unlike her // h.s [Completed]

II

E.

"Slow day today, Em. You can go home." Marge says sweetly, rubbing my arm. I smile slightly and pull her into a side hug. I pull away and notice a loose strand of gray hair has fallen from her bun. I tuck it behind her ear.

"I think I'll stay here and help you out if you need it," I sigh happily, looking around the small diner. The room is filled with elderly couples and it couldn't get any cuter.

"You're too sweet." Marge laughs and waddles away back to behind the counter. I pull out a towel from my apron pocket and start to wipe down tables. Parents that were in earlier had a child that spilled salt all over the table. First, I hate salt because even after cleaning it up, you still find salt in random places. Second, I hate kids. People say 'hate is a strong word'. But I have a strong hatred for kids.

I clean it up along with a few other tables. I collect some tips from customers and compile a tray with dirty plates and other dishes and head to the kitchen. I start washing up dishes along with towels.

I pull out my earbuds and put them in my ears. My feet twirl around the kitchen as I listen to some calming- yet pumped music. I avoid bumping into the Cook, Drew, whom I've become close to since working here. His chuckle flows through my music and I stop, grinning. I pull out one earbud and turn to him.

His black floppy hair hides underneath a hair net. He's wiping off the stove from a mess he had made earlier while stirring a pot of tomato soup. "Whatcha doing?" He laughs, turning to me. He leans his back against the stove. The corner of my lips twitches into a smile.

I shrug. "The usual."

He wags his finger in the air and grins slightly. "Are you listening to The Chainsmokers again?" He prods and continues to poke me in the stomach. I swat his hands away.

"That's for me to know and for you," I pause. "to find out." I wriggle one eyebrow at him which causes him to cackle. Out of nowhere, the noise of girls squealing breaks through the diner. I look at Drew questionably. He shrugs his shoulders as if he's saying 'I don't know' and continues to clean the stove like there's nothing going on.

I hear Marge yell something but I can't quite make it out. The diner door closes and the sounds of shrill girl screams are suddenly drowned out by the glass.

I continue to work in the kitchen. Sometimes girls scream when there are bees. We have a lot of flowers outside of the diner where the outdoor seating is- and those little suckers are attracted to them.

"Em. Emery!" Marge pokes her head through the door that leads to the kitchen. I set a plate down in the sink and turn to her, wiping my wet hands on my apron.

I plant a smile on my face. "Yes?"

"We have a customer at table three. Could you please take his order?" She asks, her smile causing little crinkles to appear at the corner of her eyes.

"Of course, M," I reply with a nod. "Table three?"

"Mhm." She pats my arm as I slide past her to head to table three. I hear her say to Drew, "Now how did you make that mess?"

I laugh and shake my head and start to walk to table three. But, before I could get there, I inspect who is sitting there. He's not old. No, in fact, he looks like he's in his early twenties at the most. His face is smooth with a tiny stubble that you can barely see. Lake-green eyes ponder and spark with ember as he looks from the window and down to the table. I follow what he'd been looking at.

A swarm of girls is being pushed back by the local security department. My brows scrunch up in question but I relax my face after a moment.

I return my attention back to the unknown gentleman. His dark brown hair flops in front of his face in which he pushes back. For what seemed like an eternity, I stood there. My hands stiffly to my sides as I looked at him.

But, I quickly snapped out of it and made my way to the table. He hadn't seemed to notice my arrival as he drew circles on the table with his calloused finger. I watch the repetitive motion for a few seconds before speaking up. "Excuse me, sir." I interrupt his daydream. His head snaps up and he blinks a few times. His eyes lock onto mine and it's like I was staring into what could be imagined heaven looks like.

"Uh, sorry." He murmurs and then laughs. An accent is apparent in his voice.

I smile at his laugh. His laugh is natural, like the wind through rain or oxygen in the atmosphere. "It's okay-" I pause and take another look at his face. He looks familiar but I just can't put my finger on it. "Wait, do I know you?" I ask.

His lips pucker but then he smiles widely. He speaks up but I cut him off with the wave of my hand. "Nah, nevermind. My mind is playing tricks on me. Would you like to order, or do you need more time?"

He looks at me in surprise and I worry that I was too rude by cutting him off. But his look does not contain anger. It's filled with genuine curiosity. I feel uncomfortable under his stare. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like- I don't know- it just makes me blush.

He starts to sputter with random 'Uh's and 'Yeah's before catching his breath. He chuckles and shakes his head at himself once more. "Iced latte with a blueberry muffin, please."

"Sure thing, I'll be back in a moment," I say politely, smile again, and head to the kitchen to tell Drew the order.

I get a headache from the overload of questions that fill my thoughts.

Who is this boy? Why was he staring at me like that?

Tons more flow through but I can't keep up with the flurry of my wondering judgements.