No matter how many times I washed my starchy, work uniform, greasy and over-processed food smells permeated from the scratchy fabric. The vertical, near-blinding stripes clashed with the fire-engine red 'pepperonis' that slipped down my chest like nipple pasties of shame.

"Welcome to Pizza Palace, where your pizza is our palace pleasure."

Lamest greeting ever.

"Eleanor," a feminine voice greeted me in a coy tone, paired with flashing blue-gray eyes I wanted to punch my fist into.

"Camille," I pushed out through gritted teeth.

Wearing the oily glow of a new facial, she looked extra...extra today. Her potent hairspray and vanilla perfume burned my nose from across the counter, and her low-cut, baby-pink shirt was so tight, I was surprised her boobs didn't pop out. Surprisingly alone, her bimbo squad was nowhere in sight.

Or, sort of alone.

A pink leather bag hung tucked under her right armpit. Two beady little eyes inside peered at me.

"Camille." I frowned at her dog-in-a-bag. "We don't allow pets here."

Before she answered, the door swung open and another blonde, gray-blue-eyed girl entered. With rounder features, she looked a few years younger than Camille, and my heart sank at the possibility she was some kind of assistant to our school's queen bee.

My eyes narrowed. She looked familiar, and not for being a mini-Camille. Where did I know her from?

"Francesca is not a pet." Camille huffed, crossing her arms and squishing a line of cleavage halfway up to her neck. Noticing me glancing between her dog and smaller friend, she rolled her eyes. "Like my little sister Emma, she's family."

Sister? And, for fuck's sake, it was more of a rat than a dog.

I shifted my attention from the armpit dog to Emma's face when recognition struck me. She approached Harper and me during a Santa Cruz game of the season. She'd pretended to be interested in learning about the game when she was interested in Brody, disappearing once we'd told her he was single. Harper had joked that they were perfect for each other because all they'd do was blush and stare at each other.

Deceit aside, she was cute, shy, and blushed at hearing Brody's name. How could she be related to Camille?

"Where's my order?" Her voice snapped my attention back to her.

"Small cauliflower crust with no cheese and extra veggies and a side salad, dressing on the side?" As soon as the slip had printed, the order screamed her name, and I'd already bagged up her food. "Fourteen-fifty."

Turning, I grabbed her salad from the minifridge and her pizza under the lamp warmer that heated the entire counter area like a freaking sauna.

"Extra balsamic vinegar, Eleanor." Her syrupy voice grated on my ears like sandpaper. I grabbed extra dressing packets, plastered a pained smile, and delivered her order.

She peered inside the bag and frowned. "No, the lite ones."

I grabbed the fat-free vinaigrette, which wasn't balsamic but went along with the 'customer is always right, no matter how annoying' mantra, and pushed her bags across the counter.

"You could eat a bit less pizza yourself, Eleanor." She winked a false eyelash at me and swiped her parents' debit card. I couldn't have masked my glowering scowl if I tried, and she clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Just looking out for you. Salesian girls are quite catty about appearances. I'd hate for someone to upset you, Eleanor."

'Call me Eleanor one more time, and I'll shove that vinaigrette where the sun doesn't shine,' I wanted to say, but instead pushed out in my fakest voice, "Thanks. I didn't know you cared."

"I know you think I'm some kind of manipulator." Making the biggest understatement of the year, she flipped a platinum strand over her shoulder. "But I could be very helpful for you and your boy toy's images. My gossip blog—"

"No, thank you." I stayed glued to the spot and clenched my fists under the counter, enjoying the mental image of launching myself over the counter and tackling her ovaries. "Logan and I are fine."

"If you say so." She picked up her phone. "The thing about certain pictures is, within a given context, they look anything but fine."

"For example, exhibit A." Her screen flashed me the picture Jake had shown me days ago, of me and Harper leaving the clinic. "There's all kinds of spins a juicy photo like this could take."

So, she'd sent it to him. Was she stalking me?

Clenching my fists, a burst of pain erupted where my nails gouged my palms. Camille always had an angle, but when my lips parted, she smiled. "You're lucky your brother covered for you and Harper this time." She picked up her order, swaying her hips out of the restaurant with Emma in tow. "Be a shame if someone got the wrong impression, Eleanor."

