𝗙𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗘𝗥 [𝗘𝗿𝗲𝗻 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗿]

𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑾𝑶: 𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 tapped on the counter of the noodle shop counter. The smell of spicy noodles filled the air making your nose itch from the strong scent that laced the air. It was almost 1am and just your luck the noodle shop was open till 3am. You had to cover your coworkers shift because they were sick. But you knew they simply were skipping.

You chewed at the inside of your lip trying to give yourself something to do for the next hour of your life before you got to go home. Your back was sore from last night when you passed out in your living room wearing your backpack. You didn't even care to move to the couch, now regretting your idea of just falling asleep on the hard floor.

As you seemingly mentally punched yourself in the face for being such an idiot when it came to self care you heard the dead chim of the automatic chim from the door censor. You kept telling the owner to change the batteries so the chim didn't sound like a dying cat but he always seemed to brush it off.

"Hello welcome to Hoshi Noodles." You spoke, throwing yourself up from having your head on your palm and standing up straight to try and look as professional as your body would let you. "Oh yeah hey." You looked at the man in front of you and saw a blonde haired boy with a skinny but built body. The clothes he wore couldn't help you figure out if he had just got out of the gym or just got out of bed.

"What can I get for you sir?" You said, your fake overly-happy customer voice making your ears want to tear themselves out. "I'll take an original cold soba, to go." You nodded at him and put it into the register. You bit your bottom lip as you did this; the cash register always was harder for you even though you had been taught how to use it more than four times. "Anything else?"

The man shook his head at your words and pulled out a ten dollar bill handing it to you. You took the bill from him and gave him his dollar ninety-five back as his change and he shoved it in the tip jar. He must not like change because no one on this side of town would ever tip unless they were older than the age of sixty. But this boy didn't look older than sixteen.

You began working on the cold soba in the back trying your hardest to be quick about it since it was so late and you knew the man probably wanted to go home. You sneakily tip-toed to the small window that peered into the kitchen and saw the blonde haired man sitting down in a chair on his phone. He must not be too tired. You pulled your head away from the window and kept the cold soba cooking.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

"Enjoy sir." You said handing him the bag. The man smiled at you and nodded his head a bit at you. He turned to walk out the door but then spun himself around again. A nervous smile peering onto his lips as his hand that wasn't holding the cold soba raised to the back of his neck and scratched it. You truly didn't know what the man was going to ask you and if you were supposed to mentally prepare yourself for the question.

"Sorry but I have to ask." He said, you cocked an eyebrow at him and tilted your head. "I was wondering if you were looking for a job, or a side job." The man asked, a tint of red spreading on his cheeks. "Listen I don't want to have sex with you for no amout of money dude." You said, your face falling flatly. This wasn't the first time someone asked you this if that's what he was getting at.

"W-What? No god no," He said, his cheeks more red than ever before. His pale skin wasn't a snow white anymore but now a beat red. Maybe your comment was a little inappropriate. "I was wondering if you would like to be a ring girl." Your nose scrunched up at his words. Was he talking about those girls who hold up the signs showing the round in mma or boxing matches?

Out of all the things you had been asked to do while you lived in New York this was the cherry on top for being the weirdest.

"You- you will get paid $100 a match. There's always about 8 fights so you would leave with $800 every time there are these fights." He said, the sound of $800 just for holding up a sign and smiling seemed like music to your ears. But the thought of having to prance around in short shorts and a crop top like the girls on pay per view fights do make you sick to your stomach. "Why the hell are you asking me this?"