comment and vote <3
Soundtrack
Unwritten - Natasha Bedingdield
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else
No one else can speak the words on your lips
***
I stand by my locker a few minutes after the release bell, waiting for Jace.
As I wait, I put my combination into the lock and decide which textbooks need to be taken home, and which I can leave.
My eye catches on a Polaroid photo of Chey and I that's taped to the inside of my locker, and I sigh.
I haven't been to her grave since that day in early August, and it's nearly October now. I know I should visit, but it's strange. Strange to visit my best friend in a cemetery. Strange to think that she's really dead.
Sometimes the realization knocks the wind out of me.
I sort my books out, and close my locker just as Jace appears from around the corner.
"You want to go out for a cup of coffee?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I press Chey to the back of my mind and smile at him, nodding my head yes.
He throws an arm over my shoulder, and I lean into him.
"Let's get out of here," he says softly, as if sensing my previous thoughts. I force a smile through tight lips, and let him lead me out of the building and to his car.
Once we're driving, I ask, "Where are we going?"
"Café Rosada," he says. "That new one we've been wanting to try."
I laugh. "You mean the one you've been wanting to try because of the cute barista in the window," I tease, nudging him with my elbow.
He clams up, shaking his head and stammering, "What? I mean- No, I just-"
"Calm down," I tease. "As long as I'm getting a cup of coffee out of this endeavor, I'm happy."
"You won't say anything?" He asks.
I roll my eyes. "Of course not."
The rest of the drive is mostly either comfortable silence or my shameless teasing of Jace on his apparent crush.
When we arrive at the café, we grab a seat in a booth, waiting for a barista to come take our order.
There's a cute, notebook sized menu sitting on the table, and I flip through it.
I decide to have a slice of cheesecake, along with my coffee, suddenly craving something sweet. Besides, I can't remember the last time I had cheesecake.
A voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I set the menu down and meet the friendly gaze of our waitress. The same one I noticed Jace eyeing when we drove by the other day on the way home.
She's a wholesome kind of beautiful, with walnut brown hair and soft doe eyes. She's model tall, with an hourglass figure.
"Good afternoon, my name is Trinity and I'll be your server today," she says, a lilt in her voice. "Are you ready to order?"
I nod, and relay my order to her, before we both turn to Jace expectantly. When he doesn't stop gawking, I kick him under the table, rolling my eyes.
He jumps, before stammering "Um, I'll just have a, uh, house coffee."
I stifle the laugh that wants to let itself free. Jace looks completely embarrassed, but Trinity seems amused.
"Will that be all?" She chuckles, sliding her pen into her apron.
"Yes, thanks," I say politely, waiting for her to bound off before turning to Jace. "You've got no game, Erickson"
He laughs loudly, suddenly shaken out of his embarrassed stupor.
"I suppose I'd have to agree."
"Seriously though- why are you getting so clammed up? It's just another pretty girl," I say, nudging him under the table. "Do you know her from somewhere?"
He shrugs sheepishly. "I've seen her around school. She always seems so- I don't know, peaceful."
I snort. "We could use some of that in our life."
"Tell me about it."
I spot a piece of paper over his shoulder, hanging on the glass door at the front of the restaurant.
Squinting my eyes, I can make out 'We're Hiring!' in bold print.
"What are you looking at?" Jace asks, calling my attention back to him.
"They have a job opening," I say thoughtfully.
"You'd want to work here?"
"I did say I needed a change in scenery. A job wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," I say, just as Trinity returns with our order.
As she's setting everything down, I ask, "Are you guys still hiring?"
I tilt my head towards the door for emphasis.
"Yeah- thinking about applying?" When I nod, she says, "That's awesome. We could really use the help. This place is taking off faster than we thought it would."
"Where would I apply to?"
"Well, you could send in your resume, but honestly, I'd just talk to the manager directly. His office is back there," she says, gesturing towards a door towards the back corner of the café.
My face must give away my hesitance; it's quite unorthodox for random passersby to waltz into a manager's office and request a job. In any case, she picks up on my unease.