Ooh, she was unbelievable. I groaned as soon as the door clicked shut. My skin itched as I crossed my arms, rubbing them against the stupid red pepperonis on my shirt.

"Teenagers are our business, Elle." Derrick dropped a box of something on the counters. "No matter how much you pretend you aren't one."

"What's this?" I eyed the box.

"New product." He pulled out a flat, thin, circular crust wrapped in cellophane and held it in my line of vision. "Broccoli crust."

Broccoli and crust didn't belong in the same sentence together. My nose wrinkled.

"Don't knock it until you've tried it."

I leaned against the counter, keeping my arms crossed. "Have you ever considered, maybe our pizzas would taste better if everything wasn't pre-assembled and shipped frozen?"

"I'll consider anything if it's profitable. These are just samples." He signaled behind me, where Max stood in the warming area with two paper plates.

My stomach churned at the sight of the plain cheese slices flopping over the plate edges like the crust was pliable rubber. Gross.

"Try it." Derrick passed me a plate. "Before casting your judgment."

The smell of processed cheese, canned tomato paste, and frozen-then-thawed broccoli held nothing pleasant or appetizing. Still, to be polite, I peeled off my gloves, tossed them into the under-counter trash can, and bit into my slice.

I should've eaten the cardboard box.

"Derrick." I choked and spit my bite onto the plate. "This tastes worse than the plastic wrap it came in. Where do you get this processed stuff from?"

"The bulk order distributor."

They should stick to distributing, not inventing food products. "Have you ever thought about spending more so the food tastes better? Like real cheese? Or, a different sauce than tomato paste?"

Max spit out his trial bite and tossed his plate into the trash.

"Lower profit margins," was our boss' canned response, his lips barely flinching.

"Could we just try a real taste test? I'll even pay for the ingredients," I was borderline begging. "If I make something that tastes better, can you please consider a menu change?"

Anything would taste better than this shit.

"What about the price margins?" His eyes narrowed.

"I'll recalculate the price so you keep the same margins." While I wasn't the one paying the bills, there had to be a better, more edible option.

"Fine." Derrick's red curls bobbed as he grabbed the box off the counter.

"Thank you," Max said when the door chime sounded.

Another tall, thin, leggy, and large-busted blonde entered, although this one looked like she wanted to murder someone in the parking lot. Given who she was, I skipped the horrible greeting.

"Harper?"

"I just saw Tits McGee and mini-Tits." She sounded offended. "And almost puked in the parking lot when I ran into her giant chesticles. Who knew Brody's first stalker was that Botox-stuffed heffer's sister?"

"I didn't know she had a sister." I stepped closer as she stood at the counter. Her hair was pulled in a high ponytail, the red tips dipping behind her shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

Her chest lifted, similarly-sized to Camille's but Harper's breasts were home-grown. She'd hated them when they grew in overnight during middle school, but now she probably used them as her biggest... asset. They jiggled as she sighed and rested her elbows on the counter. "Dad's working late, and I couldn't stand any more of that Hallmark Channel movie shit with Carol, so..."

Her eyes studied the menu, and she cringed as she slapped a credit card on the counter. "Give me three sets of the least offensive menu item, please."

"Probably the grilled chicken Caesar salad," I offered. "Logan's go-to order, because it's mostly originally sourced chicken."

While I was pretty sure the grill marks were painted on, at least the lettuce was fresh.

"Where is your corner booth stalker?" She glanced at Logan's empty seat.

"He's on his way." Just the admission put a flutter in my chest.

"I don't want to interrupt that sickening eye gaze thing you do at each other, so make it to go."

"We don't..." Mom had said something similar about gooey looks between me and Logan. Maybe we did?

"You do," Harper answered with a smirk.

"I'm glad you're smiling."

"Because I'm not around your dickhead brother anymore." Her mouth turned down into a scowl. "You wouldn't believe what he had the balls to ask me after school today. It's almost like he thinks—"

"Order up!" Max called behind me.

