No Title

C. 2

"Adalaide!" Baxter shouted my name for the millionth time today due to me constantly getting lost in thought.

Baxter is the chef at the diner I work at, busting tables for little to nothing just to get by and pay my bills. I don't mind it; I have worked here for the last few months and it has been my easiest job since I began working. The diner stays mostly empty except for the few customers that are regulars here, having a diner so old it mostly holds older people and the few stragglers my age that come here for a new experience or the rare few that come in because they have childhood memories of this place. Today though, we had only our older customers and one young man who I assume is in his mid-twenties, he arrived a month ago and is here every day in the same booth, ordering the same untouched meal before leaving after a few hours. He hardly speaks other than to order and occasionally have the short and friendly conversation while I put his food down.

"Adalaide!" Baxter yells once more. I scurry to the counter and grab the tray of eggs, bacon, toast, and a bowl of mixed fruit to give to the young gentleman that never eats it.

As I walk to his table I can't help but to take in his beauty, his almost unnatural beauty. Each time I begin with his eyes, the strong and powerful blue-green that seems almost like it came from some fairytale. As I take in his face, I can't help but notice the sexy square jaw that aids in his power. The only thing that tends to throw me off is the slight coloration of rose on his cheeks and the cheeky smirk that he hands off as a smile each time we interact. His hair is the opposite of his entire set up. While he never fails to wear neatly groomed suits and ties, with his athletic body type that is perfectly complimented by his attire, his hair throws me off. He is so well dressed and well put together except for the not quite shaggy but short brunette hair with a part in the front with just a little of it falling over is forehead, giving him a dashing look in a demanding suit.

I place the man's plate down and engaged in the same slight conversations as always.
"How are you this morning?" I smile as I mainly focus on not dropping any of the plates. He responds the same he has the since he first came. "I'd say I'm pretty well now that I'm here."
I lightly chuckle and place the tray under my arm so I can pour the coffee. "You say that every morning, what's so special about this place?"

The man pauses, his smile slightly growing larger only adding to his natural charm and beauty, "More than you could ever know little one."

I laugh at his use of little one. "Little one? We look like we're about the same age." He returns my laugh with a wink, "Believe me, we are far from the same age." I felt there was no casual way of ending this conversation so I just smiled, leaving what he said to float in the air as I finished up and left him to his meal.

The rest of my workday went by its same slow and uneventful manner, leaving me to get further lost in thought and curiosity as I mindlessly clean up the emptying booths and count my tips. The young man had left only minutes ago and while I have caught him staring at me a few times I don't mind it simply because of the hefty tips he leaves. My paychecks aren't much, just enough to barely pay the bills I have and buy little food for my house but ever since he has been coming in and leaving tips every day that are almost equal to my paycheck for two weeks I now have money to buy things that I want and I have been indulging in my small pleasures as I have bought new clothes and shoes, even rented a movie.

While I cleaned up and mopped the diner I couldn't help but think about tonight and what I knew was coming. For the last two months I have been going to bed in my home and waking up in the middle of the woods on the outskirts of town. I have no clue of how I get there every night but no matter what I do I wake up there, I have tied myself to my bed and still somehow manage to find myself in the woods with the belt tight around my wrist looking as if it had been chewed off, or maybe clawed. I never wake up hurt, not even so much as a bruise is left on me when I awake, and somehow I know exactly where I am once I've awoken even though I have never been in those woods before.