Rolling Dice [sample]

Rolling Dice

                The black uniform and dark green apron probably makes him look a little paler than he really is. He has a long, bony nose and really bright green eyes with thick, dark eyelashes. His dark hair is short, in tight half-curls. If he ever grew it out longer, I bet he’d have a mass of springy ringlets most girls would envy. He’s tall, but not insanely tall. A few inches higher than me, maybe? His long limbs make him look kind of gangly though.

                But there is something about him that I have to think, is cute.

                “Thanks,” I say.

                “Anything else I can get you?”

                “No, thanks, that’s fine.”

                I look back at my new cell, looking at the manual again – I’m holding it open with my elbow. It sounds like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo to be honest. But there is no way I’d ever figure out this darn thing by myself.

                “Do you, uh, need a hand?”

                I blink, looking up at him. I hadn’t even realized he was still there.

                “Don’t you have people to serve?” I probably sound like a stuck-up snob, but I don’t mean to; I’m just getting frustrated with the phone. I’ve been here for at least ten minutes already trying to work out one tiny thing.

                “We’re not that busy, I think I can spare a few minutes.”

                He sweeps a hand around and I see he’s right – a group of three gossiping girls, a couple tucked away in the corner, and a man typing away at his laptop.

                “Everybody’s at the beach,” he carries on by way of explanation. “Enjoying the last few days of summer before school kicks in. Usually this place is heaving.”

                I nod.

                “So – you want some help, or not?” He gives me an easy, friendly smile. It’s a kind of lopsided smile, going up higher on the left, but it looks quirky and cute on him.

                I don’t know if it’s the smile or just that I really do need the help, but I give in.

                “Please?” I say, laughing sheepishly.

                He scrapes out the chair opposite me, dropping into it. “What’re you trying to do?”

                “I’m not a hundred percent sure. It said something about having to setup the internet before you can use it, and there’s some kind of code on the box, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

                He holds out a hand and I pass the cell phone over. I hover over the manual, wondering if he needs it, or if I’m just an idiot not to make any sense of it.

                He doesn’t need the manual, as it turns out.

                “What’s the code?”

                I read it out off the box, and a few taps on the cell phone later, he hands it back over. “There you go. All done.”

                I smile. “Thanks! I swear, technology has a vendetta against me. I almost broke the microwave just last week.”

                It was a bit of an exaggeration, sure. I’d put it on the wrong setting and my pasta had exploded, and then the microwave shut itself off automatically. I thought I’d broken it though, for a while.