Bagging Harper's salads, I caught his interest brewing her. "Don't even think about it," I warned him as I grabbed three silverware packages. "This one will eat you alive."

"I'd probably thank her for it," he mumbled, waving.

"She's right." Harper's eyes roamed over Max's greasy appearance. "I'd chew you a new asshole before you missed the old one."

"Some guys are into kink." His smile made me choke on the grease-humid air.

"And so are some girls." She winked at Max, mouthed 'Fuck no' to me, and left.

"She's your friend?" The slight hope in poor Max's voice made me wrinkle my nose.

"Don't," I warned him with a dismissive wave. "Just don't go there."

"Figures." His smile faded. I would've felt sorry for him had he not placed his hands on his hips, flashing two armpit sweat stains on his uniform shirt. "Hot girls only go out with jocks in my school, like football and basketball players."

I didn't want to falsely lead him on by revealing how much Harper wanted nothing to do with jocks, but instead feebly offered, "You'll find, umm... someone, Max."

"You think so, Eleanor?" His head tilted and he gave me a visual inspection. "If you and Logan don't work out—"

Fortunately, the door chime interrupted him. The freakishly tall, wide-framed, muscular, and blonde-haired football player who only had eyes for me put a huge smile on my face.

"Logan," I said, my voice breathy like a dreamy sigh.

"Hi, baby." The sparkles in those ocean-blue eyes were such a compliment.

Seeing him for the first time since the dance, my cheeks burned a few degrees warmer. All he wore was a faded gray Salesian football T-shirt and black athletic pants, but my eyes appreciated the view of his muscular frame pulling both taut. And, of course, a charming smirk.

"Max, grilled chicken Caesar salad, no croutons, extra cheese, lite dressing."

Logan's hair was damp after practice, and he carried his gray backpack full of today's homework. After he paid for the salad, which he did no matter how many times I'd told him it was on the house, he grabbed a large water cup and set up in his corner table.

"Elle, clean the lobby and empty the trash after running his order out." Back from putting his nasty broccoli crusts in the freezer, Derick nodded at Logan's salad as Max placed it within reach. I slid it onto a tray with silverware and tucked some napkins under the plate.

Reaching Logan's table, his eyes were on me with a heavier expression than normal. His eyes were half-lowered, and he rolled a pencil in his fingers without delving into his open homework. Maybe he was tired?

I slid his tray beside his open AP Statistics book. "Here you go."

"Thanks."

His weighted gaze hadn't wavered, so I lingered and studied him for clues. Had something happened? A confrontation? "Everything okay?"

He blinked a few times and shook his head, but his smile was unconvincing. It wasn't sad, more pensive and preoccupied like the faraway look in his eyes. "I'm glad to see you."

"Me too." I smiled, internally wishing I could give him more, like lots and lots of kisses for the days apart this week. "Derrick asked me to clean the lobby, so I'll be right back."

His only response was a silent nod. Never being this quiet, it was kinda weird.

I mulled over what possibly bothered him inside the cleaning supply cabinet, where I grabbed the cleaner bottle, rags, and two new trash bags. Of course, the trash overflowed from the lunch crowd.

"Gross," I whispered and cringed, pulling out the first can, peeling the bag off the edges, and giving myself a big aerosol whiff of trash as I punched down the overflow.

It smelled like minimum wage wrapped up in humility and self-reflection about one's employment choices.

"How was practice?" I asked as I tied down the first bag, gagging as the second one had a dirty diaper placed on top.

The deepest inhale through my mouth didn't help as I punched down that bag, wafting the rancid smell over my face. Out of all possibilities, Grace's 'No grandkids' warning flashed through my thoughts.

"Yeah." Logan's eyes twinkled, probably amused at me holding my breath, puffing my cheeks, and lifting the second bag with a grunt. "Need some help, baby?"

"No." I finally exhaled. "It's just extra smelly today. Be right back."

Two steps toward the door, quiet drips splattered on the floor. The bag in my right hand was leaking, most likely from someone's soda by the brown liquid, but it leaked a small trail toward the exit.

Outside, I could breathe better, but my forearms wobbled as I extended them, hoping I didn't drip on my feet. Reaching the back bins, I groaned at the wiggled liquid trail over the parking lot.