"Don't worry about seeming too forward," she assures. "We're so hard pressed for work right now, he'd hire anyone."
She chuckles, and I find myself laughing along with her. The word 'infectious' slips through my mind as her bubbly laughter reaches my ears.
"Well, I'll leave you two to it," she says, smiling at both Jace and I.
"Thanks for your help."
She walks away, and I lift my cappuccino to my lips, taking a long sip as I let the idea of working marinate in my brain.
I've never worked a day in my life. Never had any real responsibilities, aside from school. I've never had any urge to work.
But I'm so tired of going home every day and burying myself in school work and dates and running. So much running. I'm sick of feeling stuck, and this could be- fun?
Plus, I'd have some cash of my own; I wouldn't have to depend on my parents as much.
No to mention that it would look good on college applications.
I set my coffee down, my mind made up.
"I'm going to go speak to the manager," I say to Jace, standing to my feet.
"Really?"
"Yeah. What's the worst that could happen," I respond, shrugging my shoulders. As I'm walking towards the back room, I look over my shoulder and call, "Don't touch my cheesecake!"
My stomach starts to flutter as I approach the door. Nerves.
I raise my hand and knock lightly, waiting a moment before the door swings open. The man behind the door is older, with curly red hair. He has black, square glasses framing his face, and smile lines crinkling around his eyes. I'd say he's in his mid-forties if I had to guess.
"Did one of the waiters mess up your order?" he asks, allowing me to notice his crisp British accent. He looks concerned, probably more for himself than me, as I doubt he's interested in having a teenager scream at him for an hour about messing up her 'soy skinny vanilla latte'.
"No," I assure him, watching as his features flood with relief. I smile as I continue with, "I actually wanted to speak to you about your job opening."
"Great!" he says, perking up and stepping aside so that I can walk through the door. I do, taking a seat in front of his desk. "What's your name?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," I stammer, realizing I forgot to introduce myself. "I'm Grace Adams- I'm a senior at Santa Barbara High School."
He nods his head. "And you're interested in working here?"
"Yes sir," I respond, nodding. "I don't have much experience, I admit, but I'm a fast learner."
"Awesome. Normally I'd go through the whole interview process, but we're understaffed, so if you're interested, the job is yours. Your first month is a trial basis, but that's standard with most jobs," he explains. "When can you start?"
Surprised by the speed of everything, I murmur, "Monday?" my voice more a question than a statement.
"Monday sounds good. Write down your email and I'll send you all the forms you need to fill out. I have to warn you, there I quite a few of them," he says humorously.
"I'll survive," I chuckle, scribbling my email onto a piece of printer paper before reaching out and shaking his hand. "Thank you so much-"
I pause, realizing I'm unsure of the name of this quirky, red-haired man.
"Charles. Charles Richardson."
"Thank you Mr. Richardson," I say, my voice genuinely friendly.
"See you Monday!"
I smile, and head back to my table. When Jace sees me coming, he stands up, curious.
"Well?"
I keep my expression blank for a moment, before a broad smile breaks free.
"You're looking at a working woman," I say coolly, before jumping into his arms and laughing.
He swings me around for a moment before we both sit down.
I glance at my dessert, and frown.
"I told you not to touch my cheesecake," I say, noting the fork taken out of it.
"You're a working woman now," he says, winking at me. "You can afford to buy a new one."
A/N
A filler chapter?
Yes.
Necessary?
You bet.
Anyways, ask any and all questions on this chapter, this book, the recovery series in general, or anything else that comes to mind. I'll be posting another Q&A video within the next few days, answering anything you guys ask (as long as it isn't something like 'Where do you live' or 'What's your social security number' XD )
So, how's your week going?
Also, I realize this is a short chapter, but keep in mind that this is the second time I've updated in four days. Like, how often does that happen?
I've already started on the next chapter, so expect it sometime this weekend, if not before.
How many people are playing the lottery tonight/have parents who are playing the lottery? If you won, what would you do with the money? (Just out of curiosity)
Random Quote: 'The hardest part about walking away from you is knowing that you won't run after me.'
Love you guys!
Goodnight my Lovelies!