☆. The Boy with Blue Eyes .☆

♡˚• Charisma - Ch.1

I woke up to the sound of my phone alarm blaring, the screen flashing 4:30 PM. Another late start, but nothing new. I rolled over, groaning as I buried my face in my pillow. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow through the blinds. I had another few hours before I had to head to my shift, but I knew there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. The shift would be long, and my body was already used to the late hours.
I lay there for a few minutes, scrolling through my phone, mindlessly checking texts and social media. Same old, same old. Nothing exciting. Just another day in the life of someone who worked the night shift at McDonald's. People always joked about how boring it must be, and honestly? They weren't wrong.
Life had become a repetitive cycle of work, eat, sleep, repeat. The only real excitement came from the occasional drama in the drive-thru or dealing with weird customers. Some people might find that unsettling, but for me, it was just part of the job.
I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face to wake myself up. The reflection in the mirror was nothing special. Dark circles under my eyes, hair still messy from sleep, and a face that hadn't been made up in ages. McDonald's didn't require a beauty pageant standard, thankfully.
The clock on the bathroom wall ticked on, reminding me that time wasn't going to wait. With a sigh, I rummaged through my closet, pulling out my McDonald's uniform: a red polo and a name tag that said clarifies I work there. I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of working another night, but it was a job, and I needed it. Plus, the routine was oddly comforting.
I tied my hair up in a messy bun and slipped into my sneakers. The last thing I needed was to make a grand entrance in a pair of heels. A quick glance at my reflection before heading out the door confirmed what I already knew—I wasn't looking to impress anyone tonight.
I grabbed my keys and wallet, then left my apartment, locking the door behind me. The streets outside were quieter than usual, a soft breeze carrying the sounds of the city. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing that suggested tonight would be any different from any other.
The drive to work was as uneventful as always. The streets were quiet, the city settling into its late-night rhythm. I cranked the volume on my playlist to drown out my tired thoughts, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel as I drove past familiar spots.

I was playing "Rain On Me", by Ashanti.

The neon lights from fast-food joints, gas stations, and convenience stores flickered in the distance, casting an almost eerie glow over the empty streets. It was the kind of quiet that was only broken by the hum of the engine and the occasional honk from some impatient driver.
I pulled into the parking lot of McDonald's and parked in the employee section, my car joining the other half-empty spaces. The building looked the same as always—bright, a little worn at the edges, but still standing strong. McDonald's had been my job for a while now, and no matter how much I complained about it, the truth was, it paid the bills. Plus, it was a job that didn't require too much thinking, which was kind of a relief after the chaos of life.
I grabbed my bag and headed inside, the door jingling as I pushed it open. The usual smell of fries and grease hit me almost immediately, mixing with the faint scent of cleaning supplies. A couple of the other night-shift workers were already there, chatting behind the counter as they waited for the rush to start.

"Hey," I greeted them, tossing my bag behind the counter and walking over to my coworker.

One of my coworkers, Claire, waved at me lazily from the fryer station. "Same old, same old," she muttered. "You ready for the usual madness?"

I chuckled dryly, tying my apron. "Isn't that what I signed up for?"

We both shared a knowing look. The night shift was never easy, but we always got through it—barely. The late-night crowds weren't too bad, unless it was a Friday or Saturday, when people came in after a night of partying, acting like they owned the place. Honestly, though, it was mostly just the regulars who came through. Same old faces, same orders. No surprises.
But I wasn't kidding myself. I knew that, just like every other night, something was bound to throw off the routine. The question was what.
I walked over to the register and took my spot behind the counter. The other employees started trickling in as well, and the usual chatter filled the air as we prepared for the next few hours.