BROWN SKIN | BOOK 1

|| C H A P T E R . 5 ||

My feet shifted my weight and I blinked my eyes one time. Then twice. And I couldn't help the annoyed smirk spreading on my face along with little snorts, "Okay?"

"It kind of sucks that it was your first day." He continued, "and I apologize for making you look stupid I guess."

My mind pondered over his words. English definitely wasn't his first language from his native tongue, as he slipped the vowels till they sounded flat and some accents hit sharply till the context in his sentences were broken. But his English was almost perfect, it could've fooled anyone.

Almost.

He frowned dispiritedly since I haven't said anything yet and tilted his head at an angle.

"I mean claps to you for working up that blunt apology speech and having the guts to say that. But it's not too believable, your friends could be anywhere at the moment recording this."

I glanced around the restaurant and called out, "Okay guys, it's a wrap. I get it, it was funny the first time, ha, where are the recorders? Cameras? You almost got me."

His frowned deepened some more into a cute pout. "I'm being serious." Before quickly adding, "They're not my friends."

"So why would you hang out with them then?"

Strange cute apology guy completely dodged my question and answered one of his own. "The little prank wasn't even meant for you, it was for the other waitress, Emman-uelle?. They just happened to get the wrong person. I was just doing the deed I knew nothing about until afterward."

The name sounded familiar and I snapped my fingers as the really nice African girl who was friendly popped in my head. I only spoke to her one time, when she had her regular shift and I was doing the training session.

"She is always a bitch to them when they come in and the guys just wanted to get back at her so I carelessly joined in."

I nodded understand the little information I was given. I guess there are two sides to people others don't know about? Not sure, but it was still stupid.

"Anyways," he leaned back as if a rush of relief surged off him, "What is your name?"

His eyes searched mine with an inch of curiosity and confusion and his eyes were the first thing that caught my attention.

Heterochromia.

His eyes were a blissful light green that illuminated like a streak of green on a watercolor painting. Too much water was just enough for a dark green color splashed with a rich subdued hue. Yellow, maybe brown, maybe it was gold partially covered the majority of the iris in one eye. I'm glad I remembered this from my notes and class because right now it was hard to focus on anything else.

His eyes looked at the name tag near my chest and I childishly covered it with my hand which tuned out to look like a boob grab.

"You don't need to know."

"Why not?"

"Because, I know your little mischievous plans. You're going to contact my manager, tell her how unprofessional my attitude is toward a customer - probably what you did yesterday - and she'll fire me." I pointed out.

"You're not going to get fired."

"You don't know that."

"I don't," he agreed, "Considering you did yell at a customer, hm, that has probably been the best idea so far."

I narrowed my eyes at him till they could slit throats at his remark and a small smug radiated on his features.

"You're lucky I don't have any customers to serve right now."