Just A Small Town Girl: A New Adult Romantic Comedy by Jessica Pine Read Free Book Online Page B

was as wry as ever.
     "Lindsay, right?" he said.
     I nodded, but even that was unconvincing, so that I ended up resembling a goose with something stuck it its throat. "Lacie," I croaked. "My name's Lacie."
     "Right," he said. "Lacie. I'm here about the seasonal job, so um..." He stuck out a hand and I took it, my mouth hanging open like a carp's; it's always interesting when a woman meets a man who puts her in touch with her inner zoo.
     "Is this gonna be awkward?" he said. "Because I really need this job."
     "No, no," I said. "Not awkward at all. Fine."
     "Good. Because we may have gotten off on the wrong foot..."
     I studiously ignored the 'gotten off' part of the sentence. "Well, yeah," I said. "We didn't...you know...um. Not so much foot as feet - and my feet weren't even on the floor so..."
     He was wincing again.
     "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"
     "You are," he said. "God. Wow. That is...terrible. Do you have that thing that makes you shout out inappropriate stuff?"
     "Tourette's Syndrome?" I shook my head. "No. I think it's a brain tumor, actually. Or it always is when I look it up on the internet."
     "You should probably stop looking it up on the internet then."
     "Yes. Everyone does say that, yes."
      The silence that followed was nothing short of a level of social hell that Dante Alighieri had definitely never experienced, otherwise it would have figured heavily in the Inferno - probably as part of the punishments for the lustful, the fornicators and adulterers, all those unwary, gland-driven types who would probably fuck a fire-hydrant if it put on a dress and the some lipstick. Here are the damned that engage crotch before mouth, doomed to uncomfortable silence for all eternity. I found myself wondering how that might translate into medieval Italian, and how best to fit it to terza rima, which was an odd line of thought for me but better than the one I was currently trying to avoid.
     There are some words that are almost impossible to say. The brain registers them and knows that they must be said, but when you go to say them it's as if your lips refuse to move, your tongue refuses to leave the floor of your mouth and your throat won't make the noises you need it to make. Everything above the neck puts up the maximum resistance, because you know that once you say those words the world won't be the same again. Currently 'I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name,' was riding high on the list of things I never wanted to have to say - not quite as high as 'I have cancer,' or 'In two weeks the human race will be extinct', but up there with 'Did you have a cat? Because I have some bad news'.
     I realized there was no way to admit that I didn't know his name without looking like the sluttiest slut that ever did slut. Forget Madame Bovary - Hester Prynne, c'est moi.
     For a brief, mad second I considered taking a wild guess. Paul? John? Ringo? Havelock Maximillian Kittenplan III? Fortunately Aunt Cassandra introduced me to the novel experience of being pleased to see her and delurked from behind the armoire she'd been pretending to dust.
     "Hiiii," she said, practically vibrating with glee. "You must be Clayton, right?"
     "Clayton," I said. "Yes. This is Clayton. Clayton, this is my Aunt Cassandra."
     He threw me a look of appalled pity. As soon as his back was turned I stuffed my fist in my mouth and sank down beneath my laptop.
     Cassandra took him into the back to talk to my Dad, while I stared vacantly at my laptop screen and wondered what were the odds that we'd hire the guy with whom I'd had a frenzied one night stand while stoned out of my apparently tiny mind. Actually the more I thought about it, it wasn't that unlikely. When your state capital only needs one high school and one elementary then you can officially call yourself a small-town state. And small towns have a way of bleeding into one another.
     He came back in looking sheepish.
     "You got the job, didn't you?" I