Girl You Fucked Before (18+)

Phone Sex

Matt

Twenty-eight thousand and eight-hundred seconds. That was how long it took Aimee to ask me the question.

"What happened to your face?" She inquired, eyeing me as she counted out the stack of bills lying on the counter before her.

Screwing the cap back onto a bottle of ketchup I was refilling, I ignored her.

She licked her index finger, carefully separating the paper money. "Well regardless, you're still gorgeous as sin. Do you want to go see a movie after we're done closing up?"

I nodded at the pile of quarters she was now painstakingly slowly making her way through. "Can you just finish counting your drawer so we can get the hell out of here?"

"So, that's a yes then?" She questioned, tucking a wavy crimson lock behind her ear, and smiling at me wickedly.

I rubbed at my temples, thinking that I truly didn't have the patience for her tonight. "No. That's a 'I have a headache so please hurry the fuck up so I can go home.' "

She pouted her glossy lips at me before resuming her task. "You're no fun. When we first met, you were actually cool and now you're lame as hell. No spontaneity left in you."

"I don't care," I replied, gathering up the condiment bottles in my arms and walking around to the booths to disperse them. "I'm not here to entertain Aimee. I'm here to get a paycheck."

Rolling her eyes, she brushed aside the money, resetting her count. Then hopped up onto the counter and began swinging her legs. For fuck's sake. I'm going to lose it. "What can I do to convince you to go out with me?"

Pausing in my tracks, I have her a quizzical look. She can't be serious. "You can do your fucking job, for starters," I murmured beneath my breath.

Just then the bell above the door chimed and we both whirled around to see who had come in at five minutes before closing, feeling entitled to be served. "I'll have a small pepperoni pizza with a large side of curly fries," Addison beamed as she strode into the restaurant.

She clapped her hands in front of my face. "Chop, chop, Mattie. Every second you waste standing there gawking at me is another penny that gets deducted from your tip."

I crossed my arms and stared at her, refusing to budge. "Hysterical, Addie. But unfortunately for you, I'm just the busboy." I gestured at Aimee. "She's the waitress and personally I don't give a damn what you tip her."

Addison suddenly gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. "Oh my god! Your face! What the hell happened to your eye? Don't you think you're taking your love affair with the color black a tad too far?"

Quickly turning to wipe down a table several feet away from her so that my bruise was disguised, I shrugged. "I fell," I replied, deadpan.

She arched a brow at me. "Into someone's fist? Names, Matt. I need names. A few minutes alone with them and I promise they will never bother you again."

With force, I chucked the wet rag into a nearby bin before snatching up a tray of dirty plates. "Will you two quit hounding me? I tripped over my shoelace and took a tumble down the stairs, smashing my face onto the railing post in the process. Alright?"

How could I admit that I had gotten the shit beaten out of me by my two high school tormentors? I couldn't.

Aimee and Addison exchanged skeptical glances and I knew they thought me to be a liar but despite the lack of filters on both their mouths, neither one chose to challenge my statement.

At least for that moment.

As soon as Aimee drove off in her little red corvette, blowing kisses at us, Addison gently reached out to touch my arm as I was turning the key in the front doorknob. "Now that Ginger Spice is gone, tell me the truth." She waved at my face. "What happened?"