Behind My Sister's Back

Chapter 8 [part 2]: Nice Guy

-- Ali’s POV --

                I sat on a bench feeling pretty good with myself. I had just handed in my application to the employer and she’d said she’d get in touch if I got an interview. Of course, I didn’t have to go in myself, but Gina had always said it was good to give the employer a chance to see you and put a face to a name.

                It was a very posh restaurant and the chances of me getting a job were slim, but it was worth a shot. If I couldn’t be assistant chef I could always be a helper, but the idea of taking a step down was rather worrying.

                There were a couple of other restaurants in town and my second choice was Kathmandu – an Indian restaurant. If I didn’t get the job that was my next option.

                I stared longingly at my restaurant – the one Dennis had taken over. I could just imagine Lisa and him spending time together in the kitchen. I hoped her face was as messed up as I had intended.

                I felt like going in there and ordering food, just to annoy him, but it would probably backfire. I would probably be the annoyed one while he watched me with a smug smirk on his face. I hated that smirk.

                Just as I was about to stand up, I noticed a couple walking out of the restaurant. When the light shone on their faces, anger boiled up inside me. Dennis and Lisa, the jerk and the slut, were walking hand-in-hand across the road. I assumed it was their break, even though a Head Chef really shouldn’t leave the kitchen. She was giggling foolishly as he spoke and I noticed irritation flicker in his eyes.

                I stared at them and my heart skipped a beat when he saw me. His sparkling blue eyes, so intense, looked at me in surprise. He didn’t take his eyes off me until they reached a shop, where he said something in Lisa’s ear. She nodded resentfully and entered the shop alone. He then turned to me again and began walking in my direction.

                My previous happiness shattered and my stomach felt queasy. I really didn’t want to talk to him, not after what he did, so I stood up,  took a sharp left and walked away quickly.

                I didn’t know why he was following me when it was obvious that I didn’t want him to, but he didn’t give up. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw he was closer to me than before. He was literally running towards me but in a more dignified manner. I, on the other hand, didn’t care about what I looked like and began to flat-out sprint towards the nearest crowd.

                It would’ve worked (and I would’ve got rid of him) if I had been wearing heels. I started to run and after about five seconds I swayed, my ankle twisting painfully.

                “Ow!” I said a little too loudly, getting a few funny looks. Ignoring them, I brought my leg up and removed the shoe and then began hopping – yes, you heard correctly, hopping – along.

                “Hey, Ali, are you okay?”

                “I’m fine,” I snapped, hating the sound of his voice.

                “Why did you run off?” said Dennis, and his sapphire eyes pierced into mine. He wrapped an arm around my waist as I stumbled, hissing in pain as my ankle bent.

                “Is it not obvious?!” I cried incredulously. “We’re not friends, you jerk. So get... off...!” I growled, curling my fingers around his wrist and yanking his arms away from me.