(Alexandra Tucker, May 12th)
"Alright, it should be ready in about ten minutes," I say, mentally running over their orders once more before ducking under the counter and yelling out the order to Mark. Just in case he forgets, I scribble it down on the back of a receipt and place that on the counter.
When I don't see anyone else sitting in my section, I take a seat behind the counter and rest my head on my hands while stifling a yawn. I got the later shift at the restaurant today, making me even more exhausted than usual. Thankfully Liam volunteered to work this shift with me, so I at least have him.
Speaking of Liam, I feel my hair get ruffled and look up to see the brown-eyed boy smiling at me. I return the gesture as he takes a seat beside me.
"Tired, huh?" he muses, stating the obvious. I nod and yawn again as if my body is trying to prove a point. Liam chuckles and pats my back before heading back out to serve a family that just sat in his section.
"Order up!" Mark bellows from the kitchen and I see three steaming plates of food that match the orders of my last customers. Groaning, I stand and balance the plates on my arms before walking over and delivering the food with my best fake smile and cheery voice.
I have just sat back down when the bell tinkles, letting us know a new customer has arrived. I look up to see the one thing that could possibly make my night worse. None other than Harry Styles has just walked through the door along with another guy, and just as I am begging for them not to sit in my section, they do. Of course, just my luck. Thankfully Harry didn't see me, so I turn my back to their table and try not to be noticed.
"Liam!" I whisper, relieved when he walks around the corner. He gives me a questioning look as I pull him down by his shoulders so we are crouching behind the counter.
"What's going on?" he questions all too loudly, and I shush him by placing a hand over his mouth, causing him to roll his eyes.
"Can you please cover one table in my section," I plead, glancing over in the direction of where Harry is sitting. Liam straightens up for a few seconds and then crouches back down again with an apologetic look on his face that lets me know I am doomed.
"I'm swamped, every single table in my section is filled," he says truthfully.
"Sorry," is the last thing he says before he stands up and returns to his work. I groan, knowing I should do the same. After taking a moment to mentally prepare myself, I adjust my tank top and slowly walk over to the booth where Harry and his friend are chatting amongst themselves. They don't stop talking when I stand in front of them, they don't even look up, so I clear my throat.
This causes both boys to turn their heads in my direction. Harry wears a look of pure shock on his face while the other boy smiles, his brown eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. Harry's friend is very handsome, with some stubble on his jaw that matches the dark color of his hair which is slightly shaven away on the sides. I notice that this boy has just as many, if not more tattoos than Harry does and he has three piercings in his right ear. His smile is warm, though, despite his harsh appearance.
"So, Little Miss Perfect actually works for her money," Harry remarks, seemingly recovered from the shock of seeing me here. I shoot him a venomous glare and turn to his friend who seems to be significantly more courteous, although that isn't saying much.
"What would you like?" I ask the dark-haired boy, ignoring Harry's snide comment.
"Uh, can I have a slice of pepperoni pizza and a Coke please?" the boy asks politely in a British accent that comes as a shock to me. I have never known a British person in California, and now I suddenly know two? Everything is changing around here.
"I'm Zayn, by the way," he adds, offering me a smile that I return. He seems really nice. Certainly nicer than his friend, Mr. Styles.
"Sure, Zayn. I'm Alex," I say, cringing as I turn to face Harry.
"And for you?"
"I'll have the same," He says quickly before turning back to Zayn, who gives me an apologetic look.
"Anything else?" I address Harry's polite companion, however, Harry answers anyway.
"No," he snaps, waving a hand without even looking at me. Clearly dismissed, I turn on my heel and walk away to tell Mark their orders. I think I hear Zayn murmur something to Harry, but I am too focused on getting out of there to hear what it is.
A little while later, I return with their food. While Zayn thanks me, Harry decides to ask me more about my job.
