Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Awesome!” Teague glances down at the paper, frowns, then winces. “And the last four of my social are …?”
Liam rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.
Mr. Michelson—the sweetest and most patient man on Earth—jots it down on another neon pink sticky note, peels it off daintily, then hands it to Teague. “Now you be sure to memorize that, then throw away the paper, young man!” His voice is cheery yet soft. “Sure don’t want anyone else to get ahold of your precious login information, of course! They could weasel right into your profile and change you into Captain Banana who works for $1 an hour! Not that my payroll would mind.” He chuckles at his joke and eyes them both. “Oh, I’m just being my old fool self. Y’know, Teague, you remind me of my grandson Harry. He was a real charmer. Brought a different girlfriend with him every holiday.”
Liam wonders for a second if the manager is calling his own grandson a man-whore. And by extension: Teague.
But the comment only makes Teague chuckle right back. “Oh, that’s some good advice, Mr. Michelson! I ought to know my social by now, right? Shame on me. And thanks again so much for hiring me last minute,” he quickly adds, turning up his otherworldly charm ten nauseating degrees. “I am thrilled to be working here alongside some amazing people. Especially Peanut here.”
Peanut.
Liam’s eyes go wide.
Mr. Michelson quirks a bushy gray eyebrow. “Peanut …?”
“Yeah! Peanut! We went to high school together.” Teague glances back and forth between them with confusion. “Wait … You don’t call him that?”
Liam’s jaw tightens to the point of snapping. “No, Teague. No one calls me that anymore. Why would my boss—?”
“But why not? It’s so adorable! You get it, Mr. Michelson? His middle initial?” He gives the man one of his lopsided smiles. “Liam P. Knott. P … Knott. Peanut! Everyone called him that. Even some of the teachers and our assistant principal Mr. Ramos. It’s so cute!”
After an awkwardly long moment of putting it together, Mr. Michelson finally laughs, delighted by the silly play on words—while Liam’s face burns like wildfire with a mixture of fury and humiliation.
Teague, oblivious to Liam’s discomfort, only grins and crosses his arms, satisfied with himself.
Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Well, hey, now!” says Mr. Michelson when he recovers from his laughter. “This works out perfectly! I was going to take some time to show you around myself, but why not let Peanut do it?”
Liam recovers from his anger at once. “Wait.”
“Seeing as you two are friends already, it makes perfect sense to me. And besides, I think I slept wrong last night, I can’t for the life of me work out this knot in the middle of my back. Knot! Knott! Ha! Now I’ve got P. Knott circling around in my head. Why didn’t you tell me that funny little story, Liam? What a delight it is!”
“That sounds great!” agrees Teague, throwing an arm around Liam’s back and startling him. “We’re basically old pals.”
Liam bristles. “Calling us ‘old pals’ is a bit of a stretch.”
The manager rises from his desk. “You’re my best employee here,” he goes on, as if hearing nothing but himself and the noise of rocks turning over in his head, “and I think you’re more than equipped to show Teague how it’s all done. Layout of the store. Stocking duties. Shelves and aisles.”
“Mr. Michelson, please …”
“Now if you don’t mind, Peanut—ah, look at that, just rolls right off the tongue!—please show Teague how to clock in, and then let him shadow you today. Teague, now don’t you leave his side! Not for a second! You’ll get lost in the weeds!”
Teague smiles and gives the man a dorky salute. “You got it!”
Liam can literally feel his blood boiling in his cheeks. “Sir …”
“Oh, I forgot to return a call!” Mr. Michelson exclaims. “One of our sister stores is running low on … something. I may need to send Ben on an errand. Did you hear the rumor they might open a new store next door over in Spruce? Makes one wonder why they haven’t done that already, being where the Strongs are from and all. Anyhow, go on ahead, you two, if you don’t mind. I’ll need the office. I had a burrito from a food truck down the street and do not envy anyone in my immediate vicinity.” He adjusts his glasses, picks up his phone, and begins slowly dialing a number.
There’s no use tempting fate here.
Liam’s fate for the rest of the day—and likely the summer—is as sealed as the tubs of organic fat-free peanut butter no one buys in this town.
Honestly, the only thing Liam wants to do right now is go home, curl up with his phone, and continue his conversation with Hate2LoveU. It started out so good. It felt so promising. And it was interrupted by the worst curveball he could have imagined.