So I wrote this short story...

Meant to be read while "Just One Look" by Doris Troy is playing in the background

"It's rude, you know."

"Sorry, ma'am?"

"Staring. It's rude. You were staring."

"Was I?" I asked, surprised at the apologetic edge to my voice. "I didn't really notice-"

"Well, you were.”

I blinked.

“And if it's all the same to you, I'd like to order, now."

There was a squeaky sound from the plastic "leather" upholstered to her booth as she sat back with her arms folded, one dark eyebrow raised at me. I don't usually take to rudeness like this when I'm on the job, but I liked it from her. The more she scowled at me, the bigger the stupid grin on my face grew. No reason or rhyme for it, but I liked the way she knew exactly what she wanted.

"Ma'am, I assure you that there could be no greater pleasure in my life than to serve you," I returned, laying the sarcasm on pretty thick. I held one hand out and made a low bow in her direction. “Now you just say the word as soon as you know what you want. Your wish is my command."

As I half-expected, she was not amused.

Her eyes squinted and some of her friends giggled. She shot some quick glances around the table. This girl must’ve had daggers in her eyes, because the giggling stopped. She caught the sarcasm. I was happy about that.

"I think I'll have a grilled cheese. I heard that it’s good here."
She folded her menu neatly onto the table and leaned forward with her chin up, waiting for me to write that down; like she could have been the director of a play, waiting for my next line.

"Oh..." I winced.

There was no immediate reaction from anyone in the booth. I waited. I wanted to see if she’d catch on.

"Is there a problem?" She asked, a little more annoyance in her voice than before. Her nostrils flared a little and both of her eye brows were up now. Her upper lip curled in a little at the end of the question. She really was gorgeous when she was angry, and the thought made me laugh. Nobody was asking for my manager yet, so I thought I'd keep teasing.

"Well,” I started to explain, leaning with one arm on the edge of the booth, now. “It's that you said 'I think...' just then." I paused to make some sort of scholarly, know-it-all sounding emphasis on the rest of my sentence. "Now there's nothing wrong with that, of course, I just thought you were a woman who knows what she wants.” I stared off wistfully at some imaginary scene in the distance. “I guess I was wrong..."

That one did it. She stood up slowly out of her booth, placing both hands on the edge of the speckle-patterned table. If looks could kill, I’d be pushing daisies.

"You don't know what kind of woman I am."

I winked at her. “I’ve got my theories.”

“Well, they would be wrong.”

“If that’s the case, then you should educate me on exactly what kind of woman you are sometime. Friday is perfect for me, I was thinking-”

“I wouldn’t give you the time of day if you tried to pay me.”

“Oh, I dunno about that. I’m a big spender; don’t let this faded apron and plastic nametag fool you.”

“Do you always torture your customers like this?”

“Just the beautiful ones.”

She wasn’t glaring at me anymore. In fact, she couldn’t make eye contact with me at all. The only thing she did was slowly sink back into the booth as I quietly chuckled. If I was seeing things right, she was blushing a little, too.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong but I do believe that you just smiled at me for the first time since you’ve walked into this place.”

Her smile grew a little against her will. She was still quiet.

“Tell you what, darlin’, I’ll get you that grilled cheese and a Cherry Coke on the house if you can promise me that you’ll let me hear that lovely voice of yours again.”

She nodded and laughed a little.

“Miss, laughing doesn’t quite count as talkin’, but that’ll do for now.” I cupped one of my hands around my mouth and shouted, “HEY, LOUIS! CAN I GET A GRILLED CHEESE AND A CHERRY COKE FOR THIS LOVELY YOUNG LADY? …PRONTO!”

There was the sound of a metal clank, and a giant turned around to face me.

“What the hell are you yelling for??” Louis, screamed at me from the grill as he slammed down his spatula. He was more of a house than a man under that white toque, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d actually be scared of the big lug. He gave me an exhausted, pleading look and rolled up his wrinkled sleeves a little. “Just take the order and write it down! We’ve got other costumers present, and you’re being rude.” The chef looked around at the others in the diner with regretful eyes. “I’m sorry folks; he’s…He’s new here. In fact, he’s newer than new! I don’t even know the guy or how he got hired here.” He turned to look at me and asked through gritted teeth, “Can I PLEASE see you in the back?”

