♡ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ♡

1 6

Present day

The weeks go by, and again my life starts to feel more normal. I settle into a more routine life: school until three, work until seven, eat dinner, do homework, hang out with Johnny and the gang on Sunday, and repeat. It was just how it always had been, as it had been almost six months ago now.

Johnny and I were still going strong — on Sunday nights, after admiring the sunset with Ponyboy, we would walk to the lot together. Sometimes we'd talk, sometimes we'd say nothing, but most times we'd be tangled up by the fire, losing track of time until one of us panicked and we rushed home. I enjoyed it when we talked, though. That was something Jonathan and I never did, and I felt it added more depth to Johnny and I's relationship. It wasn't just lust, it was love. It was a genuine care for each other. And that feeling, I believe, can't be topped.

After one of those nights, one that was a mixture of tangled up and talking, I was floating around the diner doing what I always did and what was almost second nature at that point — taking orders, greeting customers with a friendly, half-fake smile, and waiting for the hour I could go home and eat my own food.

It was in the middle of the dinner rush that a group of well-dressed kids came in — Socs, of course, evident by their obnoxious laughter and cocky demeanor. I could tell they were buzzed, as one of them's speech was slightly slurred when stating their order to Crystal, their waitress.

Shortly after, to my surprise, Nathan came in and joined them, sitting beside one of them with gelled, white-blonde hair. We made brief eye contact, and I gave him a short wave from behind the counter before returning to my work. I kept an eye on them, though. These types of guys came in all the time, always looking to cause some kind of trouble, but usually never on a Monday night. After passing their table and ignoring a few drunken cat calls, I noticed the car keys lying in front of Nathan. Ah, I thought, a designated driver. I was honestly shocked they were responsible enough to volunteer him. Who was I kidding, Nathan probably volunteered himself.

One of the tables I was serving was only a few feet away from theirs, and nearly every time I would tend to the sweet family of four, one of the meatheads with Nathan would remark something smart, mistaking it for being flirty: "I wonder how that apron looks off of you," "Shoo-ey, girl! You can't hide those goodies with that old shirt on. Why don't we see how my jacket looks on you instead?"

They'd laugh, and I'd ignore them, like I always did. Nearly every time, Nathan would tell them sheepishly, "Cut it out, you guys," but he was always ignored. A part of me wondered if Nathan even had any real friends on the West side of town. The way they were treating him, it sure didn't seem like it.

Even though their orders had been at their tables for a good twenty minutes, they insisted on staying back, continuing to harass not just me, but also some of my coworkers. Poor little Crystal, who was just trying to fill up drinks at the bar, became one of the main focuses of their torment. They'd whistle and whoop and beg her to "just let us see you walk away." Crystal, who was barely fifteen and had just started working, was obviously disturbed and looked like she was about to cry. When I noticed it, I gently told her to go hang out in the back for a bit, that I would handle her section until they left and, if Linda had any questions, I'd explain later. She quietly nodded her head, put down her dish rag, and walked discreetly through the kitchen doors.

The guys were obviously upset by this, and when I happened to walk by, one of them with jet-black hair called me over with a rude whistle. "Why'd you send her away? Tell her to come back here, I want my milkshakes."

His face was so smug, so punchable, like he was so proud of what he'd said. It took every ounce of my self-control to not lay into him. "It was time for her break, that's all," I pulled out my notepad matter-of-factly, "I'll be taking care of y'all now. What milkshake do you want? We got vanilla, strawberry—"