all that glitters » david dobrik au

forty

"Thank fuck you're here," I smiled as I saw Todd walking in the pizzeria door in his plain black shirt and red Plato hat. Todd had recently decided he needed a job, too, and after some minor begging on my part, I convinced him to work with me at Pizzeria Plato. I needed friends for the many, many group bonding outings that the managers liked to have on Sundays, when we were closed. Carolina was nice and friendly, but she had friends. I didn't. "They have sent their pizza back three times. And they took pictures of me working. How bored could they be with their own dull lives?"

"Could you elaborate on who they is? I'm confused," Todd replied while washing his hands like the good restaurant employee he was.

"Fuckin' Tweedledum and Tweedledumber," I gestured with my head towards a table in the back where none other than Kristen McAtee and Liza Koshy sat, sneering at us. "First, their pizza was too saucy, then it was too dry, and now I was trying to kill Liza by putting onions on her pizza. They asked for onions, Todd! They asked for fucking onions. Anyway, when the pizza comes back out, I'm gonna need you to deliver it. Next time someone talks shit, I'm beating a bitch's ass, and I don't want to get fired."

"You need to see a therapist about your anger issues," Todd laughed, flinging his damp hands towards me and giggling like a four year old as little droplets of water splattered my face and clothes. I glared at him until he mumbled, "Sorry."

"Lisa, your pizza," one of the cooks, Jerry, slid the pizza back over. I was sure he just peeled off the onions and put some more cheese on it, but I didn't really care. It wouldn't be my  fault if Liza died.

"Thanks, Tom," I smiled, grabbing the tray from him and shoving it in Todd's hands. "Go!"

Todd delivered the pizza, this time with no complaints. It seemed they only wanted to make my life miserable, not poor innocent Todd's. When Todd was back (and he took the order of the newest customer), he asked, "When do I get a nickname?"

"Huh?" I frowned as I scrubbed the counter with a wet rag.

"Lisa and Tom?" Todd frowned. "I feel left out."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "They just happen. Yours will probably be Prince or something."

"Why Prince?" Todd frowned, clearly confused.

"Todd, toad, prince," I nodded, like my explanation made it more obvious. "Or Prince Eric. Because of your middle name. I don't know; that's just my guess."

"I like it!" Ben yelled from the kitchen. We called him Jerry, which made for a very confusing but fun system. "Better than Jerry."

"Hey!" the real Jerry frowned. "Ain't nothin' wrong with the name Jerry, man."

They continued to bicker for the next ten minutes before the bell above the door jingled, and in waltzed David, a cheesy smile on his face.

"Hello, my beloved," David grinned, pressing his hands against the counter. "Can I have two chicken caesar salads and two drinks and my beautiful girlfriend for a dinner, please?"

"Todd, put it in," I instructed, watching him carefully to make sure he placed the order correctly. The pizzas were easy to punch in, but for some reason, the salad screen never cooperated. "Is it okay if I take a break?"

Todd had been working for three days, but I knew I wasn't ready to work alone on my third day. Todd was a lot more confident than me, but still.

"Eh, I think I've got it," Todd shrugged casually, passing me two drink cups. "Have fun, weirdos."

"If you need help, ask Jerry," I said, then added with a laugh, "He's kind of a dick, but he'll help!"

"Hey!" both real Jerry and nickname Jerry exclaimed from the kitchen, staring up at me like I was crazy.

"I'll let you guys fight over that one," I smirked triumphantly, dropping my hat into one of the spaces under the counter and then following David out to the restaurant. We sat a respectable distance from Liza and Kristen, but still close enough so they could see us. I wanted them to see us. "Hi."

"Hi," David chuckled. "I see your friends are here."

"Not my friends," I sighed, picking at my nails while we waited for our salads. "You're the one that fucked her."

"Like, almost two years ago," David laughed. "Can she get over it?"

"I think she was just fine under it," I sarcastically commented, smiling at Todd when he set the bowls down in front of us. "Thank you, Toddy."

"Don't make jokes like that," David told me once Todd left to go help another customer. I could tell he was trying to hold back his smile beneath his stupid, stern expression. "Eat your salad, with dressing. And chicken. And croutons. And cheese. Healthy toppings!"

"A caesar salad is, like, the least healthy salad you can get," I replied, shoving it around with my fork a bit to find the least drenched bite.

"Please eat it," David frowned, clearly upset with me. I stabbed my fork into a large bite and shoved it in my mouth, just to prove a point. I wasn't going to eat the whole salad; after my binge of Doritos and cinnamon roll balls, I was pretty much right back where I started (at least I felt that way). Eating a salad with a creamy dressing and literal chunks of bread in it would not help me fit into my dress. "What if I told your grandparents?"

"Then you'd be a douche, and I'd never talk to you again," I straight forwardly replied. I continued picking at my salad and not looking at David. "I don't get why it bothers you so much. I'm on a diet. Not dying or on crack."

"I talked to Giselle," David told me, and I immediately dropped my fork, staring at him with furrowed eyebrows. "She told me you were hospitalized for three weeks in the summer after ninth grade because you would black out every time you tried to stand up and you couldn't get warm without sitting in a boiling hot bathtub. She told me that even then, you denied having an eating disorder. Even when your hands were purple, you denied it."

"You're a dick for even bringing that up, and an even bigger dick for going behind my back and talking to my friends about me," I snapped, sliding the bowl away from me. "It's seriously none of your fucking business what I do and don't do. I am not anorexic, I do not have a problem, and you don't get to create one for me and worry my best friends about it!"

"Can you look me in the eye and say it again?" it was a soft tone, not accusatory or mean, but something about his aloofness and his inability to understand that I didn't want to talk about it twenty feet away from my gossiping ex-bestfriends made me angry.

"No, but I can say fuck you!" I gave him the most annoyed smile I could muster. "Now I'm going to kiss you when I get up so they can't say shit about me, but trust me when I say it means nothing."

I stood, taking my salad bowl and my cup with me so that Todd and I didn't have to go back to clean it up later. I leaned down and placed a quick kiss to his lips, pulling back before he could even try to kiss me back.

"I love you!" he called over his shoulder to me, knowing I'd have to say it back while Liza and Kristen were watching my every move.

"I love you, too."

I made my way back to the counter, dumping my salad in the trashcan and putting my dirty dish in one of the bus containers.

"Aren't our breaks supposed to be thirty minutes?" Todd asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Yours was ten. Hey... are you okay?"

He noticed my shaking hands and my controlled breathing.

"I'm fine," I replied with a small smile. "Your friend's a douche. If he comes up here before he leaves, tell me so I can hide in the back."

"I'll kick his ass," Tom yelled from the back, and I rolled my eyes.

"Back off, Tom. Nobody kicks his ass but me."

congrats to my queen olivia brower (aka mona); she is the latest sports illustrated swimsuit rookie model!!! a booked and busy queen who i stan

xoxo abby