Sometimes it's completely useless to try and fight fate, but, of course, that is exactly what I am trying to accomplish.
My hair is falling out of it's once perfect bun as I practically run from table to table. Taking orders, delivering food, collecting bills, returning receipts. It's all in the day of a waitress.
Glancing at the clock, hoping to see that it isn't in the same spot it was the last time I checked, and being sorely disappointed. How is it that time can move ever so slowly? If I ever get into a situation where I only have a day, I can certainly come here to turn it into a week.
The front door bangs, letting in the frosty air and a customer. Goosebumps rise on my arms from the unexpected chill. One of the hostesses greets the man and asks for the party number. I'm not surprised when he revealed it is just himself. He seems like the type to be alone. I'm just not sure if it's the hair, the shoes, or simply the indifferent look on his handsome face. She is obviously attracted to him. You can tell in the way she looks at him and flutters her long eyelashes. She doesn't look regretful at all when she tells him we are full, and the only open seating is at the counter.
"Juliet! Your food's up, table nine," Rob, the only cook working tonight, hollers to me.
As soon as I finish jotting down an older couple's order, I make my way to the stainless window where the food for my table is up. I swiftly trade out my ticket for the steaming hot plates and stumble over to table nine. I hand each of the dishes off one by one, taking relief in the cool air rushing to meet my now burning skin.
"Is there anything else I can get you guys right now?" Glancing at each of the occupants faces, I can tell immediately that I will not be receiving a vocal response. As soon as I think this, I am greeting with four shaking heads.
Come on, Juliet. Your shift's almost over. You can make it. Then, you can go home, and sleep for a million years.
I promise myself this before making my rounds to my tables yet again, my eyes glancing up at the forever slowing clock.
---
My body deflates as soon as it comes in contact with my mattress. Even though I am exhausted from an eight hour shift, my mind refuses to cooperate with me.
I cannot help but think about that guy. With that dark hair and the almost mischievous expression, he's unforgettable. And driving my conscious absolutely insane. All I want is sleep.
How pathetic was Rose, trying to get his attention when she offered him the counter. News flash, we work at a diner, not a matchmaking factory.
Sometimes I'm really glad I have a talent for biting my tongue, because if I actually said that when I'd thought it at the diner, I would be out a job. You know, seeing as Rose is the manager's daughter and all.
Rose is an absolute horror to be around. She is constantly flirting and batting those famous fake eyelashes of hers. Always trying to give me beauty tips, as if she's actually concerned that I'll kill some one with my bad looks. Telling me that I could be pretty, if I just caked my face in makeup and dropped 30 pounds. No thanks.
If it is at all possible, I think my bed got more comfortable the longer I laid there. My eyelids got droopier, my brain fuzzier, and sleep closer.
---
The next morning is a rush. I barely have time to eat breakfast, and I am definitely running late. My first class starts at 8:00 on the dot this morning, but of course I took the 11:30 shift. Leaving myself just enough time to actually get to the diner. After I lock my apartment door, I book it down the stairs and out the front door of my building.
I make it to class just as the professor walks in, so technically I'm not late, but it is really debatable. I quickly drop my bag and settle into a seat, grabbing my notebook and my pen.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you brought your listening ears, because today's lecture is crucial for your midterm that's rapidly approaching. We will be covering the entire life story of everyone's favorite. William Shakespeare," he rattles off, pacing at the front of his desk.
As the lecture begins I make sure to make my notes clean and precise. I'm doing just this when I'm tapped abruptly on my shoulder, jolting me from my little rhythm.
"I'm sorry, but do you happen to have a pen I could borrow?" Asks a familiar guy with dark wavy hair and stunning green eyes.
I'm lost in those very same piercing eyes when he mumbles,"I understand if you don't. I get it, no one wants to help the new guy."
"No! I mean no. That's not it, I just...
Lost my train of thought that's all. Of course you can use a pen," reaching into my bag revealing a pen identical to the one I'm already using. I pass it to him and our hands brush. His hands are so warm.
"Thanks I really appreciate it," he replies looking down to his own notebook as we both tune back in to the lecture.
---
I'm at work and pouring coffee, like usual when I realize. That was the guy. That was the same guy from the diner yesterday! The very same one that Rose eye-raped in the middle of the restaurant!
Soooooo, do you like it? I thought I would try my hand at something new. It's been so long. It feels good to write again. Hopefully I will continue to write this story.
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Milkshakes After Midnight
Teen FictionA cliche story about a girl, a boy, and milkshakes. Juliet looks like an average college student, but Mason sees something in her that nobody else seems to. Don't be fooled. Mason causes his own trouble, but will Juliet fall under his spell and...
