the slums || jj maybank

eight. lifestyle

eight. lifestyle

 "People are so inconsiderate," Kie muttered, plating the food that the party of five had ordered about ten minutes prior. Kiara and Skye were placed on the closing shift, the restaurant closing at ten. This group, containing three men and two women, all in their late teens or early twenties, walked through the door of the Wreck at 9:50.

 Skye was standing next to the girl, waiting for her to finish with the five meals. Kie was loading them on to a tray as she completed them, Skye adjusting the dishes to ensure they fit on to the tray. "Does it even surprise you at this point?" she questioned from beside the girl, Kiara placing the final dish on the tray.

 Kie inhaled sharply, her voice holding pure frustration. "I just want to go home. But bitches will continue to be bitches." Skye gave a small laugh, picking up the tray between her two hands. As she approached the table, she balanced the tray on one arm. Skye grabbed the stand to support the tray from against the wall, pushing it open with a single hand. She then placed her oval, black tray down on the stand, and began to distribute the meals.

She placed the platter in front of the boy in the front corner of the table, the boy glancing up at her. He was seated next to another boy who was immersed in conversation with the female next to him. On the other side of the table, a female was speaking to the guy who had his arm slung around her shoulder.

 Following Skye dispersing the meals accordingly, the boy in the front left corner spoke up as Skye was closing the tray-stand. "'Scuse me?"

 Skye brought her attention to the boy with dusty-blonde hair and piercing brown eyes. She pulled the black tray under her left arm, glancing down at the boy awaiting his request. When he didn't speak, Skye decided to initiate the conversation. "What's up?"

"Would you mind leaving me your phone number?" he questioned, blinking his eyes up at her; his long eyelashes were the focal point of his face.

 A small smile was brought to Skye's lips. "Look, I'm sorry," she began, her tone sweet. "But I may just be a bit too young for you." The boy appeared to be of legal drinking age; while she barely recognized that legal mile-stone (it never stopped her before) it spoke to the large age gap between herself and the boy she was waiting on.

 He smiled slightly, his eyebrows coming together. "I'm sorry, how old do you think I am?" Confusion laced his voice.

 Skye shrugged. "Like, twenty, maybe?" At this, his face fell.

 "How old are you?" he questioned, glancing up at the girl. His look of confusion was beginning to turn into one of embarrassment.

 "Sixteen." She smiled, letting out an awkward laugh. At this point, the attention of the entire table was on the conversation between the two. While they had all been so engrossed by the chats they were involved in with another, their eyes could now only focus on the words of their friend with the young waitress.

 He paused for a moment, his hands finding the back of his neck. His eye contact was averted. "Well, uh, this is awkward." He gave the teenager who was barely allowed to drive a car a forced smile. "I'm like 23."

 The tension that had grown was released with his choice of words. Skye let out a small laugh. "Like?"

 "Uh, yeah, I'm sorry," the boy apologized. "I didn't realize you were so young." His words were genuine, embarrassment and guilt present on his face.

 Skye nodded, giving him a reassuring smile in an attempt to ease the man. "I get that a lot."

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