Reluctant Hearts | Harry Styles

Chapter 10

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"No, because when I woke up, he was gone," Malcolm, my coworker, exclaimed aggressively, vigorously wiping the menus clean in his hand.

"What! He's a dick. You don't deserve someone like him," I scoffed, deftly filling the desired drinks for the customers at my tables.

"Yeah, but he actually came back with breakfast," Malcolm added nonchalantly, his expression sheepish.

I paused mid-pour, glancing up at Malcolm's sheepish smile. "Then I don't get why you're mad at him, Mal," I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief.

"I don't know either! He has no fault, which makes me even madder. He's like... too perfe-," Malcolm trailed off.

"Now I know you both are not gossiping at the workplace" A sudden voice interrupted Malcolm. We both froze, recognizing the voice of our manager.

"Of course not, boss. Just two hardworking professionals... working," Malcolm quickly responded, flashing his best smile.

Our manager, Jerry, hummed disapprovingly. "Of course you two are. Don't make me have to separate the both of you like we're in elementary school again. Get back to work before I schedule you two different shifts."

"Always the joy killer" I breathed out as Jerry left.

"Yeah, he needs to get laid or something," Malcolm rolled his eyes, voicing his distaste for our manager.

I finished pouring the assortments of drinks from beer to water as requested to bring them to the tables. Grabbing straws to stuff into my waitress apron, I spun out of the kitchen and into the dining area. I stepped into the bustling and lively atmosphere, and I couldn't help but smile. The clinking of silverware, the soft murmurs of conversation, and the tantalizing aroma of food filled the air, creating an ambiance that is both comforting and invigorating.

Tonight, the rush wasn't overwhelming, but it was steady enough to keep me on my toes. I navigated through the dining area, balancing trays filled with delicious dishes, ensuring each customer receives the utmost attention. It was a dance I have perfected, a rhythm that guided me through the chaos.

As the evening progressed, I gracefully weaved through the restaurant, taking orders and attending to the needs of the diners. The slight rush of customers added a delightful mayhem to the atmosphere. With each interaction, I left a trace of positivity and warmth, ensuring that everyone felt welcomed and cherished.

Amidst the controlled pleasant chaos, I stole glances at the clock, eager for the closing hour to approach. I anticipated the tranquility that would follow, the moment when I could finally unwind and escape the relentless demands of the evening.

I found myself tidying up, wiping down tables, and clearing away remnants of laughter and conversations. The air was beginning to settle, signaling the approaching end of my shift.

But fate had a different plan in store for me tonight. As I moved from table to table, a sense of unease tugged at my consciousness. It was an unsettling feeling, as if the universe is conspiring to test my resilience. And then, as I glanced up from clearing a table, I saw him. I hesitated, my steps faltering for a moment, a heartbeat suspended in time.

Riley.

My ex-boyfriend strutted into the restaurant carrying himself with a demeanor of superiority that had become all too familiar. The air thickened, charged with a tension that radiated from his very presence. My heart leaped into a frenzied rhythm, and my hands trembled involuntarily. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, my senses on high alert.