The first day of classes was mostly uneventful. I started with Freshman Writing at nine. Mallory was in it with me, and the professor seemed decent, although he was ancient. Our first assignment was straightforward: a paper about our favorite book. The only problem was I didn't have a favorite book. I know what you're thinking—I'm a ditz or something—but that's not true. I'd simply never found a book that spoke to me enough to be my favorite. I liked a lot of books. I loved A Farewell to Arms and The Quiet American. Now that I think about it, most of the books I liked were about war. I wonder what that says about me? But that's beside the point. I didn't have one favorite.

Our next classes were on opposite sides of the quad, so I said goodbye to Mallory and went in search of my Modern U.S. History class. I found it with five minutes to spare and took my time setting up my laptop.

"Hey, Annie." Reed took a seat next to me.

"Hey. You're in this class?"

"No, I'm just randomly sitting here."

I rolled my eyes. "You're so funny."

"How was the rest of your weekend?"

"It was good." It was. Kind of. The float trip wasn't all bad. I'd learned a lot more about Dylan, and Tally was so psyched about meeting Gregg that we got to have a lot of girl talk that night. It turned out she was really cool. I'd kind of expected Dylan to call or at least text, but he never did. So much for Ryan's speech about how crazy he was about me.

"You're not very talkative today." He said it as a statement and not a question. "But that's okay. I'm not either."

I thought about asking him why, but that went against the whole not being talkative thing. Class went by in a blur, and before I knew it, we were walking out.

"I'll see you at work at five-thirty."

I appreciated the reminder. "All right. I'll see you then."

He grinned. "Almost forgot about your first day of work?"

"Second. You said Friday night counted."

"Fair enough. I'll see you later." He waved before heading off in the opposite direction.

***

"How skanky does this look?" I checked myself in the mirror again.

"Hmm, it depends on your skankiness scale." Cara laughed from where she lounged on my bed.

"Do you want my opinion?" Tally turned in her desk chair where she'd been working on a paper.

"Yes."

"You've got nice boobs—show them off."

I laughed. "Wow, I wasn't expecting that answer."

"What? I'm flat as a board. If I had what you do, I'd flaunt them." Tally might have had a small chest, but she had an incredible body. I wished for legs like hers.

I took another look at myself in my too-small Al's Pizza t-shirt. "I can't believe it shrunk. I was going to ask Reed for more anyway..."

Cara sat up cross-legged. "I don't think he'll have a problem with the shirt."

"I don't really have a choice now. I'm supposed to be at work in fifteen minutes."

"At least you'll get good tips." Tally shrugged.

"If anyone actually comes in. I don't understand why I need to be there before nine o'clock, but if they want to pay me for sitting on my butt, I'm all for it."

Cara laughed. "Have fun."

"Will do."

I grabbed a zip-up sweatshirt on my way out the door so I'd have it for my walk home. I headed straight through the center of campus. It was pretty deserted. I made it to Al's with a few minutes to spare.

"Hey, Ms. Oakley." Reed didn't look up from his book when I walked in.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Who else would come in now?"

"So you were being serious? We're not going to have customers for hours?"

"Nope. I always prep, but trust me, we won't need to touch anything until at least eight."

I stopped next to the counter. "I'm glad I brought my books."

"Good." He finally glanced up. "Wow...you know how to make a t-shirt look good."

"Shut up."

"What? I don't remember it looking quite so good the other day."

"I somehow managed to shrink it. When you give me my other shirts, I'll need an extra."

"Would you mind shrinking them all? It might make work more interesting." He grinned.

"You know, I really thought you were a decent guy, but maybe you are a jerk and—"

"Hold that thought." He walked into the back and came back with a handful of shirts.

"Take your pick."

"Thanks. Sorry about the jerk thing."

"I had it coming."

I pulled out a few articles we had to read for history class and noticed that Reed was reading the same thing. When I finished, I put them away and messed around on my phone.

Reed set aside his work. "Want to learn how to make a perfect Al's Pizza?"

"I thought I wasn't going to be cooking?"

"You're not. But maybe you'll have to one day."

"All right. Why not?" I stuffed my phone into my back pocket.

"We make the dough in big batches ahead of time, so it's really not hard." Reed walked into the back and stopped in front of a large, deep sink. He washed his hands, and I did the same.

"The fridges and freezers are back here." He disappeared around the corner, and I followed. He opened a large refrigerator and pulled out a container of dough. "Do you know how to toss a pizza?"

"Do I look like I know?" I bit back a smile. I had a feeling he actually enjoyed his tutorial.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"I have no clue."

He went through it step by step. He rolled out the dough and made me try to toss it. I dropped in on the table twice before I got it.

"You're a fast learner."

"Yeah, you know, I have mad skills."

He let me do the sauce and cheese part myself. I think he found the whole thing amusing. It was a nice distraction from my school work. Still, I was more than happy to let him take over after the first pie. I took a seat and watched him make a couple more. "The guys will make the rest when they come in. What do you want for dinner?"

"Does it honestly taste that bad? Do you knowingly serve horrible pizza?"

"Want to find out?"

"Not particularly, but I guess it's important to actually know what I'm selling."

Reed took the first pizza to one of the industrial ovens. Twenty minutes later, we sat in a booth with the pie between us.

Reed grinned. "Dig in."

"Should I be scared?"

"It's not going to make you sick or anything. It's just not the best pizza ever."

He was right. It tasted like a cheap frozen pizza from the grocery store. "Point taken. I won't ask again."

He laughed. "I think there's something about the dough that makes it actually taste good when you're drunk, but when you're sober, not so much."

"What do we do now?"

"Clean up, and do more work."

"I really think I'm going to get used to this."