The Outlier

SEVENTEEN

It was midevening— around eight, I assumed— and the restaurant wasn't at all busy. La Bella Italia was Port Angeles' hotspot filled with plentiful Italian American food. The low, warm lighting of the restaurant made the restaurant a hit with couples. The discomfort of being surrounded by honeymoon-phase couples and their revolting public affection was hard to ignore. 

The host was a tall woman, the same height as me but somehow managed to carry herself with more grace than I could ever muster. The hostess looked nineteen to twenty, not too many years older than me. Her shallow wedges clicked and clacked against the hollow floorboards of the restaurant, gliding across wherever she walked. Her hair was an unnatural, dark violet-red— a colour that suited her remarkably. 

Her white oxford shirt had its top three buttons open, revealing her fleshy, pink chest. A silver butterfly pendant hung from her neck, the butterfly charm rested on her chest— the silver of her necklace and the blush on her skin contrasting greatly. 

'Amber' her name badge read. A pretty name for a pretty girl, I thought with warm approval. I stared at her for far too long. Edward spoke, interrupting the daze Amber trapped me in. 

"A table for two?" he requested. Amber's eyes stayed longer on Edward than I would have liked for them to, eventually, they flickered over to me, falling lower and looking at the hand Edward had over my lower back. 

"Get your hand off me," I grumbled angrily. As long as Amber was looking, Edward and I had nothing to do with each other— and the placement of his hand on my lower back did not help me look an eligible bachelorette. 

Edward's hand hesitantly peeled off of my lower back before he stuffed his hand into the pocket of his peacoat. 

"Right this way." She led us to a table that was large enough to seat twice our party. It was clear the extra chairs on the table were pulled away for others to use, leaving an awkwardly large space with only two chairs. I remained standing, the table was unsatisfactory. 

"Perhaps somewhere more private?" he urged with a coy and flirtatious smile, using the same technique he used on Angela and Jessica ten minutes prior. 

Fuck you, Edward Anthony Masen Cullen, I thought angrily, fuck you for wooing the girl I was admiring.

"Sure." I was sure she was wondering what a teenage boy could possibly need a private setting for. 

She made a swift turn, her long locks bouncing slightly as she walked. She led us to a secluded area of booths, the melodies coming from the speakers sounding much clearer where she planned to seat us. The lack of people in the area made the setting seem all the more romantic— something I didn't desire. 

Great. Now she thinks this is a date.

"This is perfect. Thank you," he said, flashing her with his entrancing smile, effectively staggering her for a moment. 

She blinked for a moment, trying to regain her poise. "Your server will be with you shortly." 

Much to my dismay, Amber retreated out of our sight. And our server appeared. I could see her pin-straight, bleached blonde hair in a side part as she stomped over to our table— heels clacking but not in the same pleasant way Amber's shoes did. 

"Hello. I'm Jackie and I'll be your server for the evening. What can I get you to drink?" Her body was turned away from me and completely facing Edward as she introduced herself. 

"Erm, I'll have coke," I spoke, feeling like I was talking to myself. 

"Two cokes," Edward said louder than I had, not bothering to look away from me. I bit my lip, trying to swallow the discomfort of his prying eyes.