The Aristocratic Cavalier

Chapter Seven

The next day, before work, I decided to do some spring cleaning. This cleaning consisted of 40% cleaning, 60% reminiscing in the remains of my childhood. I rummaged through some of my various journals I wrote throughout my early years back home. I flipped to the one page that I loathed most. It covered my horror story from my senior prom... Even now, I still cringed, and sometimes even teared up, whenever I read it.

April 19th, 2012,

Dear diary

I was invited to prom by one of Eastwood High's cutest inhabitants, Trevor Johnson. I was constantly racking my brain over why in the world he would choose me... Of all the pretty girls in this school, he chose me. It was all too good to be true... literally. It had all been a hoax, a cruel, inhumane hoax. They had planned one final prank that would send them off into the sunset that was college, and boy would they remember it all their lives! I sure as hell did.

For most of the night, Trevor was a complete gentleman. He brought me out to dinner beforehand, and even asked about my childhood. It was going amazing. Then, he asked me to meet him out in the hall in ten minutes, which my stupid mind decided to follow. It was the most practical of practical jokes, only minus out the part of it being humorous to the person involved. I walked out into that hall expecting to be swept away by my prince charming, but Prince Trevor ended up being the villain in this short story. I continued my stride into the hall, and I remember something cracking. Before I could even begin to comprehend what the sound was, a sticky, blue liquid that reeked like the B.O. of a 12 year old boy spilt all over me, staining my perfectly white dress. A group came out in a roar of laughter, videoing and taking pictures of the experience, so everybody could relive it when they're old and bored. Trevor had been in the center, laughing his ass off. I don't know why I'm reliving this out on paper, maybe so my future self can be reminded to just give up on those jerks I meet. People don't seem to change, and I won't believe they can until I am proved otherwise. Maybe I'm just meant for a life of solititude? Hell, it sounds a lot better than what I went through tonight.

Until I get the urge to try again,

Luna Bové

Snarling at the hideous memory, I shoved the book back where it belonged and walked towards my shower. I couldn't go into work so sour, but maybe my younger self wasn't so stupid for writing that entry. Maybe she knew that she'd meet some jackass named Jordan, and that she shouldn't even think about it. Go teenage me!

When I arrived to work, I decided to go ahead and make sure the glasses were clean and that everything was ready to open, considering the fact that Jordan was nowhere to be found. Part of me was relieved, but most of me was confused. Every time I've come here, he was already doing his job. I guess there's a first for everything. Sean tapped a beat on the counter as I continued to clean.

"Where's Jordan?"

"Hell if I know," Sean responded calmly. "You all good, Luna? You seem down."

"I'm good, just kind of tired."

"Yeah, I'll believe that when I'm dead. What's on your mind?"

I sighed and forced a smile before responding, "I'm good. Promise. Just a little homesick, I suppose."

"Alright... Just holler if you need a break, or anything. See you later."

As the night moved on, I handled a good handful of customers by myself, making complicated drinks I had never even heard of. Jordan usually made these weird ass drinks, and I should probably thank him for that later. It's definitely an artform to make some of these. It still wasn't enough to make me not pissed at the fact that he was an hour and a half late. I finally heard him mumble a sorry as he got behind the counter, picking up some drinks and handing them to their designated customer.