Souvenir [Complete]

Four. Waiter

"You're a liar." Ashton's accusation was low as he leaned in to pour Luke's coffee—completely violating the way the diner had taught him. Even Luke knew he wasn't supposed to pour over the table.  Practically as soon as Luke had sat down at the diner the next morning he'd been next to him, coffeepot in hand. Karen was training him, but he seemed to be holding his own well enough. Well except for this violation. "That book is two-hundred-and-fifty-something pages."

"That's a short read for me," Luke hummed. Taking off his mittens and wrapping his frigid fingers around the now extremely warm mug. He could feel himself thaw already.

"You read this all the time?" Ashton raised his eyebrows. "That guy is a selfish asshole."

"I have a type." Luke was mainly teasing, but Ashton gave him a look like he was processing that comment.

"You can't be serious," Ashton raised an eyebrow. "Rob? He's a self pitying asshole. I don't care what he does to re-commit to the girl he loves. Anyone who makes top-five-lists of their exes doesn't need to be anyone's type."

"I saw it waiting for me on the table this morning,"Luke hummed. The book was sitting at Luke's spot on the dining room table. "You finished it already?"

"Couldn't sleep." Ashton shrugged.

"Have a problem with air mattresses?" Luke was mostly teasing to lighten the mood.

"It was cold in the garage."

"Oh, well why didn't you wake anyone up?" Luke asked.

"Didn't know where anyone was. And the last thing I wanted to do was snoop around in the middle of the night." Ashton rolled his eyes. "Plus I'm not three-years-old, I can suck it up."

Luke nodded and sipped his coffee.

Ashton looked off in Karen's direction, and sighed. "I'm supposed to ask you if you'd like any of our specials today," he hummed like he was mocking the seriousness of it.

"Shouldn't you be asking with more of a smile?" Luke teased.

"A smile is too much," Ashton shook his head. "We've got blueberry pancakes and bacon, and I'm told they're trying to do a french omelet back there."

"A waffle is fine. Ooh! And maple syrup," Luke cooed.

"Just that? You don't even wanna see the monstrosity that's supposed to be this omelet?" Ashton asked with quizzical brows.

"No thanks, I'll stick with the safe option," Luke giggled a little.

Ashton popped his eyebrow and the corners of his lips turned up slightly as he walked off writing it down on his little book.

Luke felt a little proud for that, feeling his own smile form. He pulled out High Fidelity and read at the table. But again, he wasn't able to focus on the words. He kept checking out of the corner of his eye for the green sweater with the sleeves rolled up. That was Ashton. He was curious how his training was going.

Not that Luke knew much about the diner. He knew when he was a teenager if he started working there he'd get stuck doing it with no incentive to change. But he'd wanted to be a singer. So instead of getting a job early—since he'd been getting singing lessons since junior high—he became an apprentice to his instructor in Rochester.