“Love it.”
“I can only do shrimp cocktail with lots of sauce.”
“Have you ever tried anything else?”
“Not really, although I did work in a seafood restaurant one summer and tried clams on the half shell.” I stick my tongue out.Yuck.
“Okay, so starting with raw clams might not be the best way to introduce yourself to seafood.” She laughs.
“It smells funny.”
“You just have to have it prepared right.”
“Can you cook?” I question.
“Yes, can you?”
“Yes. Everything except seafood.”
“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that. I wouldn’t mind some homemade shrimp scampi.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you teach me how to make it.” I lean in closer to her. Our shoulders touch. I’m relieved when she doesn’t shy away.
The sun has started to set, lighting up the skyscrapers across the bay. They’re all pink and orange and blue. Creating this breathtaking, dazzling glare.
“This is really beautiful,” Alana marvels, looking out over the water.
“Amazing.” I stare at her, not noticing the sunset at all.
She does a double take. “Why are you staring at me like that?” she asks bashfully, and it’s the most adorable thing I have ever seen.
“Like what?” I reply with a goofy grin.
“Like that.”
“I guess I like you.”
“Oh,” she mutters, and I can tell my answer threw her for a loop. She looks away and takes another swig of her lemonade, the colors of the sunset reflecting off her mirrored sunglasses.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.” She’s totally lying. “I’m just not used to people being so direct with their feelings.”
“I’m not usually so direct,” I admit.You do weird things to me.
The sun has finished setting. The only light left is the muted rays behind the clouds in the west. Alana takes off her sunglasses, and I finally get to see her eyes. Those warm reddish-brown eyes that saturate your soul when she looks at you directly.
“What’s causing the phenomenon?”
“You, I guess.”
Alana’s cheeks turn red, but her face is emotionless. “How long have you been bartending?” she inquires, changing the subject.
“About three years,” I answer, a little frustrated. It feels like she’s shutting me out. “That seafood restaurant, I was a waiter, but there was this older bartender, Beth. She was pretty cool. She would teach me and Mac when it was slow.”
“You were a waiter too?”
“I’ve been a lot of things. Gas station attendant, waiter, busboy, janitor, construction worker. You name it, I’ve done it.”