trouble | i.g

seventeen - "steph"

Bella's POV

"So is that guy your bodyguard or something?"

I looked up from the change I was counting to find one of the bus boys, whose name was either Jim or Jerry, standing in front of me with a tray piled with dirty dishes balanced on his hip.

"I don't have a bodyguard." I replied, ladling the coins into the register.

Jim or Jerry nods his head towards the parking lot. "Then who's that guy that's been sitting in the car for a while watching you? Kinda scary looking- got some weird ass ginger hair. I was supposed to tell him he was loitering, but he told me to fuck off because he was checking up on you."

I slammed the register shut, causing all the change to rattle together as I peered out the front windows, immediately spotting Ian himself sitting complacently in his car, ratty sneakers kicked up on the dashboard. He calmly blew a stream of smoke out the window and grinned when he caught my wide eye.

"Oh hell," I said quickly, "Hey- I'm taking a break right now. Gotta talk to my bodyguard."

The bell on the front door chimed as I sped out of the building, struggling to untie my apron as I walked over. After Ian had inadvertently gotten me fired from my last job, he had vowed to find me a new one, saying a buddy of his owed him a couple of favors. So here I was on the second day as a waitress, already causing a scene.

"Bella." Ian greeted, "I must admire that impressive speed walk over here."

I paused beside his open door, my hands still working behind my back to untangle the impressive knot. Ian grabbed my waist calmly, spun me around, and began to untie the work apron. I felt his slender fingers brush against my lower back before the fabric fell free.

"There you go." Ian said, handing it to me. I immediately threw it into his face.

"God damn it, Ian." I fumed, "I was trying to make a grand gesture of throwing an apron at you, but the knot was too tight." I bent down and began to slide off my sneakers.

Ian sighed, "Oh come on, don't throw a shoe at-" I threw my shoe at him.

He caught it too easily, turning it around in his hands for a moment of examination. "What size is this? Jesus, you got small feet." He observed, before setting it down and scooping up the fallen apron as I moved for my other shoe. He stopped my movement halfway, looping the ties of the apron around my wrists before I could react and tightening it.

"Now can we all just calm down." He said. "And you can tell me why you're throwing things at me." I stared in shock at the ties that held my arms together and attempted to pull them apart. Standing with one shoe on in a parking lot, caught by my own apron, it was definitely an interesting sight to witness.

"I'm practicing my aim for archery." I snapped back, "Ian, you just tied my apron around my wrists. Who does that? Oh my god- untie this right now. I'm at work!"

Ian watched as I tried to undo the knot by using my teeth. "They won't fire you, remember, I know the guy that owns this place. Besides, it's kind of hot seeing you like that. Also, I don't want a black eye from your shoe."

"I'm vulnerable to attack like this."

"Then tell me why you're mad."

"Look, I can't even do the Macarena. How will I dance at weddings?"

"Bella!" Ian demanded, but he was laughing as I continued to struggle. I slid into the passengers side and sank down into the seat, casting a nervous glance towards the diner to make sure we didn't have a crowd of spectators watching from the booths.