So gross.

I heaved each bag into the dumpster with a grunt. It was a gross endeavor, but oddly satisfying, and I swung my arms while returning inside. Replacing the bags, I washed my hands and returned to the supply cabinet for the mop and wet floor signs.

College, Ellie. College.

The weight of Logan's gaze followed my return, pricking the hairs on my neck. Goosebumps followed as if an invisible touch skimmed over my skin.

I mopped the immediate spill, placed the tripod floor signs, and moved the mop aside to clean the tables. Logan's penetrating stare hadn't budged after I'd cleaned three tables, so I stopped at his table with my hands on my hips.

"What?"

He shook his head and blinked. "What what?"

"What's crawled up your butt?" I pointed at him. "And don't say nothing because I know it's something."

"I just..." He gave an apologetic smile. "Feel bad for you. Your job sucks."

"Could be worse," I mumbled. He frowned, so I jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. "Max is cleaning the grease traps tonight."

"Ellie." He wasn't amused.

"It sucks, but it's not permanent." I moved to another table. "Every minimum wage hour helps for college."

He propped his chin on his fist, studying me while I cleaned the last tables and retrieved the mop. "Did you apply to the University of Washington?"

"Yeah, online." I nodded, sloshing the mop and flopping it into the corner. "After I got home from Mary's House."

I'd also viewed a virtual tour. Despite being thirteen hours away, UW looked like a beautiful campus. Perfect for any undecided major looking for distance away from her parents, but the out-of-state tuition was a huge concern.

"Everything...go okay?"

His hesitation was understandable, given the charity's mission and services. I hadn't figured out how to tell him we were talking about sex though, blushing at the reminder.

Despite his curiosity, again understandable, Logan never pushed me to discuss what happened at Mary's House meetings, which I appreciated. Hopefully, he knew I trusted him, but did he need every detail? He certainly didn't have Jake's short fuse, the topics were heavy and sometimes I even felt helpless, which would feel compounded were I in Logan's shoes.

"Yeah." Mopping close to his table, I poked his long legs so he lifted them. "We'll talk later?"

He nodded, so I gazed at his books, and he got the message. Once he started his homework, I fell silent so he could work. I'd gotten a good head start during Harper's nap on Sunday, so tonight, I only had reading assignments.

One hour and two cleaner grease traps later, I grabbed my purse, clocked out, and said goodnight to Max and Derrick. Poor Max smelled worse than I did, his face dripping with what I hoped was sweat.

Logan stood with one hand on the door, bag packed and over his shoulder, when I passed by the counter. My heartbeat quickened while he held the door open for me. My head tucked under his extended arm and I threw him a grateful smile on my way out.

Under the dim glow of the parking lot, my heart pounded faster with each step toward my car. This was my favorite and least favorite part of my day, exchanging our real hellos and goodbyes, but the possibility of feeling him against me made my skin tingle.

Like he'd infiltrated my brain.

I removed my work hat, fluffed my greasy hair, and fixed my ponytail. Tossing my stuff onto my passenger's seat, I slammed the door and grabbed Logan's shirt.

"Elli-mph."

I tugged to me and kissed his lips hard.

A gentle thud sounded from his dropped bag. His hands grasped my waist, the strength of his fingers denting my skin. I inhaled as our lips locked, parted mine, and relaxed everywhere when his tongue met mine. Trembling, I leaned back against my car and pulled his hips flush with mine.

His hard, heated body covered mine in the best way possible. It was so warm, strong, and secure that I shuddered. My pulse sprinted when his forearm braced the top of my car, and the other hand gave my hip an appreciative squeeze. Releasing his shirt, I palmed his chest and clutched behind his neck. Even through my uniform's itchy fabric, my skin ignited from his weight securing me, his hard chest and stomach muscles pressing into my softer... not muscles.

My nipples were aching where they brushed his chest, and with one flinch, his hips rolled into mine in the most frustrating contact. One rub flushed me with heat and made my skin sensitive. Rubbing back, I used his hard bulge to build friction and satisfy the frustration growing between my legs, lighting up the contact point with pulsing aches.

