philophobia | harry styles ✔️

f i v e

I wiped down the table that was now clad in water stains from the condensation of empty cups.

After putting the messy dishes into the gray bin, I threw the white cloth over my shoulder and headed back to the front counter to collect a customer's money.

"Hello," I smiled at them as they grinned in response and handed me their receipt. I typed in the amount printed on the bill and grabbed the twenty dollar bill the woman held out toward me. "Out of $20. And your change will be $14.69." I gathered her change and handed it to her.

She thanked me and I responded, "Have a great day, ma'am!"

"You do the same sweetie," She smiled as she placed a dollar bill into my tip jar.

I smirked and stared as she walked away to catch up with, presumably, her husband and child and she gripped both of their hands and walked in the middle of them. The husband leaned down and smiled at her before placing a kiss on her lips.

I can't wait to have that someday. . . Well, first I'd like my job back and then I'll worry about the relationship stuff.

The diner had died down a bit since I started my shift at 3 p.m.

I wished I was at the office with everyone because my FOMO was the worst it's ever been as I saw Cassey's Snapchat story showing she and the other girls at the office party that we had at the beginning of October every year.

Our office loves autumn and we always celebrate it with a party filled with pumpkin spice lattes, apple cider donuts, cider slushies, fall-themed cookies, etc.

Because I was on suspension, I wasn't considered an employee at the moment, meaning I was unable to attend the party. So here I was working for my former boss, Ralph, at Ralph's Diner. I worked here in high school my sophomore through senior year.

It wasn't the ideal job, but since I would have no income for the next five days I figured this would be one way to get some cash, especially since Quinn hit me with the money bomb yesterday, telling me I'd have to pay for my bridesmaid's dress.

It was now 10:41 p.m. and we closed at 11. I only had 19 more minutes; I could do it.

Suddenly, the bell rang signaling that a customer had walked through the door. I groaned internally but pushed a smile on my face as I lifted my head up from staring down at the counter. As soon as I saw the customer, I almost had a heart attack.

A lump formed in my throat when I saw his smile lighting up the entire room. My palms started to shake a bit as I reached up to smooth out my hair that had been swept up in a messy ponytail all day. I straightened out my shirt right as he sat down on a barstool right at the counter.

Clearing my throat I handed him a menu and spoke, "You got me suspended from my last job. Are you gonna be two for two?" I smirked.

Harry looked up and met my eyes.

Recognition washed over his face and he beamed at me, "No, just here to report for Ms. Deluca whether or not you're doing your job which," He paused, looking around the restaurant. "By the looks of it, you must be doing it poorly."

I feigned surprise at his joke. "We close at 11 and I've actually been doing pretty well today, thank you very much!" Sliding the tip jar over toward him I added, "I've gotten $35 in tips just during my eight-hour shift so far."

He pulled a five-dollar bill out of his back pocket and shoved it in the jar.

"$40 now. Good job, champ." He laughed.

I giggled at this and pulled out my pad of paper and pen. "So what brings you in? Are you in the mood for pancakes or deep-fried fish?"

He shook his head, "Just some coffee would be great, love,"

There he goes again; saying 'love' and making my heart completely melt at the sound of it.

I turned around to the machine that conveniently was right behind me as I asked, "Decaf or regular?"

"Regular with cream and sugar please." He responded.

I nodded my head in response. As I got his coffee prepared, Ralph walked out from the back and held out a key toward me.

"Hey Blair, would you mind locking up for me? Christina has the flu and Miranda needs me to come home and take care of her before Miranda's night shift," He said, referring to his youngest daughter, Christina and his wife, Miranda.

I smiled, putting the key in the front pocket of my jeans. "Of course, tell Christina I said hi and to feel better!" 

Ralph smiled and patted me on the shoulder before he hastily took off, throwing on a jacket to thwart off the not-so-chilly October air that Los Angeles had to offer.

I handed the coffee to Harry along with creamer and a packet of sugar.

"Equal?" He asked, referring to the packet. "Where's the real stuff?" He challenged with his brow raised.

I rolled my eyes, "What, you aren't satisfied with off-brand sugar?"

He shook his head, "This stuff tastes like crap, Blair,"

I'm not sure why, but him using my name as if we were close to one another although we have only known each other for technically two days made my heart flutter nonstop.

Why does he have this effect on me? I barely even know this guy. . .

Regardless, he ripped open the sugar packet and dumped the off-brand sugar into his cup of coffee and swirled it around using a spoon I'd given him. He added the creamer and once he was finally finished, he looked back up at me.

"I'm really sorry about what happened with your boss, I just thought th-"

"No," I interrupted him. "Trust me, it's fine. It's not a big deal. I should've been working on the spring issue for Kathy, but I enjoy sitting in on interviews and I haven't sat in on one for a while." I shrugged, trying to appear unaffected by what had happened.

"No," He persisted. "I'm really really sorry. Can I . . . can I make it up to you?"

He looked up at me through his eyelashes, coffee cup in hand, as his eyes pleaded for me to say yes.

But what did he mean by making it up to me?

Did he mean taking me out on a date? 

A kiss? 

Other sexual favors. .?

I glanced around the deserted restaurant, minus our head chef, Jimmy, and Sylvia Walters from down the block who typically stayed until 10:45-ish in order to get home to watch Golden Girls re-runs on time.

As if on cue, Sylvia slowly stood from her seat and grabbed her cane to steady herself. She waved a goodbye to me and walked out of the restaurant and to her car that was parked in the handicapped spot.

I waved in return before I started to wipe down the counters and answer Harry's proposal, "I mean, sure, but how?" I chuckled, trying desperately to ignore my heart pounding against my chest.

He shrugged and watched me wipe the counter top, "I would love to say, give you your job back, but since I don't really have the power to do that," He chewed on the inside of his cheek as if he was thinking. "There's a midnight showing of Casablanca tonight at a theater downtown if you'd be interested. . ."

"Sure!" I exclaimed, embarrassed by how quickly I had accepted the offer.

"Have you ever seen Casablanca?" He asked, finishing off the rest of his coffee.

"Never heard of it in my life," I admitted.

He chuckled and replied, "Me either."

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