Twisted Fate || Loki Odinson

16.

I push open the door to the locker room, the familiar scent of cleaning supplies and stale coffee greeting me. I tuck my purse and coat into my locker, grab my apron, and tie it around my waist with practiced efficiency.

Just as I'm finishing up, the door swings open, and Scott strides in. His presence immediately fills the room with an unwelcome tension. "Cassie," he says, his tone more condescending than necessary, "can I have a word?"

I turn to face him, forcing a polite smile. "Sure, Scott. What's up?"

He crosses his arms, leaning against the lockers with an arrogant smirk. "You and Fiona switched shifts. Why wasn't I informed about this first?"

I suppress an eye roll. "We figured it wouldn't be a big deal. Everything's still covered."

His eyes narrow slightly. "You figured, huh? Well, next time, I'd appreciate being asked first."

"Got it," I say shortly, hoping to end the conversation quickly.

But he isn't done. 

He steps closer, his gaze shifting to something more suggestive. "You know, Cassie, there are ways to make it up to me."

My stomach churns, a wave of disgust washing over me. "Excuse me?"

He leans in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I mean, I can think of a few things you could do to make up for not asking me. Things that might even be... enjoyable for both of us."

I stiffen, every instinct screaming at me to get away from him. "I don't think so," I say, my voice hard and cold. "I'll make sure to ask you next time."

His smile falters, replaced by a sneer. "No need to get all defensive, Cassie. Just trying to be friendly."

"Yeah, well, maybe don't," I retort, stepping back and putting as much distance between us as the small room allows.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Fine, whatever. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

Without another word, he turns and stalks out of the locker room. I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the sense of unease. 

I am not going to let him get to me. 

Swallowing hard, I shut my locker and walk out to the dining room, each step feeling heavier than usual. The familiar hustle and bustle of the diner surrounds me, but I can't shake off the lingering unease from my encounter with Scott. I walk over to the seating chart and examine it, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"Hey, Cassie." Fiona's voice pulls me from my thoughts. I look up to see her passing by the counter with a couple of plates balanced expertly in her hands. "Thanks again for switching shifts with me."

"It's no problem," I shrug, forcing a smile. "I needed a change of pace anyway."

Her lips tug back, and she winks at me. "I owe you one." I watch as she walks out into the dining room, her confidence and ease a sharp contrast to the tension still coiling in my stomach. I direct my attention back to the chart.

Looks like I've got Reed's tables.

After memorizing my section, I walk out to the dining room, checking on each table methodically. The routine of greeting customers and ensuring they're satisfied brings a small sense of normalcy. Once I've checked on each table, I approach the kitchen window and check on the food underneath the hot lamp.

"Hey, Emily, table 5's orders are ready," I call out as I look over at Emily, who's filling a glass with Coke.

Emily slides the glass over to the man sitting at the counter. "Thanks, Cass."

"Mhm," I hum, scanning the tickets that are hanging up. "Where's that BLT with extra bacon?"

"I'm making it right now," Ben responds, his focus unwavering as he works.

"Okay, cool," I nod, appreciating his efficiency. "Let's push that first and then..." I compare the times on the tickets, trying to keep the orders flowing smoothly. "Make a burger plain with fries."

"Got it," Kyle answers, already moving to start the next order.

"Awesome. Thanks, guys." I turn back towards the dining room and glance around when I notice an older couple rise from their table and walk towards the front door. Their smiles bring a brief moment of genuine warmth.

"Have a good night!" I call out, my voice lighter.

The older man smiles back. "Thank you."

The woman waves. "You too."

I smile at the pair before grabbing a dishtub. I walk over to their table and start piling the dishes into the tub, the clinking of the plates and silverware grounding me. As I take the tub back to the dish sink, I can't help but replay the encounter with Scott in my mind. His words, his tone, the way he invaded my space-- all of it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I scrub a plate with a little more force than necessary, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease. 

I can't let him get to me. I'm stronger than that. 

The routine of the diner, the familiar faces of my coworkers, and the small moments of kindness from customers-- they all remind me that I can handle this. 

I will handle this.

|| || ||

I drag myself inside my warm, quiet house and shut the door behind me, letting the day's stress fall away with a sigh. I do the usual: pull off my jacket, kick off my shoes, and toss my keys on the table. My eyes land on Loki, lounging on the couch with an air of casual elegance that only he can pull off.

My lips tug into a small smile before I walk past the couch and head toward the bathroom. I step inside, kicking the door back to where it's left slightly ajar. I strip off my work shirt and toss it into the basket, feeling the day's grime and exhaustion cling to my skin. I reach around to unclip my bra, inhaling sharply at the soreness in my muscles. My fingers fumble with the clips, and my brows furrow in frustration when the bra doesn't come loose. I realize the last clip is caught on the lace details at the back.

Great.

The door creaks slightly, and I turn my head to see Loki leaning against the doorway, shirtless. His presence fills the small space with an electric charge. "Jesus! How long have you been standing there?" I question, crossing my arms over my chest instinctively.

"Not long," Loki shrugs, his voice a smooth blend of amusement and nonchalance. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get my bra off, but it's stuck," I admit, my voice tinged with frustration.

"Would you like some help?" he offers, his tone almost too innocent.

I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure you'd love it if I asked you for help."

He rolls his eyes in response. "Alright, come on then. Show me that you don't need my help."

I huff in annoyance. "I will."

Turning away from him, I reach back again, determined to solve this myself. I grab the clip with one hand and attempt to maneuver it out of the lace it's caught in. "Just give me one... second." I grit my teeth, ignoring the soreness seeping through my muscles as I pull at the clip.

He chuckles softly, the sound both infuriating and oddly comforting. "All right, this is just ridiculous."

I tense up when I feel his soft fingers take the clasp from me, his touch surprisingly gentle. He carefully starts untangling it, and I slowly turn my head toward the mirror we're standing in front of. My face warms as I watch him, his concentration intense and his touch delicate. He tilts his head slightly as he unhooks the clip from the lace. I gasp when my bra almost slips off, quickly pressing a hand against my chest to keep myself covered. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and a jolt of something unspoken passes between us.

"Thanks," I manage to say, my voice softer than I intended.

His lips curve into a knowing smile. "My pleasure."

With that, he leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I let out the breath I was holding, my heart pounding in my chest.