I decide to wash my hands meanwhile and slide down the high chair. I'm halfway to the washroom when I hear a waiter rushing in my direction to serve an impatient family in front and I move to give him room when all of a sudden my knee sends a current of pain up my femur and I jolt down to clutch it, forgetting the speeding waiter behind me for a fraction of a second. He almost bangs into me and I feel relieved that he didn't collide with my ass for another fraction and then stare in utter utter horror as a glass of pomegranate Sangria somersaults from the tray and in the air and crushes into a million pieces on touching the ground ever so delicately before, before spilling its entire contents on the white t-shirt of a young boy.
shit. Shit. SHIT!
Amidst all the chaos of the breaking glass, spilling of the drink, the managers "I will kill that useless waiter today" look, my mom getting off the phone and chair, I watch the boys' t-shirt getting soaked with the burgundy liquid and pieces of apple simultaneously sticking to his firm stomach and showing the outline of his naval. I look up and regard his face that holds a scorching glare as he drives his hand through his slightly gelled soft hair. Before I can contemplate for whom it was meant for I let out a petrified gasp and scoot to the wash basin excusing myself.
I switch on the tap and let out a long and loud breath of partial relief I wasn't aware I was holding and wash my hands. I look at myself in the mirror and see a slightly scared and extremely embarrassed girl starring back. I shake it off and smile. Better. I turn around to go and come face to face with the boy whose t-shirt was soaking burgundy instead.
Our eyes lock and I look right into his brown eyes which I find staring into my own eyes of the exact same colour. Lowering my gaze I note the light wheatish and slightly tanned skin of his perfectly sculptured kinda triangular face and long arms. His 'was a white t shirt' is in a disgusting condition and I look up immediately. He gives me an "I am so frustrated at this clumsy girl" look and clenches his sharp jaw.
What the fuck! I think to myself, the nerve of him. But I remember my manners and in contrast apologise for the mis-happenings and enquire if something can be done to help it. Damn I think I said too much.
"If you were a boy I would have asked you to take off your t shirt for spoiling mine." He retorts in his still cracking voice due to adolescence. Ew. Ew. Ew...
Okay now I'm fuming. To hell with my manners my inner goddess gets off her lounging chair and screams..
"If this was not a restaurant I would had slapped you across your arrogant face for saying that." You absolute dick. I spit with anger and rage and stalk off before he can reply, leaving him to grunt to himself and squeezing the counter stone below the basin probably attempting to break it. Keep trying and failing.
I try to compose my red face to normal while walking towards my waiting mom.
"What happened Alia?" she questions before I can even get on the stool. Do all mothers have zero patience at times or is it only my mother who is special? Taking long deep breaths and releasing my clenched jaw, I give her some answer.
"I hurt my knee while getting dressed and it just started paining out of the blue when a waiter was nearly running into me and I stopped. You watched the rest, I recite like an unmemorised poetry because I'm distracted spying on the attitude freak boy's table to see if he comes.
In about ten seconds mom studies me, realises I'm distracted and staring ( she hates it when I stare. And I stare quite a bit. NOT CREEPILY) and follows the path of my stare. I see it and look away immediately rushing out, "Can we leave if you have paid? I believe I over ate, I want to go home."
She isn't satisfied but agrees anyway,"We can go, I have finished paying. But before that are you sure we don't have to pay for the broken glass or that you must apologise to that boy?
I get defensive and hastily say no to her. It wasn't my fault after all. My inner goddess who doesn't agree slides down her spectacles to the tip of her nose and questions me the same question. Bitch! Go mind your business.
I fret and twitch and gripe inwardly and we take leave from the not so great girl date.
jfciyschgcischxaxgakxgauxgha. aghhhh
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YOU ARE READING
Finding Him and Me
Teen Fiction"If you were a boy, I'd ask you to take off your t-shirt for spoiling mine." He retorts "If this wasn't a restaurant I'd slap you across your arrogant face". I spit with anger. Alia plays the role of Cinderella in her Ballet Academy. One fine night...
