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"Seraphina? How are we coming along with the dishes?" asked Chloé, her and her alluring aura gently wafting through the doors and into the kitchen. It was like a breath of fresh air from the consistent smell of soap and cooking that I would never be able to afford to even get a good sniff of.
It was now 4pm and the lunch rush was over. More waiters gathered near the back with nothing to do, and the dishes only coming in one at a time instead of by the four-million.
I looked to the elegant woman who stood near-towering above me—pale golden hair cascading down her shoulders and gleaming eyes bright in the light of the sun as she looked at me with a million thoughts behind her eyes.
Sighing, I placed the last spotless dish—that I would need to clean for a while—beside its similars. "We, are, done," I said, standing satisfied in front of my pile of clean, drying dishes that I would still have to dry.
She made a light sound—sounding somewhat like a chuckle—and pat me on the back. "Good job. Only a few hours left of your shift before you're swapped out."
My proud grin—once standing tall—was knocked to the ground by a wrecking ball; a gorgeous wrecking ball at 5'11 with eyelashes for days and the prettiest blue irises I've ever seen.
Fuck that wrecking ball.
I externally groaned as loud as physically possible, beating my head once on the metal brim of the kitchen sink, little locks of loose hair trailing into the water as if they wanted to drown themselves away in the bubbles, water, and grime.
After my head had set in its place, Chloé carefully peeled it by my forehead from the surface, parts of my face sticking.
"Geezus, don't do that, Seraphina. You could get a concussion," she said, sounding worried that my stupidity could actually cause self-damage.
I harshly stuffed my hands in my pockets and kicked at the marble bench, uselessly, like a child being denied a visit to the playground. "If I did, could I take a break finally?"
The elder girl rolled her eyes and began to lean her backside against the bench. "You're not going to die, Seraphina," she said, denying my overdramatic mood. "And you took your break 12 minutes ago."
"You don't know that," I grumbled, quietly to myself.
With a roll of her head, Chloé sighed and leaned further back onto the bench—somehow still remaining a graceful wrecking ball.
"Would you like to be the hostess?"
I blinked singularly and looked up to meet her eyes. "Huh?" I asked blankly, confused as to why the sudden change of mood.
