The truth is, I don't remember how it started. I don't remember when was the first time I managed to get close to him, I just remember that one day I searched where he was staying and I was lucky to find it. That was almost three months ago.
Now, I'm in complete trouble.
-
June 22, the first day.
Cleaning tables is not my passion, okay? But it helps to pay the rent. No one likes to live on the streets, yeah? I've been there. Well, kinda. Long story short, I was two weeks late and the landlord kicked me out. It was eight in the morning so I had time to get my things and figure something out. I crashed in my friend's couch for two days until I got this job. It sucks.
I hate it. I hate interacting with people the whole day.
I hate to smile the whole time, it hurts my cheeks.
"Dakota! I need you back here. Now!" I hear my boss yelling from the kitchen. Fucker.
"Yeah?" I rush myself to the back, accommodating my apron.
"Is it true that you fucked up three and give them the order of eight?" He says, he is talking about the tables.
"Yeah. They ordered almost the same thing, one with onions and one without." I say, keeping my face serious. "Julio didn't tell me which one was it, so its no only my fault."
"Julio?" My boss calls for him and he hides his face. "Okay, you're safe for now. Go offer them a free drink on the house."
"Okay, Patrick." I say, nodding my head and heading to their tables.
One hour later of torture-smiling and almost-burnings, I get off my shift. I take off my apron and unbutton the first two buttons of my shirt and sit on the sidewalk behind the restaurant. What a fucking day. I take off my pack of cigarettes, that I know I should quit but I haven't, yet, and take out a smoke.
After two sips I throw it out, just in time I hear those familiar footsteps.
"What a shift, huh?" I hear his voice, Don.
"I'm quitting next week, I swear." I say, leaving a sigh out.
"Smoking or this job?" He sits next to me. I don't know how he does it, but he always smells nice. Like wood, I don't know how to describe it.
"Both." I say, turning to look at him.
"You should stay around here, I could use the company for a bit longer." He says, taking something out of a plastic bag. He hands me a beer, I frown but I take it. "Just pretend we bought these and its all good."
"Burglar." I say in a chuckle.
We stay in silence, listening to the eventual car passing by in the street that rounds the building. I really needed a drink, its getting something usual. I get off work, I go to my empty apartment that only has a fridge and a mattress, and drink cheap wine. This is the life I was seeking when I told my mom I was leaving home.
"What are you doing tonight?" He asks out of nowhere.
"Uh, nothing I guess." I place the almost empty bottle in the ground.
"Wanna go to a concert with me? My mom won some tickets and... She's not going, so." He says, not interested for even a bit.
"Sure, free concert." I smile. "Who's playing?"
"Some dude called Harry Styles. Know him?" He says, as if he was no one.
"Of course, he's like really famous." I chuckle, looking at him like if he was an alien. "Haven't listened to his new music though."
YOU ARE READING
Script (Imagines)
RandomA compilation of various short stories. All rights reserved.
