He was here again.
I was only tending to a customer, mumbling my apologies for mistaking their order when the door slammed open. The gust of wind from the outside blew some napkins astray and the bell, however, rang lightly behind him as he treaded to a booth - the very same booth he sat at nights ago. He roughly sat down and remained still. He probably thought he was hiding his struggling breaths well, but his rapidly rising shoulders said otherwise.
The woman I was serving sent me back to reality with a single awkward cough. I nodded my head, apologizing once more before I went to the kitchen with their correct order on the notepad in my hand. I came back out and grabbed a menu for him, trying to get the circulation going in my fingers.
He stared blankly at the empty booth in front of him while my footsteps echoed the tap of his jittery fingers on the table.
"Sorry for the wait," I mechanically said. "What can I get you to drink?" I slid the menu under his long sleek fingers just as he looked right at me. Closely, I saw his skin was glistening with sweat and his hair was an unruly slicked mess. His eyes were sunken, the blush in his cheeks went pale, and his lips were a contrast of a deep red. He looked beat.
"Long time no see," he teased with a hoarse voice. I slowly nodded, hoping I didn't seem so eager.
All those nights I expected him to come into the diner, only to be let down, did not prepare me for this surprise. I couldn't help but ask him. It was only small talk after all.
"How have you been?" He laughed coldly, adjusting his sitting position. He pulled his lips together and puffed a hot breath directly at my face.
"Peachy," he smirked, reminding me of our earlier conversation. Was I supposed to laugh? To smile? But it all seemed too disturbing to me, for him to joke like this when all the color was drained from his face. In an instant his smirk fell and his lips became taut like he was trying to hold back something he really wanted to say. I watched as his mouth opened as his body twisted and turned.
Then after a ding of a bell, he shut it closed. His shoulders sank and he angrily flipped the menu open. I stood there for a moment, hoping he'd muster up the courage to say again, uninterrupted.
"You should get that." His eyes roamed the page but I knew he barely read it all. He looked up, raised an eyebrow, and I huffed in defeat.
I walked to the kitchen where my uncle paid more attention to the spices he was adding to a pot than the concern in my eyes. I grabbed a cup and poured a fresh brew into it. I took the correct plate in one hand and the coffee in the other. I set the coffee at his booth first, not bothering to ask him if he wanted cream or sugar because I already knew the answer.
The woman was finally happy with her order when I sat her plate down and her husband looked relieved. All I hoped was that they gave me a tip.
I made my way to him, clicking my pen and getting my notepad ready. Deep down, I hoped he would order something and stay a bit longer. When he saw me, I saw a sliver of a smile surface on his face and he looked at me in a quiet wonder.
"What?" I became tentative, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
"I didn't order a coffee." His response was cocky and I raised my eyebrows, realizing I grabbed the cup on instinct.
"Oh." It was all I could say, I couldn't explain my actions to him without turning pink. He laughed, sort of. It was just a deep breath out, but it was something. "Do you want something to eat?" Without hesitation, he gave a quick answer.