More, my body screamed as if it had a silent voice.

At my low hum, he broke off. "Shit, Ellie, sorry I'm fucking sprung."

I cut him off again by tugging him back, desperate for resumed contact. After one long, scorching kiss, I pulled back to assure him, "I thought we decided it's a compliment."

His hand on my hip cupped my face, the pad of his thumb stroking my cheek with the sweetest touch. He swallowed, his eyes looking as strained as his voice sounded, "You have no idea how much I want to do more than this."

"I have some idea," I teased, wiggling my hips against his hardness.

"Ellie." Torment burned in his eyes, his arm muscles clenched near my temple, and he groaned. "Probably isn't the best place for this."

His words were an instant ice bath. Even though it was now dark outside, we stood in the Pizza Palace parking lot. What was I thinking? I wasn't, only acting.

"You're right." Shame burning through me, I pressed a kiss under his jawline, sliding sideways along my car to put a few inches between us.

"Trust me, baby." Turning his head, his hand squeezed a tight fist, etching his forearm with shadows. The muscles in his neck bobbed with another swallow. "Fuck," he cursed and adjusted his pants between his legs. "I more than want to."

"So do I." I stepped further away for more breathing space and heaved a sigh to calm my frustrated, disappointed body.

"Are you ready for more?" Darkening with night closing around us, his eyes were a mix of pleading frustration and tempered restraint.

"I..." I bit my lip. "Guess we should talk about a few things, huh?"

"Yeah." He ran a hand over his hair, rubbing the back of his neck. "We should."

"For a teenage guy." My smile felt half-hearted smile. "You have a remarkable amount of restraint."

"Because I'm not worried about me, Ellie," he murmured, a small trace of sadness slipping into his voice. "I don't want to mess this up. You're kind of a long-term interest."

His words triggered a reminder in my brain. I hadn't told him about the latest round of broken relationships.

"Oh." My hand flew to my mouth. "I meant to tell you earlier. Chloe and Jake broke up. Day after Homecoming, just like Harper."

His brow furrowed. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know," I admitted, having not seen her all week but we didn't share any classes. "I only ever see her in the bathroom."

"Not Chloe," he said. "Harper. I saw her on my way in tonight. She looked okay."

"Oh..." My heart flipped at his concern for my best friend. Over the phone, I'd only told him that she and Ryan had broken up. "Yeah, she... had a condom scare. I took her to a clinic, where she got a morning-after pill."

"Shit, I'm sorry." His eyes immediately grayed with concern. "If you need to see her instead of me this week, feel free."

"Thanks." I sighed. "I'll let you know."

Another girl's night might be good for Harper.

"As for Jake, that sucks." He spoke without any surprise or remorse. If anything, a tiny amount of relief flashed in his eyes, but no other emotion.

"You're not surprised."

"They were arguing at Homecoming."

"So, if we argue, that's it?" I teased and wrapped my arms around his waist. "Now I see why you're so sensitive about not screwing up."

"No, Ellie." He leaned over, kissed my head, and enveloped his arms around my shoulders. "You're stuck with me. I wouldn't drive an hour each way two school nights a week just to smell your... pepperonis."

I laughed and palmed his chest, pushing him off. "My ugly uniform stinks, I stink. I get it."

"I've smelled a little like this place when I get home." The corners of his lips curled upwards. "But you know why I'm here."

My heart thumped, not at his words, but what they implied. I dipped my chin, encouraging him through lowered lashes. "Enlighten me."

Say it Logan, my mind screamed.

Wait, why wasn't I saying it first? This was so stupid, Ellie. Stop being stupid.

Now I was overthinking with myself.

Instead, he hugged me into his chest, where I groaned and bumped my nose into the divot between his pecs. "We'll talk later, baby. I've kept you late enough."

Ugh, this was the worst part. I closed my eyes and inhaled, snuggling into his chest. A lump compressed my throat from the familiar aching sadness of missing him. "This part sucks."

His arms squeezing around me assured me he hated this part just as much, but grew my ache bigger. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Like always, he opened my car door,kissed me, and waved as I pulled away.

Also, like always, tears blurred his reflection in my rearview mirror.