Andrea thinks there's something quite peaceful about being away from Chatham. Maybe it's the lack of professors in her face about "untapped potential!" and "deadlines!" or the absence of her overly-invested peers bleeding anxiety onto every surface. Either way, she finds solace in The Diner, where the bustle is at just the right level for a restaurant, and everyone is interested only in themselves. She means this in the best way, of course. People focused on themselves rarely have time to focus on the outsider.
Andrea's not even sure how she found The Diner anymore, because it's just the kind of hole-in-the-wall place that's impossible to find if you aren't looking. Andrea certainly never went looking. The most logical explanation is that she stumbled upon it in the midst of a fit of paranoia, and just kept coming back. After all, it's tucked away next to the bookstore, Andrea's second-favorite place to hide.
"Can I take your order, or do you need a few more minutes?" Milo's words are mere formalities now, the script to be recited in front of every paying customer. Milo knows Andrea's order like the back of his hand: one short stack of banana pancakes and one lemonade, no ice.
"I'll have the usual, please," Andrea says quietly, and as predicted her heart beats faster as she utters those hallowed words: "the usual". She'd always wanted to become a regular at a small restaurant, know the staff intimately, and get her order straight away without having to say a word. Having a recognizable usual is the first step, so she's well on her way.
"You got it," Milo says, disappearing back into the kitchen. Andrea watches him go. He's a wispy sort of person, the kind that looks like they'd fly away if only the wind blew hard enough. He's been a waiter as long as she's been a patron, and the only change Andrea's observed is the addition of large black glasses that often slide down his nose. She once worked up the courage to ask about them, four months after she first noticed their existence. "You're a little late," he'd said, laughing, "but yeah, I got sick of contacts. Do you want dessert?"
Andrea never wants dessert, and the only annoying trait Milo has is his inability to understand this. Can't he tell she can't afford any extra carbs? Pancakes are one thing (they're heavenly) but a slice of chocolate cake is quite another. Milo used to joke he'd buy her a slice himself one day, but stopped when Andrea never smiled. She longed to tell him he really was funny sometimes, every now and then, on rare occasions, and that it was all her fault; she didn't smile at anyone.
"There you go. Careful, the plate's hot," Milo says, like always.
"Thank you," Andrea says, like always, and watches as Milo grins and wanders over to the next table. Her eyes follow him around The Diner, and she observes as he interacts with the rest of the customers. He cracks a joke for a middle-aged woman and her daughter. He refills an old man's glass with a smile. He spends a minute or two in easy conversation with a woman in the corner who also ordered pancakes. Andrea sighs. She'd give anything to be like that. Fearless. Of course, she knows Milo isn't truly fearless (upon finding a spider on her plate last year, she'd called him over. "Can you kill it?" he'd asked. "I'm too scared"). He has a form of fearlessness, though, the one Andrea wants the most: people fearlessness. He doesn't seem bothered by small talk or the fact that people are always watching. Andrea bets he's never once worried about what strangers think of him on the street, or had an anxiety attack ordering a coffee, or run to the nurse's office in tears due to an oral presentation. She bets girls fall all over themselves for him. She doesn't want to admit that's the real problem.
Andrea squeezes her fork in her hand. Breathe. Cut a piece of pancake. Don't think of the pretty pancake girl in the corner whose eyes are also following Milo, but for a different reason. Don't think about how you wish her eyes were following you.
"You okay?" she hears Milo ask. Her eyes snap open.
"Yeah. Tired."
"I'm sorry, Chatham must be killer."
Andrea doesn't question why Milo knows she goes to Chatham (if she'd asked, he would have told her that the first time she'd stumbled into The Diner as a distraught, panicking freshman, she'd still been wearing her Chatham Prep uniform) and instead nods silently. Milo makes a noise of sympathy, then says, "let me know when you need the check."
"Okay," Andrea says. Even though she's finished, it will be a while until she pays, and Milo knows. He's watched her sit at her small table for one with a dazed expression too many times to count, the second half of her pancakes left cold and uneaten on the plate. He doesn't know where she goes, but he's happy to let her sit there uninterrupted. After all, there's never anyone waiting.
-
ok that was fun *sighs worriedly*
the picture at the top is andrea, of course. it was hard finding a picture of maia mitchell where she's not smiling haha. feel free to check out the cast list, i worked hard on it... also gregory is young jared padalecki as in when he was dean from gilmore girls bc that is the EXACT look i want for gregory (who you haven't met yet but he's coming soon) but i couldn't find anyone else so young jared padalecki it is.
so enjoy yourselves and please don't hate me too much.
also:: i finally figured out dedication stuffs so this goes out to defend aka mariam whose stories basically inspired me to write on here (as cheesy as that is ik i'm trash) idk i just remember reading 11 o'clock number on my old account and wishing i could do that myself and write that well *sighs* ok pls don't hate me (this seems to be a running theme)
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Pancakes at The Diner (on pause)
Teen FictionThe Diner has seen its fair share of the people of Midland, New York. There's Andrea, who doesn't quite know why she keeps coming back, save for the fact that it's the only place she doesn't feel constantly watched. There's Gregory, who people-watch...