"So, how did you end up with a job like this?" he laughs, glancing around at the cozy restaurant. In an effort to avoid his question, I search for any other customers in my section to use as an excuse to leave, but I find none. It's now after eight so fewer and fewer people are coming for dinner, which would be a relief in any other situation, except for right now.
"My friend's mom owns the place," I reply as I refill Harry's cup with water, choosing to calmly disregard his condescending tone. I might act differently if we weren't in a public setting - my workplace nonetheless - but I have a feeling that mouthing off to a customer would not sit well with my coworkers.
"Ahh," Harry breathes, leaning back in his seat like he just discovered something significantly important. "So you didn't have to work to get the job, it was just given to you."
His tone implies that this is the case for my job as well as many other aspects of my life, which couldn't be more wrong. I have worked hard at this job, and while I might have gotten the opportunity because my father is acquainted with Liam's mother, I have certainly earned my place here.
My cheeks flame with anger and I seriously have to restrain myself from grabbing Harry's collar, pulling his outside, and yelling in his face to contradict every untrue and rude thing that has slipped out of his pierced mouth about me.
Instead of the much more appealing alternative, I simply roll my eyes and walk back past the counter and into the hot kitchen where I am out of sight from everyone except Mark.
"What's up?" he asks, turning his head towards me while sliding a pizza in the oven. His black and grey streaked hair falls over his face before he flicks it back and raises his eyebrows when I don't answer.
"I, uh, is table four's order ready yet?" I ask, choosing a random table where I saw some people without food. Mark eyes me quizzically while answering in a slow voice.
"I just put it in the oven," he says. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I lie, pushing open the swinging doors to lean against the counter. I'm not okay, but then again, I never am.
The sound of a bell causes me to look up from the speckled white surface of the counter top, and I see Niall and Regan walking in and waving at me. Regan got the earlier shift today, so I don't know why she would be here.
"Hey girl," she says a little too loudly and I see Harry's and Zayn's heads turn toward us at the noise. I mentally curse Regan but greet her and Niall while trying to ignore Harry's piercing green stare.
"What are you guys doing here?" I ask them as they sit on stools that are across the counter.
"We thought we'd stop by and see you at work," Niall says, shrugging.
"But my mom dropped us off so can you give us a lift to Niall's when you get off?" Regan pipes up, offering me her sweetest smile while batting her eyelashes.
"Yeah, sure," I agree, although I would have agreed even without the puppy face. Regan beams at me and starts chattering away about her day while I find myself glancing over to Harry and Zayn's booth more than I care to admit.
When my eyes find their table once more, Harry is absent and Zayn sits alone, picking ice out of his empty cup.
"I thought you were supposed to be waiting on us," a voice from behind startles me and Regan falls silent, eyes wide as she takes in the sight that is Harry. I turn around and give him the fakest smile I can muster while he positively glares at me.
"I am," I say calmly.
"Well I would like nothing more than to get out of here, so if you could do your unearned job faster, that would be great," Harry snarls, sarcasm clear in his voice. I huff in annoyance as he walks back to his seat and turn to see shocked expressions on both of my friends' faces.
"Who was that?" Regan gasps, shifting on her stool so she has a better look at Harry. I think over what my answer should be before speaking: I could say he is a client of my mother's or a guy in my brother's fraternity. Both would be true, but introducing him as my mother's client associates him less with me, so I decide on that option.
"He's one of my mom's clients," I inform them, waving a hand in dismissal of the subject. I then let out a huge sigh before walking over and printing out Harry's check. When I reach their table, I ignore Harry completely and address Zayn instead.
"Will that be all?" I ask to be polite, even though I already know the answer. Zayn opens his mouth to speak but is once again cut off by a loud sharp voice.
"Do we look like we want anything besides the damn check?" Harry barks, and I spin around to face him, finally fed up with his impertinent attitude.
"Well, I didn't ask you, did I?" I spit angrily, watching the shock register on his face as the words leave my mouth. His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches as he leans back in his seat but doesn't say anything else.
