For the past year, 18 year old Camille has been getting away with four hours of sleep, a nine hour school day and an eight hour work day overnight. That is until her three teachers and a mystery guy walk into her diner one night.
NOTE: THIS IS A 'W...
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As I pour myself another cup of coffee at work, I feel more relaxed than I have in a while. Knowing that my teachers will be lenient towards deadlines takes a big pressure off me having to crank out half-assed attempts whilst I'm prying my eyes to stay open at work.
Plus, getting some more sleep really put things in perspective.
I feel like a fog has been cleared from my mind. I can think clearly and actually spend half a second on myself.
I pull out my earphones and stick one in my ear, letting the music wash over my body. I find myself swaying my hips to the beat as I clean sauce bottles on the back wall.
This must be what relaxation feels like. I hum along to the music seeing as no one is in the diner right now, other than the chef who is probably sexting his girlfriend again.
"What song you listening to, Miss Owens."
I freeze and my cheeks turn red. Fuck sake.
I turn around and am faced with my three teachers, but I note no mystery guy today.
"Why are you guys here again?" I ask them.
"It's nice to see you too, Camille," Mr Laurent smirks. My name sounds so sexy in his French accent.
No Camille! They are literally just being nice to you and you are catching feelings.
Down girl.
"Sit wherever you'd like," I mumble embarrassed. They all look at me for a second before choosing the same booth as last night.
I pour three cups of coffee and carry them over to their table. As I set them down, I see their eyes on my outfit. Today, I had chosen to wear a black midi dress with a black long knitted cardigan. The dress really accentuates my curves and is always my go-to when I want to feel good about myself. I have my white apron across my waist and my hair up in a messy ponytail like I had at school.
"Are you ready to order," I tap my pen against my notepad. They all snap out of their daze and focus their eyes on mine as they one-by-one rattle off their order.
I pass the order to the chef and walk back to the counter to grab my coffee. I lean against it and take a sip, in a complete daydream.
About what? I can't even tell you. You know when you just stare into space but think nothing? That's what I'm doing right now.
"Camille," I hear Mr Hart call me over. I take a breath and walk to their booth.
"Sit," Mr Whitlock instructs me and I roll my eyes.
"I'm not a dog."
"Don't roll your eyes at me, Miss Owens," he says with a hint of danger in his voice. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.
"Is there something I can help my teachers with at this fine hour?" I ask sarcastically.
"Brat," I hear Mr Hart mutter under his breath, forcing another eyeroll out of me.
"We wanted to talk to you about something," Mr Laurent says softly to me. I nod for him to continue. "Since you work five days a week here, how would you feel if, for the school nights you work, we took it in turns to come tutor you with your homework?"
I blink at him. Why would they want to give up their time to help me?
"I...I...uhm..." I stutter, trying to think it through. The bell for service rings and I stand up to grab their food. I feel a strong hand on my arm and tingles shoot through my body like electricity.
"What's your answer, Camille," Mr Hart asks from beside me.
I pause for a second to contemplate it. Would it be weird hanging out with my teachers every night? Eh, at least I wouldn't have to deal with the chef on my own and it would only be for like an hour. What's the worst that can happen?
"Okay," I shrug my shoulders and I see smiles spread across their faces. He lets go of my arm and I feel a weirdly sad feeling that he isn't touching me anymore. I rush to grab their food as the chef hits the bell again in irritation.
As I walk back to the table with their order, I see them all talking quietly amongst themselves. They quieten when I reach the table and I raise an eyebrow in confusion. Like the night before, they push some of their food to me and force me to eat.
"So, you will do one night for each subject, then a night where all of us are here for a kind of rest day. Does that sound okay?" Mr Laurent asks me.
"Yes. Thank you, sirs," I say gratefully. I'm just happy to have some company. I notice they pause and stare at me after I say this, their eyes going dark for a second before returning back to their previous state.
"It might also be easier if you address us by name as the whole Mr Hart thing can get a bit tedious when it's just us," Mr Hart says.
"O..okay" I nod.
"You can call me Gabriel," Mr Laurent says.
"I'm Josh," Mr Whitlock nods to me.
"And I'm Luka," Mr Hart says.
"I might not remember them for a bit. I'm really bad with names," I nervously chuckle.
They laugh and engage in random conversations with me until the end of my shift. Afterwards, they drive me back to my house, where I almost fall asleep in the backseat.
As soon as my head hits my pillow, butterflies erupt in my stomach at the thought of having one-on-one time with them.
