My Waitress (NOT EDITED)

Chapter 17

Seeing my butler again last week made me feel relieved that I have another person I can fully trust, but I wanted to know what he thought I should finally know before the driver interrupted us with his uncomfortable staring. It must have to involve something about my family, and if that's not it I don't know what it is then. I've been hearing different opinions about my parents. Marceline and PB said they were amazing people who just want to laugh and have fun, but for other people, like Victoria.. they were terrible people who shouldn't be alive...

I don't want to think about that. I shouldn't think about that right now, because today, Nicole, is a day when you're suppose to have fun.

One of my most favorite holidays are here: Halloween. Where kids go out into the night dressed up as butterflies and bumblebees and say the usual trick or treat ~ to expect Twix and starburst, but end up getting spooked by teenagers and adults in a werewolf mask going 'boogawoogawoo'. I have no clue where I got that from.

But instead of going into various neighborhoods to obtain a sugar rush under the night sky, this year I'll be acquainted by my fellow friends to a Halloween party hosted by none other than Jace at his residence.

I can't remember any of the times I've been to a Halloween party before in New York, but I feel like I definitely have. Ethan would've dragged me to a home full of booze and the smell the drugs in the air with extremely loud music bursting through the speakers. I feel like there's going to be a similar atmosphere tonight.

Chloe gives me a shorter shift so that I can get ready, although the party doesn't start till after 9. I suppose it's fine, it gives me more time. And of course Malachi still has the time to come to the diner to see me.

"I always wanna see my favorite Milkshake," he says innocently, but even if my back's facing him I can hear that smirk forming on his face.

"Hold on, your Malachi Milkshake is coming in a minute." I say.

"I'm not talking about that milkshake."

My head turns to see him looking straight at me. "Then what are you—oh." Realizing what he means, I immediately turn red. "Pssh.. whatever." I mutter.

He chuckles as I place his milkshake in front of him with the straw already in. "Double chocolate-banana-strawberry-vanilla swirled with whip cream and a cherry on top?"

"That's me." He spins the milkshake with his straw and takes a long sip. He doesn't say anything after. Huh.

"Aren't you going to correct me and tell me the actual order of your milkshake?"

"No." He takes the cherry off the top and plops it in his mouth. "Because you got it right."

My eyebrows raise. "Really?!"

"Yup."

"Oh!" A smile makes its way across my face. I feel so accomplished for saying his milkshake in the right order. For months I've been saying the order out of sequence. Yes! I fist pump in my mind.

"Congratulations, my lady. You have leveled up to level 3," he announces in a low British accent. "The final level."

"Malachi, what are you—"

"The first level was making the milkshake. The second was what you just accomplished: knowing the order—actually it could be the other way around buuut now you're at the last level..." he reaches his hand out to me. "Pass me another straw." He gives me an intense serious look.

I snort. "I can't take you seriously with that British accent." I don't question him and hand him another straw. But I would like to know why he wants another straw.