Perfect (Book 1)

Helping Yourself

A/N: Hello my lovelies! I'm uploading a shorter chapter tonight, because 1. I'm lazy and 2. I needed to cut it off because the next part will be a fun ride for the next chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 13

I wanted to run. Scream. Cry. Something; anything to get away from Braden.

No, I needed to try to fend for myself for once. I would be fine. There was an opening in the wall. If he did anything, there were people around.

I would be fine. I just couldn't show any sign of weakness.

Which is exactly why I stood there, trembling like the wimp I was.

"Aw, you look so scared," he cooed before putting his arm around me, "You have no reason to be scared of me, well actually...that's a lie," he chided with his mouth too close to my ear.

I cringed away from him and backed up towards the wall. "Can you just teach me how to do my job?" I murmured softly, avoiding eye contact.

He chuckled, "I'll never understand what Hoying sees in you," he commented.

...

The sooner it got to closing time, the more nervous I got. Braden was on closing duty, and Mark asked me to stay and help him.

Braden settled for childish insults throughout the evening, and I did my best to ignore him and keep the dishes from piling up.

At the end of the dinner rush, they started piling up much quicker. One of the chefs stood at the opening and he didn't look pleased.

"Hurry it up in there," he barked at me.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out as I quickly scrubbed a large pot before drying it and putting it out on the cart.

I looked towards Braden who was sitting back with a smug grin, "You could help me, you know," I snapped at him.

"I was told to teach you the ropes. You know what you're doing," he retorted.

"Maybe I should tell Mark and we'll see what he has to say about it," I threatened boldly.

Braden rolled his eyes and stood up, "Snitchy Mitchy at his finest," he grumbled before assisting me.

Although he insulted me, I was still slightly proud of myself.

By the time 10 o clock rolled around, I was exhausted. My hands ached, and if I stared at crusty food for another second I would vomit again.

"Uh oh, looks like we're all alone," Braden taunted.

I forced myself not to respond. I was too tired to deal with him right now. I grabbed the last few dishes that I'd dried off and stacked them on top of each other before pushing the washroom door open with my feet.

What I wasn't prepared for was two hands shoving me from behind. I gasped and tripped over my own feet before crashing face first onto the floor. The sound of dishes clanking against the tile echoed throughout the poorly lit, empty kitchen.

I winced before Braden turned me over and glared down at me, "Don't ignore me you little fuck," he spat at me.

I flared my nostrils angrily before swatting his hand away and standing up, glaring at him in the process, "What did I ever do to you? You've been harassing me for 4 years," I pointed out.

"For starters you got me a week of detention. Besides that you're a pretentious know-it-all, and just really annoying," he retorted.

"You're seriously still upset over that? It was 4 years ago," I pointed out.