Marcel, Harry, Edward, and Daddy

(1.)

☻ʟᴏᴜɪs' ᴘ.ᴏ.ᴠ.☻

I was almost done with my late shift at a little restaurant in town. It never got busy, only around lunch time, but I didn't work that shift. I was about ready to hang up my apron when some random idiot decided to show up at 10 at night and sit down at one of the tables I was in charge of.

He's was quite attractive, but I didn't care anyway because he was getting on my nerves just by breathing. Brown, messy hair and a random T-shirt with skinny jeans.

At that moment, I wondered why the hell a guy like that was coming into a small little restaurant like this at night... Alone. I slowly approached him, wondering what was going on.

"Just... Table for one?"

I asked and held two menus close to my chest.

"I guess so..."

He said and sighed, looking at the menus in my hand.

"Do you mind if I..."

I quickly moved the menus away from my chest and handed him one, walking away fast like an child and hiding behind the counter. Why was I acting like this? I peered out from behind the counter, watching the man closely as his eyes scanned the menu.

I turned quickly, looking up at another girl who worked there and pulled down on her apron.

"You need to take table 8 for me."

I begged, shaking just at the thought of everything.

"Sorry Tommo, I'm going home. Good luck with that one though, pretty damn hot..."

She said and hung up her apron, leaving as fast as she could.

"Fuck..."

I groaned and got up, my tiny legs walking over to the table.

"D-do you need a drink?"

I said and pulled out my little notepad, trying to cover my blushed face.

"Water is fine love."

He whispered and winked, making my heart stop and I felt like I was frozen in time.

"Ok."

I croaked out, getting my legs to move again. I didn't have to write that down, his words stuck with me.

"Love?"

I asked myself and shook my head, filling a glass up with water and ice cubes before returning to the table.

"I think I decided what I wanted."

He said and looked up at me.

"I know what I want..."

I mumbled and bit my lip.

"What was that?"

He asked, and I about died knowing I just said that out loud.

"I said, w-what would you like..."

I said quickly, hoping he would hurry the fuck up so I could leave.

"You're famous for your Rubens, right?"

I nodded, wondering why British people were sometimes into American food.

"Then I'll have that, with crisps."

He added, and I still didn't need to write anything down. His voice was almost hypnotizing, and I somehow remembered every little word he said.

Quickly, I walked back and yelled at the kitchen his order. Someone shouted back at me, and I quickly looked back and leaned over the counter.

"Wow..."