Our Invisible Love is all I see.

43.1K 540 91

Copyright- All Rights Reserved

Chapter 1.

I sighed, pulled my long, sandy coloured hair back into a high ponytail and began to wipe down the table, stacking the used glasses on the brown tray beside me as I went. As I leaned forward I made sure not to get my uniform of a tight white t-shirt tucked into black ripped denim shorts near the messy table so I didn’t get any food stains on me.

Urghh some people are pigs.  Just suck it up Savannah…

It’s like the day they taught table manners just passed them right by; you eat your food on your plate. You don’t try and smear it on the table. I hate it when customers think that just because they’re not at home and won’t be cleaning up after themselves, they can leave the table like pigsty.

“ Fucking Jerks” I said under my breath as I wiped away a big stain of mustard on the table. They didn’t even tip. It was the end of the lunch rush and now the bar was practically deserted.

Now, don’t get the wrong impression; I usually love my summer job at the local bar in my town, with it’s rustic dark wood bar, the red vinyl booths in the back, and the pool table in the corner next to one of the best stocked jukeboxes I’ve ever seen. I get to serve drinks, chat to the customers, have a joke my three best friends who also waitresses.

Not to mention our boss, Rita, only has two rules on uniform: spotless tight white top with your nametag and some sort of short black bottoms. On Saturday night’s we can dress up in whatever we wanted as long as we stuck our nametags on it and keep all our tips.

The best night is on Saturday when the staffs are allowed to dance on the bar and it fills up with college kids, locals and people looking for a good time from surrounding towns.

In short the SilverEclipse bar was the hottest place to be in our town if you were looking for a good night out. Though, that didn’t make cleaning up after the customers during daytime shift any cooler.

It still sucked.

I wiped the table clean, humming along to the faint Lady Gaga song that I knew that May , one third of my group of best friends, would have put on in the back room. I could imagine her twirling away in the stock cupboard with a broom, energetically singing along and doing dance moves.

She had been the blonde bombshell darling of our town, as head cheerleader and by far the most popular of our foursome of best friends in high school. She was also one of the sweetest, kindest people I’d ever known, not conforming to the mean cheerleader stereotype you see on TV.

Last year, before we graduated, she won senior homecoming queen by a school record landslide.  That kind of popular.

On the other hand the other three in our group, including me, had been a little more reserved in our team spirit. Partly because none of us had May’s extraverted, bubbly personality or her eye-catching bright blonde locks with big blue doe like eyes. We definitely didn’t have the athletic build that meant May was the best flyer our school’s cheerleading team had ever seen.

Our Invisible Love is all I seeWhere stories live. Discover now