This Rose Bleeds

Chapter ~One~

AN: Is this deja vu? BECAUSE HERE WE GO AGAIN! READY TO HAVE YOUR HEARTS BROKEN? BECAUSE IM BACK WITH A BAT. I've revised and made the story make a liiiiittle more sense, but it still carries a lot of nuances from like 2012. I kept as much as possible the same from the old story, yes, including everything that is hella cringe now. JUST FOR YOU. On the other hand, Nate's wages make much more sense now that I am not a literal child. Hopefully y'all don't hate me like in the first draft. I was such a young writer back then *sniff*

ANYWAY, PLS ENJOY AND LET ME KNOW YOUR BEAUTIFUL THOUGHTS AND REACTIONS! THANK YOU FOR READING!

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The black double vest fit annoyingly well. The silky cloth fit snugly over the white crisp dress shirt with the black tie tucked in. It made me wonder, not for the first time, how Kristy knew my size.

Speaking of the creeper, I thought, as she poked her head in the back room to check if I was ready.

"Hurry, table six is requesting you."

She tried to blind me with one of her dazzling smiles before turning away with a wave of her long blond braid.

I made sure the long sleeves on the dress shirt allowed the cuff to brush my palms before I stepped out to the front of the shop. As usual, the brightly lit café had half of the tables taken by the regular customers. Honestly, it was more of a mini restaurant then a café. Still, it was my living.

The Red Rose Café originally hired me to work in the kitchen. I was a decent cook, though Kristy told me otherwise. She would always steel the readied cake slices and cookies when she had a chance. Her grandmother would often scold her–Mrs. Clair was the owner.

One day, however, Mrs. Clair's nitwit of a daughter dragged me out from behind the kitchen. One of our newer customers, a woman in her late twenties, wanted to compliment whoever had baked the cake she feasted on. She took one look at me and for some reason dropped her plate. We were lucky I was able to catch it on time. Mrs. Clair and Kristy had an exchange of words before I was given a new uniform. The next day I had been "promoted" as they said, to a host that worked out front.

At first I seriously had no idea what I was doing. But the customers seemed to like me, and I stuck with it. After all, Mrs. Clair offered a higher pay. I needed the money.

Now, I walked over to table six where two girls in their teens waited. I recognize them–these two came every Saturday for the cake and hot chocolate. The majority of the regular visitors were people of the like, girls. I thought it was because of the relaxed and simple theme the café represented, but when I started as a host and the amount of usual customers rose, Kristy had a different theory she wouldn't tell me.

"Hey Nathan." They greeted.

I smiled politely and tipped my head in greeting. "Good evening ladies." I took out the small note pad from the black cloth pouch that hung on my waist. "The usual?"

They giggled strangely and nodded.

I walked to the counter where Kristy was arranging the sweets and handed her the paper. "Is your fresh cake out yet?" She glanced at it, then at the girls at the table, and rolled her eyes. "What?" I asked.

"Why do they even order?"

"What?" She laughed and nibbled on a cookie before responding with a smirk, "They only order because you're serving them. They barely even eat what they pay for."