“One second, let me just make sure these lovely ladies-”

“NOW!”

“Sure. And what’re you talking about Louis; you’ve known me for 4 ye-” I stared to say as I took off my apron and walked through the kitchen doors.

“I PROMISE THAT I AM NOT AFFILIATED WITH THIS HOOLIGAN!” Louis called back loud enough, making sure everyone could hear. He shot one last smile to the patrons who seemed to stop eating their food and stare in curiosity. Then he slapped me upside the head when he was sure we were out of view.

“What’s with the theatrics, Jack?” His arms flew out in front of him as he asked the question. Louis used a lot of hand motions when he was flustered. It made him look like a clothed grizzly bear, trying to swat away bumble bees. “You don’t shout orders at me to impress anyone, I’m the head chef! And what were you doing over at booth 7? It looked like you were harassing that poor girl and her friends!”

“Oh, c’mon. I was not harassing her. I was…”

“Yes? You were doing what?” He stared at me skeptically.

“Teasing. I was teasing her… A little. Definitely not harassing.”

Louis rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “For Pete’s sake, Jack…”

“Don’t start with me, Louis. Just look at her.”

I grabbed his face and pointed it in the direction of the smudged circular windows in the kitchen’s double doors.

“She is pretty…” He conceded.

“Pretty?” I asked, sincerely shocked and offended. “That’s a serious understatement. Are we even seeing the same girl? Look,” I pressed against the door with Louis and pointed to her booth. “When she laughs she gets this little crinkle between her eyes and her nose. You’ve got to hear her laugh, man. Oh, and is there a nicer word for ‘crinkle’? I feel like she deserves a nicer word for that…” I trailed off. “And her hair. You see how it’s kind of wavy at the ends, and how it’s not quite straight but not quite curly? God, I love that. Every girl should have hair like that.”

“Are you through, yet?”

“Give me a couple of hours.” I sighed.

“You might not have that long, Jack.” Louis turned from the window and poked me in the ribs with his spatula while he grinned. “Looks like she’s getting ready to leave with her friends.”

My eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. I forgot to get the rest of their orders…”

Louis patted me on the back and tried to comfort me. “Don’t sweat it, kid. You can call and apologize to her and her friends later tonight.”

“… I didn’t get her number either.” I groaned as I slapped my hand to my forehead.

Louis put both of his hands on his hips and leaned away from me in disbelief.

“What? Don’t look at me like that.”

“Please tell me you at least know the girl’s name.”

I burst through the double doors and banged my leg against a tray full of used coffee mugs and dirty dishes. I remembered that I wasn’t wearing my apron anymore when spots of lukewarm coffee and tea splashed up against my pants and I stumbled around to recover my footing. I took off again between the rows of booths and tables, trying to close the distance. Something hot spattered onto my shirt as I bumped into somebody’s plate that they were holding out, probably insisting that I took the wrong order. Maybe it was mashed potatoes, maybe it was pie. I didn’t care. I tripped over my shoelace in a last bound for the door and grabbed for the handle before it closed completely. There was an audible gasp and this perfect girl looked back to see me sprawled out across the floor, covered in food and grinning up at her.

“Hi.” I said, breathless.

“Oh my God, are you okay?”

“Best I’ve felt in years.” I assured her, panting and pulling myself back to my feet. I brushed off my button up a shirt a little and smirked. “First secret to living a longer, healthier life: wearing your food instead of eating it.” I made my hands move through the air, showcasing myself like the prize of a game show. “Does wonders.”

“Is that so?” She asked, putting her hand to her chin, faking seriousness and trying not to smile.

“At least, I think that’s what I heard somewhere…” I said scratching my head.

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you.” I said, trying to sound debonair and failing.

“You don’t even know me,” She began to protest.

I held out my hand, interrupting her. “The name’s Jack.” I told her.

She looked like she made up her mind about something and placed her hand in mine. It was soft.

“I’m Emma.”

We shook hands.

“Pleased to know you, Emma.”