fight club • luke hemmings

chapter one

The group of boys looked between each other and once she had caught a glimpse of their faces a blush rose on her face. "How many times you said that today?" He asked, his pink lips curled into a smirk she so badly grew to love and despise at the same time. He sat with three friends, all dressed smartly yet comfortable. He had stubble yet trimmed and took care of, dirt blonde waves he slicked back letting it fall in its natural curls, after her eyes fall to the cigarette resting on his ear. The Harrington jacket rolled up to his elbow.

"Lost track," she answered, short and bluntly though she never aimed to come across hostile, by the fourth hour all fabricated smiles and altered personalities had ran out.

"C'mon," he said, sitting up to lean his elbows on the table. "Give us a smile," he mocked, his tongue glazing over his lips, tone nothing but at a mere harsh jab to humiliate her. Two of the boys snickered at his pathetic attempt to irritate her, all it did was make her look at the four with a scowl. She's heard it too many times. "Smile," they'd say as they just returned from an evening of sunbathing or showering in the waves of the cool ocean while she spent hours hustling and wiping down tables.

Screw you. She wanted to reply to his condescending, borderline misogynistic comment but she could see the manager's eyes watching her cautiously by the tills, a second warning in a day wouldn't be good news at all. "Funny. Are you gonna order or what?"

"Milkshakes 'n' fries, a side of you would be hip too."

She pulled a face, repulsed. It was always the good looking ones. The ones who knew they attracted many women — men also, charm and wit coming second nature to them. They'd walk as if they had no one to fear, talk as if they lacked any common morals and she hated the fact she was always attracted to that same draining brand. She turned to his friends asked what they'd like, all while his eyes hungrily roamed her golden face. Once they'd said they wanted the same, she skated away disappearing to the back counter and prayed someone else would send their food.

It just didn't work like that. At front of house, there were three of them who had their own assigned table. Once you take someone's order, their yours until the very second they leave; tipped or not, so she shrugged it off told herself it was just a group of assholes who probably just wanted to entertain themselves. "Thank you, doll." he said once she had brought them their food and drinks. She only nodded, kept a face of pure disinterest and just as she was going to skate away he called her again, her ears perking up at the already awarded pet name.

"You got a name?"

"No."

"Ah, c'mon babe don't be like that," he pouted, the rest of his boys watching with amusement, though something in their eyes told her this was just another reoccurring act from their presumptuous friend. Swiftly reaching for his ear, he placed the cigarette between his lips, sparking the tip before inhaling a sharp draw his line of vision met hers, with an exhale of smoke he said, "you gonna hurt my feelings."

"Cry about it," she mumbled, crossing her arms across her chest already fed up. His friend, the one with light hair gelled into a comb-over shook his head hissing at the brusque reply, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as if to say her snappy demeanour had bruised his ego. "You're a cold one." His smirk hadn't left his lips once, he enjoyed this. "Lighten up, what was that thing she said, boys? Buy a bucket of chicken and have a barrel of fun?" A rise of laughter fell from his friends too, although one of them never seemed too amused by it, he spoke up next feeling bad for the flustered teenager.

"Mellow out Luke," he said, a sharp jab meeting this 'Luke's' side. He looked up her, his friendly smile much reversed compared to Luke. "He's just joshin' ya, don't take it to heart."