Love Potion // Harry Styles

1: I Hate My Job And It's Not Because Of My Period

[ a / n ; just a small note, harry won't show up until chapter four. :) ]

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WHEN TOBY stomped in the kitchen with bruises all over his face, I knew something was wrong (well, it doesn't really take a genius to figure that one out).

"Oi, Toby!" I called, rushing over to him. "What happened? Allen and the bunch messed with you again?"

Allen Garrett was our colleague. He was a dickhead, and I can't comprehend as to why someone would marry him. Yes, he was married at thirty two but he's still working as a waiter and bullying twenty year olds. He should be embarrased.

Toby ran a hand through his already tousled hair, huffing. "The bruises are nothing compared to what I gave to that bastard."

I sighed. Toby was often like this; fighting with Allen, bragging about 'what he gave' after. The main reason why Allen hated us was that Toby was gay, and I was... well, ugly.

"What's the reason now, Parker?" I asked impatiently. He always had a reason for fighting Allen. Last time, his reason was so pathetic; because he had poured blonde hair dye in his shampoo.

Blonde looked better on Toby than brown ever did.

"He called you ugly and stupid." He mumbled.

A smile of appreciation reaches my lips, but I shake my head softly. "You don't have to do that, Tobes, it's true."

Before Toby can reply, Allen shouts from behind me, "Ooh! The slag admitted it!"

Toby clenches his fists and begins to thunder over Allen, but I stop him before he can reach him. "He's not worth it, Tobe!" I hiss, sending Allen a dirty glare before pushing Toby out the kitchen.

Once Allen was out of earshot, I begin to talk. "You know how much I hate fighting." I whisper, crossing my arms. Toby gapes at me.

"Addie, do you even hear yourself? He called you ugly and stupid, and you just confirm that? You're hallucinating, babe." I narrow my eyes, pinching him.

"Toby, I've heard that insult a billion of times. You know Allen has a vocabulary as big as his dick. And you know how small that is."

He manages to chuckle. "Okay, Addie."

I slap his arm. "Now go clean yourself up, goofus." He salutes me, turning around and heading to the toilets. I walk back to the kitchen, ignoring Allen and his friends' jokes about my ratty appearance.

"Hey, Adelaide!" I flinch as one of Allen's bastard friends, Gary, call me. "Do you call that a face? Babe, we call that shit." Allen and his friends roar with laughter.

"Hey, Gary!" They stop laughing. "You call that a dick? Babe, we call that meatloaf."

Their group is silenced as I strut out of the kitchen.

Before I can reach an elderly couple asking for a waitress, I hear say from the kitchen, "Dude, let me see your meatloaf!"

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I want to quit.

I wanna quit right now.

I have millions of reasons, but two if them are:

1. Allen Garrett and his stupid group of worthless, good-for-nothing, hoody ass, annoying as fuck of fuckers,

2. And the endless number of rude customers.

I've encountered a total number of sixteen Hitler wannabes today, and thank God closing time was an hour away, because I don't even know how to handle these ungrateful bastards anymore.