Sorry sister

+ t h r e e

A/N: sorry for the late update, but this chapter is a bit longer ;) enjoy!

It was almost one in the afternoon when I decided to have a break. I was working from nine o'clock, going back and forward to take the orders and refer them to the barman. I absolutely deserve a break.

If someone asks me why I don't work out, I always answer "'Cause of my damn job". Yeah, I know. Call me a lazy, fat ass, I don't care.

And, by the way, it's not true that I don't do any working out: sometimes I go to the gym and do some boxing. It's a good exercise to let out all the tension and bad feelings that grow day by day into my body.

"Thomson!", the boss calls me.

"What?", I mutter, annoyed (as usual).

"Did I say that you can have a break?"

"I thought I heard something-"

"No! You didn't."

Okay, at least I tried.

"Alright, Miss," I say while standing up and finishing my glass of water that Jeremy- the barman -gave me when I sat down earlier.

The boss goes away and I puff. The voice of that woman is something hysterical. It makes me want to tear my hair for how much I hate it.

"Don't be so pissed, man. She already is enough for everyone," the barman says, chuckling.

"I know, Jer, I know. But she's so... so..."

"Hysterical?"

"Yes, she's fucking hysterical!"

I don't swear that much, but when we talk about Miss Lils, everything is legit and necessary.

"I know, man. Just, calm down and ask that guy what he wants to drink, eat or whatever he wants, and then come back to me and tell me", he says, slowly, as if he were talking to a child.

"You know that this is my job and I know how to do it, right?"

"Well, it's better to remember you when you're pissed off. Or you would do something else. Like, I don't know, decide to punch that poor costumer right in the face for no reason."

Yeah, we both know I could actually do it.

"You know, I would like to punch someone in the face right now and it's not the guy over there," I say, looking at him intently and giving him the empty glass back.

"Okay, now I'm scared," he says avoiding my glare. I think he is actually afraid of me, sometimes. And I like it.

"Fine. I'll go ask him," I finish our conversation and walk to the table number seven.

The guy is sitting in a relaxed position: almost laying down on the chair with the harms crossed on his chest, covered by a black tight t-shirt, and the legs stretched; his eyes looking outside of the cafe, through the glass-door.

"Hello", I say with a flat and bored voice (I can't be happy every single time I serve a costumer, sorry) and his face turns quickly in my direction.

"So, what would you like to order?" I continue, without looking at him, but at my notepad ready to write down anything he'll say.

"I think I will have a toast and some still water," he answers with a voice that could seem flat as mine, but it isn't: it is actually polite.

"Alright," I mumble while writing down his order, keeping the pen cap between my lips.

When I'm finished, I look down at him. He's wearing sunglasses. I hate when people wear sunglasses, even if today is sunny, because I can't have a real eye-contact with them.

"Thanks," he says with a smile.

"You're welcome."

I turn around and make my way to the kitchen.

"A toast and some still water for the guy sitting at table number seven", I say to Jeremy.

"Ah, you made it, see? Was it that difficult, man?" He asks me with his Scottish accent.

"A little and it was boring."

"Okay, whatever. Here you are the water. The toast is coming," he says giving me a tray with a glass and a small bottle of water. I grab it and go to the table.

The sunglasses-guy is checking his phone.

"Here you have your water. The toast is coming in a sec."

"Thanks. I have to be quick 'cause I have to pick up my sister from school."

I nod, while putting the tray on the table thinking that I don't care about what he has to do or why.

His phone rings, he looks at it and then at me, saying "No, I was kidding. My sister got a detention; I have all the time on earth to have my toast."

"Okay," I reply, totally disinterested.

Why is he telling me all his and his sister's business? I really don't care.

"Have you got a sister?"

...What the heck?

"Yeah," I answer confused, don't knowing what to say. He is so weird; why would he want to know if I, the waiter, have a sister?

"You understand my problems then. She got a detention for the millionth time this month, gosh."

"Yeah I kinda understand," I say while starting to walk backwards, trying to get away from him.

"And every time I have to pick her up because my parents don't give a fuck about us."

"Yes, I know the feeling," I keep saying, really don't knowing why on Earth he's telling me all of this and how I should behave. But, actually I know how he feels.

"And every single time I have-"

"Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt you," I start saying, as politely as I can, to make him stop talking. The truth is that I also don't give a fuck about him and his problems, not just his parents. "But I really have to go to the cash- no the kitchen 'cause they need me for some... things."

I quickly vanish and then almost run to the back of the Cafe.

I really don't understand people like him. Why the heck do you have to tell me what you have to do, what your sister did and a lot of other things that I absolutely didn't ask you about? No idea.

"Why were you running away from that guy?" Paul asks.

"I was not running away. I was just walking really quickly away from him and his long tongue."

"Okay, but why?"

"Okay, let's do it this this way: you go and give him the toast when it's ready. Then, you'll have to try and tell me why I was running away."

He just nods and then chuckles a bit.

"You're a weirdo, ya know it?"

"Maybe. But he certainly is too."