Shape of You (+18)

Chapter One

▬▬▬▬Marley's POV▬▬▬▬

"Alright, we've got one shrimp and grits, a tender basket with fries, and two Sunday sliders," I grinned, placing the different plates in front of the people that ordered them. "Can I get you all anything else?"

"No, thank you," the mother of two declined politely as I wiped my hands against the black skinny jeans that hugged my body.

"Alrighty. You just let me know if you need me."

Leaving them, I did my rounds, checking in on other customers, as was my routine. I was in the middle of expounding on the different types of desserts we offered to an elderly couple when something clattered to the ground behind me.

"Shit," a low voice muttered.

The high-pitched sound of a chair scraping against the floor filled the air as I turned around in time to see a man stand up abruptly, a bright orange stain spreading on his white t-shirt, clinging to the muscle underneath. His jaw was firmly shut, his eyes focused on the squirming young girl seated across from him. Her head was down, causing her dirty blonde hair to spill over her face, shielding her blushing skin from his heated stare.

Grabbing the cloth towel secured in my apron, I rushed over to them.

"I'm sorry," the girl sheepishly apologized, her eyes downcast as I wiped up the spilled soda.

"It's okay," I assured her, smiling softly. "It'll only take me a second to clean up."

Turning to my right, I looked over at the man who was busy dabbing his shirt with a bundle of napkins. I'd seen him in here quite a bit, even served him a few dozen times. He was what we called a 'regular'. Nothing more than a few stolen glances had ever transpired between us, but I still recognized him. This was the first time I'd ever seen him with the girl, however.

"I can bring you a towel, if you'd like, sir."

Making eye contact with him, I smiled, which was a habit I made for whenever I interacted with a customer, but I'd be lying if I said his wholesome good looks didn't make the move more genuine. Returning the gesture, barely, he shook his head.

"No, no, that's okay. We were just about to leave, anyway..." he explained, his gaze tracing the curves of my figure, lingering on my chest, before returning to my face. I felt my face flush at the motion, until he spoke, and I realized he was just reading my nametag. "...Marley."

Nodding my head, I finished cleaning the spill while he answered his newly ringing phone.

"What?" he spoke sharply to whoever was on the other end of his call.

Not wanting eavesdrop, I bent down until I was eye level with the young girl. She couldn't be older than seven, I was guessing. Her blonde hair stopped just past her shoulders, and her wispy bangs rested on her forehead, drawing attention to the beautiful big brown eyes behind her circular rimmed glasses.

She was adorable personified.

"Let me guess," I mused, tilting my face up to seem deep in thought. "You were drinking...orange Fanta, weren't you?"

Dropping her mouth open in surprise, she exclaimed, "How'd you know?!"

"You looked like a Fanta kind of gal," I said, even though I knew because I literally just wiped it up. "Hang tight. I'll bring you another cup."

"Thank you."

"You are very welcome."

About two minutes later, I was walking back with a to-go cup of the fizzy drink, just in time to catch them before they left. The man was putting his arms through the sleeves of his leather winter coat when he spotted me.