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 Saturday, October 3rd


Marty showed up at the diner with a couple guys from the team, a herd of blue and yellow jackets passing through the single door.

''Jones!'' Marty's voice called, seeing him balancing empty plates in one hand and drinks in the other. FP looked up when he heard his name. ''Where were you last night? You know it's a rule to be present at every after-match parties.''

Unknown to the public eye, the Bulldogs have a book of rules they must follow to be a part of the team. At the start of every season, all new players have to sign the book and agree to follow all rules. If one violated a rule and, by example didn't attend an after-match party, Marty threatened to kick them out of the team. Except, Coach still had the last word on who was in the team and not so...Marty can shove his rules up his ass.

''Sorry man, I had a...stomach flu,'' FP covered up, hoping Marty wouldn't press in for more infos. ''I threw up on the way home and didn't stop until two in the morning. Trust me, it was best I stayed home.''

The bulldog frowned. ''Shouldn't you be at home if you were sick?''

Caught. Think fast, FP.

''Weirdly enough, I'm feeling brand new. So, maybe it was more of an upset stomach than stomach flu.''

Marty hummed, still perplexe. ''Better show up on Friday.'' FP nodded at his captain. ''Now, bring me my usual. With an extra onion rings order. I'm so hungry, I could eat a whole cow.''

''Coming right up!''



Some spent their Saturday night at the Twilight drive-in, making out in a car with a movie in the background while the party animals liked to get ready for parties with their girlfriends or pre-gaming at their best bud's house. FP, he, was stuck at the diner, wiping the counter and tables clean.

It was nearing seven o'clock and the diner was almost empty except for a couple sharing a booth and an man in his forties at the counter. The latter stood and left a twenty on the counter, right next to his empty plate. FP nodded at the man, grabbing the dollar bill and politely wished him a good evening. Putting the cloth over his shoulder, FP cashed in the money in the register, putting the rest in his apron's pocket as tip.

While he was doing so, the bell above the door signed, signaling a new customer walked in.

''Hey handsome. I'll have a vanilla milkshake and an order of fries. Don't burn them.''

FP's eyes snapped upwards to meet the figure that had previously interrupted the stillness of the diner. A smirk formed on his face as his eyes lander on the girl that haunted his dreams. She had told him she'd show up at the diner yesterday. Like promised, there she stood.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Alice had asked, sitting up in FP's bed, smoking a cigarette in nothing but her underwear.

FP stared at the ceiling, still naked under the blanket, savoring the intimate moment. "I'm working."

"Until..." She raised an eyebrow, using an old plate on FP's nightstand to use as ashtray.

"Until eight."

"And after that?"

He thought for a moment, playing the busy card. ''I don't know. I might go to Fred's.''

''What would you say if I passed by?''

FP looked up at the blonde, furrowing his eyebrows. ''At Pop's?''

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