again // h.s

Chapter 5

I woke up the next morning to someone singing. Of course. I sit up and rub my forehead before I fall back down into the bed, throwing a pillow at the door in an attempt to close it. It doesn't close all the way, though. Just halfway. I groan as I turn over and bury my head under my pillow.

"Jace, stop singing. God damn it," I shout.

"I couldn't wake you up," he shouts back. I sigh.

"What time is it?" I ask as I stand up and slowly walk towards the door. I bend over to grab the pillow, attempting to throw it on my bed. But it ends up knocking over a lamp. I mentally thank god it fell on a carpet and not ceramic floor.

"It's 6:30, you're late."

"Shit," I mumble as I quickly turn around and enter my room again. I run to my closet, mumbling profanities.

"It's just work, you idiot. Why are you so stressed out about it?"

I freeze. Right. Since when do I even care?

"I have no idea," I say slowly. "When does your shift start?"

"At 7:15"

"Well, are you done getting ready?"

"Yes. You're gonna be late. Hurry!" He shouts, chuckling.

I huff as I open my closet, pulling out black denim jeans and a beige shirt. I grab a black sweater and pull it over my head. I stand on the tip of my toes, grabbing my black vans before sliding them on and rolling up my jeans until they are a bit far above my ankle.

And then we take off.

***

"Sir, I'm sorry but you cannot refund food. It's food. Now, I'm going to have to politely ask you to leave the line."

"But, my daughter changed her mind. What am I supposed to do with the food now?" The middle aged man asks.

"Okay," I whisper to myself, trying to calm down. "Sir. If you do not leave the line, I will have to call the manager."

"Fine, do it."

I sigh, turning around to look at his office, the door is closed. "But it's all the way over there," I whine.

He sends me a death glare and I put my hands up in the air in surrender. "Fine," I sigh.

"Naty!" I shout.

It takes 30 seconds until she's standing in front of me, "Yes, Aysel?"

"We're having trouble with a customer and I have a shit load of orders to take. Please do me a favor and call Paul."

"Of course!" She squeals. Teens.

"Sir. Paul- I mean, uh, the manager will be right with you. Please step to the side so I can take orders," I say. He nods his head and I almost feel bad for him.

Paul opens his office door, eyeing the place and genuinely smiling at how everything's going fine around in the kitchen. He averts his gaze to me and I giggle as he approaches me. "What have you done this time?" He smiles.

"Nothing, I swear. A customer just requested to talk to you."

He smiles back and walks toward the customer, standing in front of him. I watch as his facial expression changes from neutral to just bored.

I giggle as I place my hand over my cheek, elbow resting on the counter as I laugh at them. Someone clears their throat and my head snaps up far too fast for my liking. I could've sworn I heard a crack. I put a hand on the side of my neck, rubbing it. "Sorry, what would you like to order?"