Chapter 12: The One that Got Away

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You guys rock. As you should know.

Btw, if you didn't already know, I love slow burns. 

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"You incompetent little girl, how dare you!"

Terry was behind me and yelling loudly. 

Luckily, we only had one table for the night, but still. Hearing him yell at me wasn't a good feeling. And I didn't fall in front of an audience- just in front of Zeke.

You know, the owner.

Momentarily frozen with soup dripping down his shirt, Zeke looked down at me.

"Stella?" he asked face lit with recognition. Saying my name in the way he always does: full of wonderment, and a fondness I couldn't place. 

Hurriedly, he crouched down, offering me his hand. "Are you alright?" concern was etched into his voice. 

I took his hand, stating, "I. Am. So. Sorry. Seriously-"

Something in his face flickered as he looked down at our entwined hands. Which, I noticed, he was still holding onto even though I was already up.

"Zeke, I didn't know you were going to be in today." Terry's voice from behind, closer to me. Now though, his voice seemed nervous.

Ever so slowly, Zeke let go of my hand so he could move forward, putting me out of Terry's view.  

Zeke's usual relaxed demeanor was gone as he looked at Terry.

"What was your name again?" Zeke peered at Terry's name tag. "Ah, Terry is it? Is this how you speak to all the workers here?"

"Well as you can see she-" Terry got cut off by Zeke.

"Right. Mistakes happen. But being rude to the workers and creating an environment where they don't feel like coming to work because of people like you who make them feel bad about their mistakes is something I don't think this restaurant stands for." Zeke's tone was sharp.

"I'm so sorry. That won't happen again."

"No need for that, Terry. I think you need a day off." Zeke's dismissal of him reminded me every bit of how he's truly a prince. I forget that sometimes.

"But-" Terry gulped as he saw Zeke's face, expressionless, but something in his tone demanded complete respect. Regal. Like the royalty he is. Not saying another word, Terry scrambled out of the restaurant.

The main chef, Marco, came outside the kitchen with a black shirt in tow.

"I think you'll need this, Zeke," Marco had an amused look in his eyes. It was what the chef wore- a black uniform. "The restaurant is about to close anyways. Get changed, Zeke."

"Really, I am so sorry," I tell Zeke again, but he shook his head.

"That's alright. I'll be right back." Zeke walked to the back. He tried to lift his shirt up so the soup would stop dripping down.

Marco and I went over to where I dropped the customer's dishes. They watched the whole debacle unfold.

It was a teenage couple holding hands, looking every bit sorry for me as I felt. One looked like she was a goth,decked out in all black with all kinds of piercings on her ears while the other literally had on her cheer-leading uniform on.

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