meant to be yours | d.w

8

"He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you. But he thinks, this is a lie, so he says in the end, you're dead, nothing can hurt you"

"Will that be all sir?" I asked politely with a fake smile plastered on my face.

It was practically impossible to stay calm in a situation like this. This job really put in perspective the hell waitresses go through.

A cheeky grin grew on his face, making me internally groan for what I was immensely positive was coming. He looked to be not much older than me, probably two years at most. I'm sixteen, but I turn seventeen at the end of the summer.

Regardless of what my age is, I still deserve respect.

"How bout an extra tip for the paying customer?"

Some might find it exciting to be asked out, and it can be. That feeling of giddiness is unmatched, it makes you believe that there's somebody who wants you. But when all you want to do is go home, it isn't the most flattering compliment.

"Sorry, I have a boyfriend." I said, using probably the most used excuse women use on sleazy men.

But alas, this boy who was no doubt a greaser with his leather jacket and greased up hair didn't buy it one bit. He has alluring features, giving him a sly almost catlike sort of look. Perhaps his resemblance to the feline connects to his intelligence level.

"I don't see him." He remarked, looking around the diner as if to find my supposed significant other.

Sarcasm, funny, now can't you pay for your stupid meal?

"It's not like I even asked you out." The boy said with a chuckle.

"Just pay the damn check." I muttered before I ushered myself away from the table.

A faint snicker could be heard from behind me. There goes my now non existent tip. And instead of earning a couple cents I was earning a pleasant lecture from my boss. There, sarcasm, maybe it can be humorous.

Evie was working at the register, filing her nails with upmost care since business was beginning to die more and more down as the hours went by.

"I'm sick of men." I groaned, glancing over the guy sitting in his own small booth.

It's funny, he surely didn't seem like the type to do that sort of thing, be alone. Isn't greaser code against that kind of idea? But then again, what do I even know. Maybe being a loner is considered cool, I've only been here for about a month.

"Amen to that," Evie agreed, smiling at the customer coming to get their food to go, instantly taking off her grin when he exited the building. "Who was it?" she asked, coming to stand next to me as she surveyed the diner with her beady dark eyes.

Before I could even respond, Evie immediately answered for me. "It was Shepard wasn't it."

I raised an eyebrow, confused about who she was talking about. Evie seemed to notice my confusion.

"He's the one sitting alone in the back," She explained briefly. "I'd be careful with him, he's quite the rattlesnake that guy." She then said with a shake of the head.

As much as this job could suck, Evie working there made it all the better. And besides, the tips are pretty good.

"I was thinking more of a cat." I said, surveying him for a moment like some kind of a stalker.

I drew my eyes away from the guy, taking the tips out of my pockets, counting every dollar and coin. Evie only laughed at my comment, breaking away from our conversation to speak with a customer.