Even Heroes Have Scars

[69] I'd Do Anything For You

Ansley's P.O.V.

As I bussed a table after one of the regular customers left, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I now had a managerial job at the Meredith's diner, meaning I was in charge when Meredith wasn't there, which was ninety-nine percent of the time. Me being a manager meant that nobody could fuss at me if I checked my phone, I pulled it out when I sent the bucket of utensils on the counter. It was a text from my girlfriend. Wow, it was weird to think of her as my girlfriend. I still hadn't gotten used to it.

It had been a week and a half since Demi and I started dating. So far, the only people who knew was my brother and a couple of Demi's closest friends. Even her parents didn't know yet. Aside from that time with Jacob at that restaurant, she and I hadn't even gone out in public. Anyway, this secrecy meant that nobody at the diner even knew. Cody and Mark had been on a trip to L.A. for a week. Literally, the day I went back to work, they left to go to L.A., since we couldn't both miss work at the same time. The two of them were looking at some small wedding venues in L.A. all week, and they got home last night, meaning Cody would be walking through the door any minute now, jet lagged from the three hour flight home.

Demi: Good morning baby. I hope your day is going well. I just wanted you to know that I miss you and I can't wait to see you

Me: good morning. I can't wait to see you either. when will that be?

Demi: Half an hour 😂 Is that okay?

Me: absolutely. I'm getting butterflies just thinking about seeing you

Yes, I felt butterflies, and I was sure some of them were about getting to see her, but most of them were about me having to tell everyone before she got here, on top of hoping there weren't any customers in the diner that would recognize her. So I shoved my phone into my pocket, set the bucket of used utensils beside the sink, and whispered through the window to Britney, who still somehow worked at this diner.

"Is there anything I can do to help speed this up?" This was the kindest I could possibly sound when speaking to this bitch.

She flipped a few pancakes at the stove, then turned around to face me, spatula in hand. "You could shut the fuck up." She swiveled again, placed the pancakes on a plate, and turned back to me, approaching the oven to check on the biscuits. "Why the rush, anyway? You got a hot date or something?"

"Something like that," I mumbled over the hum of the oven, which she opened to peek at her biscuits.

She scoffed. Or laughed. It sounded like an evil version of both. "Well, I'm sure she's gonna be the only hot one on this date of yours."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not exactly a date, but trust me, she's very hot. And speaking of hot, I can feel the heat from those biscuits. You sure they're not ready?"

"You wanna come cook all this shit for ungrateful ass customers? Be my guest," she grumbled, slamming the over door shut and retreating back to the stove to take care of the eggs and bacon.

I knew I could write Bitchney up for her attitude. Hell, as a manager, I could have her whole fucking job. But honestly, this was just how we were. We accepted each other for who we were, but that would never stop the taunting we spat at each other.

I sighed. "Just try to work a little faster. You-know-who is coming here, and we don't need a spectacle by having all these customers still here when she gets here."

She laughed again. "Then maybe she should stay the fuck home. Not my business to please her."

"I'll give you all of my tips for the day," I encouraged.