"Um, no, we're all set," Zayn says, his confused eyes flicking between Harry and me. I force yet another smile and set the check in the middle of the table before treading back over to where Niall and Regan are staring at me, open-mouthed.
Niall offers me a sympathetic smile while Regan looks disgusted and shakes her head. Her expression mimics my emotions: pure revulsion and shock, although I am significantly less shocked than my friends, having dealt with Harry's unkind behavior before.
A light tap on my shoulder causes me to turn around, seeing Zayn standing behind me.
"Hey, I'm sorry about Harry, he's just kind of upset at the moment and he tends to get like this when he's having a rough time," Zayn says, his voice sounding like rich, dark chocolate.
"You don't have to apologize for him, we've met before and he was an ass then too-"
"A friend of ours just passed away," Zayn interrupts, his eyes sad. I immediately feel guilty for the way I acted. "Harry really isn't like this, he's just a troubled kid, so don't take it personally. There's a lot going on there."
I nod.
"I'm sorry about your friend," I add, truly meaning it.
Zayn nods in acknowledgment and I excuse myself to go pick up an order. By the time I get back, Harry and Zayn have both left, which is a relief.
However, I feel like something has changed now I know that Harry's gone, no matter how hard I try to ignore it. I'm starting to notice more things, things I usually try to refrain from noticing. Things like a blue striped shirt that Will used to have or someone who's height would be exactly the same as Will's if he were standing over me. It's almost as if Harry's presence is a block in my mind, a block from Will. Now that I think about it, I never thought of him while I was talking to Harry tonight or that night at the frat house.
I really am going crazy. Harry is not some remedy for my problems, all he does is create more. Maybe being alone with my own thoughts isn't as beneficial as I thought. But if that's not, what is? I really hope the answer isn't nothing.
I walk over and pick up the check, almost missing the one dollar bill that falls out of it. My tip. Remembering what Zayn told me, I sigh and try to understand Harry's pain, which isn't actually that challenging considering what I've been going through.
My shift ends shortly after that, and Niall and Regan both climb into my car so I can take them home. Or to Niall's house, which is practically both of their homes. Regan talks constantly through the whole ride, but I've learned to just let it go in one ear and out the other.
My phone starts ringing and I am relieved for a distraction until I see that Martha Dixon is calling me, Will's mother. Regan falls silent when she sees who's calling and offers me a sympathetic smile while I answer.
"Hello?" I say, keeping one hand on the wheel while pinching the phone between my ear and my shoulder.
"Hello, Alex," Martha coos softly, and my heart aches. She will forever be a reminder of everything I can never have. I would like to think she would have been my mother-in-law someday, but now that isn't even a possibility.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about something," she continues, making my stomach drop. What could she possibly want to talk about?
"I want to know if you'd like Will's..." she trails off when her voice cracks as she speaks her son's name. I can tell she is crying and that makes tears of my own well up in my eyes, but I blink rapidly to prevent them from falling.
"If you'd like Will's tags," she finishes, sniffling.
Will's tags from the army. Something to remember him by, a little piece of him to hold on to. Do I want them? I think that having those tags would just remind me that that little piece is all that's left, but I also can't bear the thought of losing him entirely.
"Yes, I would," I decide, swallowing the lump in my throat while I ignore Regan's eyes on me. I see Niall's house just ahead, so I pull over to the curb and wave goodbye to my friends.
Niall and Regan bid me goodnight before stepping out of the car and walking up the steps to Niall's house with their arms around each other. I feel tears burning in my eyes and I look away from the couple.
"Okay, sweetie," Martha says, startling me. I had almost forgotten she was on the other line. "You can come by anytime and get them, we'll be here."
I nod, but then remember she can't see me.
"Okay," I mean to say, but my voice wavers and it comes out as more of a whimper.
"Bye, Honey."
"Bye."