The Bartender

Save Me a Fry

Camila stepped into her apartment after a long yet good first day at her new job. Sure, waitressing wasn't her dream — and she definitely wasn't going to call it a career. But she was actually pretty impressed with how much she managed to make in tips today, despite the fact that she was only training. She looked around for Tinkerbell, her cat, before eventually finding her on her bed.

"Hello my precious angel," Camila greeted. The cat just stared at her. "What? You're not even going to ask me how my day went?" The cat hissed. "Jeez. No need to lash out. It went well, by the way." The brunette pulled off her skimpy work attire and slipped on something more comfortable: an oversized t-shirt an pajama shorts. She wasn't going anywhere. No need to look all fancy. She took out her braids, letting the curl pattern that had formed take shape as she used her hands to tousle her hair. She turned on the sink in her bathroom, letting the water get warm as she grabbed a washcloth from the linen closet. She ran the rag under the faucet before adding a dab of her cleanser — washing the makeup and sweat from her face.

She was tired. Not sleepy, just tired. She walked over to the dresser in her bedroom and pulled on some fuzzy socks that she had hiding in the top drawer before walking out to her living room and dramatically flopping down onto the couch. Tinkerbell joined her, jumping up onto the coffee table and staring in Camila's direction. Camila sighed as she relaxed into the couch.

"Tinkerbell, I'm going to be honest with you..." she started. "Your mom had the best sex of her life last night. That's why I wasn't home." The cat looked at her with a blank face. "I'm sorry that I left you here alone but honestly I think you would've preferred that over us coming here to do that...stuff." She reached forward to pat the cat's head. "You'll understand when you're older...or, ya know...in heat. Anyway, all this to tell you that I showed up to work today only to find that this guy I slept with also works there. Can you believe that? I literally woke up in his bed this morning, go to work my first day at my new job and he's there. I mean, he told me it wouldn't happen again but now that we're coworkers I really don't think it's going to happen again." Camila hadn't even realized as she ranted that sweet, fluffy Tinkerbell had jumped off of the coffee table and wandered away to one of the other rooms. "What? A girl can't vent to her cat?" Camila mumbled to no one but herself before tugging on the blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch, covering herself up and laying her head down on the decorative throw pillow before grabbing the remote and turning on her favorite movie: The Princess Diaries.

She fell asleep. Of course she fell asleep. Did she really think she was going to be able to cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie in it's entirety without dozing off? She woke up in the evening, her stomach growling angrily. She knew exactly what she wanted, too. After delivering a basket of chicken tenders and french fries to a table earlier that day it was quite literally one of the only things she could think of. She grabbed her cell phone from the coffee table and tapped away at the screen, ordering a chicken tender basket for herself to be delivered via DoorDash. She didn't feel like going back out in public today. She stayed on the couch, nearly falling asleep again until she heard the knock at her apartment door about 45 minutes later. Camila jumped up, glancing in the mirror by the front door to make sure she looked at least somewhat presentable before greeting the delivery driver. The high-school aged boy didn't say anything to her as he handed her the bag of food, despite her attempt to make casual small talk in the form of asking him how his day was going. Whatever. She really was only interested in the meal anyway. She whispered a goodbye and shut the door to her apartment, happily skipping to her couch and sitting down to finally get some food in her stomach. She untied the bag and pulled out the styrofoam container containing her meal. Before she could open it, though, a note written on the receipt caught her eye.

Enjoy your tenders, peach. Save me a fry.

He finished the note with a winky face and small drawing of a peach. She had to admit, she was kind of impressed by how well drawn the little peach was. Not that it's the most difficult thing to draw — but still. It was a cute note. He must've seen her name on the receipt. She went to tear the receipt off of the styrofoam box when she noticed a phone number scribbled on the back in the same handwriting as the note. A conversation from the night before — the night they met — replayed in her mind.

-

"So are you just gonna keep flirting with me or are you going to give me your number?" Camila asked, her fingers snaking their way into the short hair at the nape of his neck.

"I'm not giving you my number," he chuckled darkly. "But if you feel like heading out of here and back to my place I'll give you a good time." His hand moved to her thigh, squeezing gently and enjoying the way she reacted.

"If you're into it, I'm into it..." she hummed. "Besides, by the time I'm done with you you'll probably be begging for me to take your number."

"You're a hook up," he reminded her. "Hook ups don't get my phone number. If I gave every girl that's been in my bed my phone number it'd never stop ringing. They always want more."

"You're all talk."

"Wanna find out?" He licked his lips as he stared down at her. Her eyes looked so innocent yet so sultry as she stared up at him through her eyelashes. He had never seen anything like it before. And her lips. God, her lips. Pink. Plump. Pouty. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"Let's go." Those were the only words she said before taking him by the hand and pulling him out of the bookstore.

-

She couldn't help but laugh. A bookstore. Of all places she went home with a random guy she met in a bookstore. If she told the story to anyone without the context of where they were they'd surely think they were in some trashy, dark nightclub. But no. She was sitting on a couch reading a book when he'd approached her, sitting next to her and peering over at what she had been reading. If he weren't so damn attractive she probably would've pushed him away. But she kind of liked how close he was to her, even if she didn't know him. She couldn't even remember how it turned into them naked in bed together. They were both sober but she felt drunk on him the entire time. Smiling at the memory, she grabbed her phone and added the phone number to her contacts before sending him a text.

C: I thought you don't give your number to hook ups? Saved you a fry, BTW.

S: I don't give my number to hook ups. Coworkers, however, are allowed to have my number. Thanks for the fry, peach. 🍑🍟