not until after I watched his shoulders heave a couple times. When he finally did, his jaw was clenched tight and his eyes held an emotion I couldn’t decipher. I waited for his expression to change—to switch to something that was more comforting. It didn’t. Not until I felt forced to take a step back. “I’d appreciate it if you would let me wear it.”
    He blinked once, and the intensity in his eyes disappeared.
    “Yeah.” He nodded slowly, and a slight smile appeared. “It’s yours.”
    He took the top out of his locker but didn’t give it to me. Instead, he positioned the neck hole over my head and slowly pulled the shirt down—dressing me, like you would a kid. It should have made me angry or at least annoyed, but I simply put my arms through the sleeves. Then he took a step back, his gaze roaming up and down my body. The heat of my blush engulfed my cheeks. I ignored it. Just like I ignored the pounding of my heart and the lack of air in my lungs.
    He moved forward until there was nothing between us. No more steps. No space. No air. Nothing.
    And then he placed his hand on my waist.
    I wanted to pull back. I wanted to tell him that it was wrong and that we couldn’t. That I couldn’t.
    But I didn’t do a thing.
    “I like you in my clothes, Not Abby.”
    Then he turned around and walked away.
    I sucked in a breath and held it. Then forcefully blew it out, along with any thoughts of what his presence, and what his words, did to me.
    Blake
    I knew that I was making it too obvious, but I just didn’t give a shit anymore. I wanted to say something stupid and have her laugh at it. I wanted to do something nice and have her appreciate it. Because in the past four years that we’d been in the same place almost every day, I had never noticed her. Not even a little bit. And to me—it felt like there were four years of her life I needed to know about. Four years of not paying attention to make up for. But it wasn’t just that. Deep down, I knew she was the only person in the entire world I wanted to notice me.
    She leaned her forearms on the counter next to me, mirroring my position, and stared out on to the lanes. “Does Hannah ever come and visit you at work?” I looked at her. A strand of hair had come loose behind her ear. My fingers itched to touch it, but she beat me to it, turning to face me at the same time. Her eyebrows were raised, waiting. She had asked me a question. What had she said?
    “So?”
    “Huh?” I needed to get my shit together.
    She smirked. “Hannah? Your girlfriend? Does she ever visit you at work?”
    I straightened up. “Why do you keep asking about her?”
    “Why