Dirty Secret #85

I had a relationship with a professional hockey player.

The very last summer I spent where I grew up instead of Athens, I got a job delivering pizzas. The price of gas hadn't blown out of proportion yet, making it a very lucretive summer job.

My very first day on the job sends me into one of the nicer neighborhoods. There, swamped in the ugliest red polo that's ever touched my skin, I rang the doorbell and it was answered by a very large and very hairy boy. He looked me up and down and grinned.

"You're the hottest pizza delivery person I've ever seen!"

I looked down and tugged uncomfortably at my polo. It reached my knees. I was clothed in a red tent that gave me no figure. "Um, thanks," I shrugged, completely not believing him.

I handed over the pizza and he looked at me expectantly, "Where's the Coke? I also ordered a two-liter."

My eyes widened. It was my first day and tasks like checking tickets and grabbing two-liters out of the fridge completely eluded me. "I'm so sorry, but I forgot it. When I return to the store, I'll take it off your bill."

"No."

"What?"

"No. I ordered a Coke and I want it." His voice changed tone, from stern to flirty, "You'll just have to bring it back by later."

"Um, okay." I didn't want the people at the store to know I messed up, so I thought I could just drop it off during one of my other runs.

"When do you get off of work?"

"9:30."

"So I'll see you at 10 then?"

I had been home from school for a few weeks and hadn't gotten out much. My friends were all back at school or had gone to their respective homes. Besides, I wasn't even on speaking terms with half of them after a particularly rough semester. The Brawny Man was standing in front of me and thought I was hot. I needed friends in the area.

"Uh, okay." I stammered.

I got back to my truck and looked at the cash. He tipped me $30.