Dylan
"Amanda, I'm going for a break...it's almost four," I ask as I lightly brush the palm of my hand against her shoulder.
She was focused on something else but managed to turn around with her eyes fixed on mine like that of an eagle.
"We don't do that...we don't do that over here mate," she replied with an acrimonious tone; and quickly removed my hand from her shoulder.
Did I mention that she had a thick cockney British accent, but still managed to make the words that came out of her mouth more intimidating than most British people I've heard? Well yeah, she did. Although sometimes I think that she just does it for the job.
"My bad...so is that an OK?" I try my best to sound mannerly.
"Nobody cares. Go and leave however you want, you'll be gone soon anyways. Does that answer the question?"
"I never asked a question...but anyways, I'll take that as a yes" I quickly wind up as soon as I see an exasperated look on her face. I leave before she says another word...or worse, stop me from taking my break.
I walk into the locker room and remove my apron. I place it behind a small wooden chair and sit.
Ah, it's a good feeling to have my ass on a chair after almost four hours of standing. I pull forward both my legs and collapse on the chair. I feel relaxed. But I only got ten minutes...
I pull up my phone and quickly skim through the latest updates on social media.
Yes, I'm a social media person, definitely not Gossip girl by the way...I have a passion for modelling; had it since I was at least twelve years old. My photos are perfected to the extent that my followers on Instagram think I'm some professional or something...I'm more of an 'or something'.
My latest post is a vineyard shoot. I was dressed in a casual blue and well-fitted suit; exactly the type of outfit for a formal event. But this was not one of those events. Just a photo-shoot...
A notification pops up on my phone. It's a comment from Dalia.
'Try smiling!'
Dalia is my sister...and my photographer. She basically takes all my photos. I usually prefer having a shoot per week but she can be too persuasive sometimes. She always insists on telling me that I am 'an eye for the camera'.
I reply back to her comment and add a smiley emoji to it...
'Teach me'.
As I continue skimming through the latest post notifications, I hear footsteps from the other side of the door.
Someone's coming.
Can I at least get some privacy during my break? Of course not! There's always a certain someone who barges in to tell me something's up.
Darn.
The locker room door opens. It's Jamie.
Phew.
I silently hoped it wasn't Amanda or worse because that would only mean bad news for me.
It's only Jamie...he cannot possibly have anything serious to say to me.
"Dude, there's some girl named Maggie wanting to speak to you," he says casually with one hand still holding the door knob.
I'm astonished. Who's Maggie?
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YOU ARE READING
"Why Is It There?"
Romance"It was noon...she was having a rough day. As soon as a hand grabs her shoulder, she quickly throws in a punch. There goes her Latte...all over him! She notices the uniform and her senses kick in. She looks up to apologize but he was simply involved...