𝐴𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑| 𝑅𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟 ✔

XXXV

I was staring at the sort of 50s style white dress that was now going to be my uniform. Roger wasn't wrong about it being admirable. It's not at all what I expected, it was a slim white dress with a black and white tartan apron on the skirt, which sort of had ruffles on it.

I was surprised when I was told that this was going to be my uniform. It was nicer than some of the stuff I owned.

I was in a private room, so I could change, since this was my first day. I put the white dress on, then tied the apron from the back, I placed my clothes into the black leather bag I brought with me.

I set my bag on a peg with all the other bags and walked out to begin my shift. I was more nervous about starting this job, since it meant actually communicating with more people, whereas in the flower shop it was just me, Jane and a few customers a day.

Not much happened at work, I wasn't as awkward as I thought I'd be. There was hardly any customers, other than a few day-drinkers and people in for breakfast, it was quiet. But I knew it wouldn't be like that on night shifts.

I took my bag from the peg and walked back to the flat. The living room furniture was almost completely different, the small dining table was where the TV used to be, the TV was against another wall, next to the bedroom door, the couch was in the same position just rotated round to face the telly, and the drums where in the corner of where the dining table used to be.

It was still unusual coming home to see the living room like this, but I was slowly getting used to it.

Roger was visiting his sister, Clare, he asked if i could come to meet her, but unfortunately I had to decline since it was my first day at work, but I assured him I'd make it next time.

I threw my bag on the couch, and threw myself onto the couch, too lazy and exhausted from last night and today to change clothes. I was up all night and couldn't fall asleep for whatever reason.

I decided to just fall asleep on the couch for a while.

After a while, I woke up to the sound of the door opening, I squinted my eyes to look at the clock. 7:48.

I blinked a few times to lose some of the tiredness, and sitting up, to find Roger taking off his fur coat and his pink glittery converse.

He flipped his head towards the couch where I was sitting. "Hi" he said, giving me a warm smile, as he walked over to me.

"Hi" I said back, my voice husky, and barely over a whisper.

I stood up from the couch to encircle my arms around his torso, resting my head against his chest. His arms border my frame, and he kisses the side of my head.

"So, how was your first day as a waitress?" he asked, after a comfortable moment of just standing there.

He sat down on the couch, while I sat next to him, bringing my knees on the soft cushion, and leaning my head on his shoulder, his arm around my shoulder.

"It was fine. I have a night shift tomorrow, so I'm sure it'll be a different situation then. But my first day was alright" I explain.

"Don't worry about your night shift. I'll be on stage watching you" he assured, smirking. I angled my head up, where our faces was just an inch apart. Brushing my lips over his, he pulled back. "Is this the dress?" he questioned, trying to get a better look at it.

I stood up to show him the full thing, he let out a wolf-whistle, causing a heat to creep up my neck. "Go on, then, give us a spin" he grinned, leaning back against the couch, as I obliged to his soft command.

"Well, what do you think?" I ask, placing my hands on my hips, as I bore my eyes into his baby blues.

He looked down first, his eyes roaming themselves up my figure, to my eyes again. Grinning, he answered, "I think it looks amazing on you, love".

I timidly walked over to him, leaning down, to place both hands on his neck, as I pressed my lips against his, his arms continuing to rest in the same position.

After a moment, I pulled my face back slightly, smiling at each other, his hands roamed up my calfs until they reached the back of my knees, where he placed one of my legs beside his thigh, then the other, until I was seated on his lap.

I roamed my fingers through his blonde locks, as his hands were firmly placed on my waist.

After a while, we both pulled back for air, panting like dogs.

I climbed off of his lap, his hand trying to lock mine, groaning.

"I half to go change. I've been in this uniform all day, it might look nice, but it's itchy as hell" I told him, trying to take my hand out of his easy grip.

He took my hand again, grinning like an idiot, as his hand kept trying to take mine, he sat up and started tracing his hands up my arm, as I laughed. "You'll see me in it tomorrow!" I reminded, hoping he'd let go, so I'd stop itching in this thing.

"Fine" he gave up, pecking my lips before letting me go change.

When I closed the bedroom door, I had a gut instinct, I wanted to tell him something badly, but there was a part deep inside me that was stopping me, that part kept telling me how I was guaranteed to end up heartbroken. But how could I end up heartbroken if everything was going fine? I didn't know, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to find out, although that feeling made me wonder if everything that's good must come to an end eventually. After a while of standing at the door, pondering and debating with myself, I brushed it off and changed my clothes.