The one good thing about the job was there were days when I barely had a moment to myself.
"Piper, Piper!" Another waitress, Lori, broke into my thoughts. Not very interesting ones. Having managed to avoid Andrew and Marie in my head for all of ten minutes, I'd been thinking about a pair of shoes I'd seen in a shop window the day before and wondering whether they'd be suitable for work.
"Yeah?" One didn't have to be as polite with coworkers as with customers. Of course, we were within hearing distance of said customers, but the closer the clock drew me to home-time the less I cared. My desire to fake happiness had all but melted.
"There's someone over there asking for you." She thumbed over her shoulder and my own slumped.
"God, it's not Andrew is it?" He'd occupied my mind for enough time; I didn't want him parking his mangy ass in my workplace too, even if technically, as a member of the public, he had every right to do so.
Lori shook her head. Most of my co-workers knew Andrew as he'd been in here a number of times, or met me from work. "Much better looking than Andrew. Irish accent. Sat at one of my tables but insisted on being served by you." Her lips curved into a conspiratorial smile. "I don't know where you find them, Piper," she added, her voice dropping as low as it could while still being heard above the lunchtime hubbub, "but you have a talent for finding handsome guys."
I craned my neck. "Irish, you said?"
"Yeah. Over by the window. Look." She pointed, and just at that moment, as if he'd heard us speaking from across the room, he looked up. Chin still lowered, but looking up through his lashes, the side of his mouth raised ever so slightly, as if something tickled him.
"You know him?"
Mute, I nodded.
"Well of course. He wouldn't have asked for you otherwise. Unless he's some kind of stalker, although if you want my opinion, if I was being stalked by someone who looked like that, I wouldn't be complaining," she said almost to herself as she headed in the other direction. Always more tables on which to wait, more people to serve.
My feet, glued to the floor, refused to move. The only sound I heard clearly was my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Vaguely I was aware of the other sounds around me; chatter, chairs being moved, children yelping, but they were muffled now, as if I wore thick headphones, through which only the sound of my own heart filtered.
Still staring, he lifted his clasped hands and forearms off the table, adjusted his jacket and sat up straight; the movement made me jump and judging by the increasing wideness of his smirk, he noticed.
Go to him, the voice in my head whispered. He asked for you specifically. Go to him.
But I couldn't. Something stopped me. Why I should be nervous around him I didn't know, but here he was in my place of work. In my world.
He cocked his head, once, beckoning, and this simple gesture jolted me into action. I cleared my throat, approached, praying no one would interrupt, stop me and ask for a salt cellar, more coffee, a sugar bowl. For once, a miracle happened. On a day as hectic as this, I had free passage across the floor with no interruptions. I arrived at his table with the urge to kick my heels, hands held behind my back, hanging my head.
Get a fucking grip, Holt. Again I cleared my throat, and reached into both pockets, one for my notepad, the other for my pencil. "Yes sir, what can I get you?"
He burst out laughing, showing pearly white teeth, and that dimple I had often-
"Piper. Now there's a loaded question."
Drinking him in. Trying not to smile. God, you're a sight for sore eyes.
With one arm resting on the table he laid the other hand on his thigh, halfway between his knee and his—
Don't look at his crotch, Piper. You're at work. Don't look at his— oh fuck it, go on, look.
And he caught me. There it was, the smile in his eyes, the dimple on his cheek, that knowing look. He knew exactly what he was doing. He'd wanted me to look.
"What's on the menu?" he asked.
"What would you like?"
That smile. Again.
He clasped both hands on the table and lowered his voice so I was forced —not reluctantly at all—to draw closer.
"You really should stop asking me questions like that, you know. I could take them the wrong way."
"I'm at work. In a diner. These are questions I ask everyone."
"Tart."
"Yes, that's on the menu today. I can recommend the cherry."
"Does it come with cream?" He laughed when surprise made me cough. "Piper, sit down."
Why do you have to say my name like that? Why do you have to keep looking at me...? "I can't. I'm at work."
"Aren't you due a break?"
"Soon. But fraternizing with the customers?" I shook my head and tutted. "Just wouldn't do. I'd have other people asking why a waitress was sitting down drinking a cup of coffee instead of serving. Which is why I usually leave the premises or sit 'round back. People don't seem to understand we deserve a break as much as the next person. More so, in fact, what with being on our feet all day, but hey, as long as we're around to bow and scrape, why should anyone bother thinking about our feelings? And... relax... sorry. Right. What do you want?"
Eyebrows raised, he stared out from beneath a furrowed brow. "Piper, are you...?" He gestured to the seat opposite him in the window booth. They were usually the first tables to go; Lord knew how he'd managed to find one and keep it all to himself. "Go on, take a seat."
"I'll get in trouble."
"Don't you want to sit with me?"
"Do you want me to get into trouble with my boss?"
"I really don't give a shit what your boss thinks, and neither should you—"
"She pays my—" But the look on his face—Leo's beautiful face—stopped me. At that moment I cared more about his opinion than my manager's. She would nag; Leo would frown in disapproval. I knew which I thought worse.
I sank onto the bench opposite him with a groan of relief.
"That sound like the sigh of a woman who's thoroughly pissed off."
After shoving my notepad and pencil back in my pockets I continued staring down at my lap. "So why..." Forcing myself to look up, I continued. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm hungry." He rested his chin on his fist and shrugged.
"There were no other diners you could go to?"
"None that have what I want." Wink.
"This doesn't strike me as your sort of eatery."
"Really, Miss Holt—are you putting down your place of work?"
"It's hardly the Four Seasons, is it?"
"You think I'm a Four Seasons kinda guy? Fuck off!" His laughter drew the attention of surrounding diners. Some frowned, some smirked.
"Put it this way. It's a diner. You're... well, you don't strike me as the kind of man who'd go to a poxy cafe for his meals when you could probably afford to go somewhere a bit more upmarket. Or cook for yourself. You're good at that."
Amongst other things.
"I really wish you'd stop putting your job down. In fact, I've gotta admit, I wanted to see what you looked like in that uniform." He stared as if he had X-ray vision, saw through the top half of my black dress and through the table, into my lap, past the lower half of my outfit too.
"So you're not hungry?"
"Oh, of course I am." He chewed his thumbnail, fidgeted for a second, steepled his fingers in front of his face and murmured, "just not for anything you could legally sell."
God, he still wants me. Thank the gods, he still wants me.
"How have you been?"
"Fine."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Liar. You look stressed."
"I'm at work. People have me running here there and everywhere. At home, not so much. But when you come into my workplace, see me in this sort of environment, of course I'll be jittery."
"So... you're not jittery because I'm here?" he teased.
"No. Sorry. I..." Need to get back to work? I had no clue how I was supposed to pull away from him without it sounding like an excuse, some meaningless line I recited with the purpose of getting him out of my sight.
I wanted him to leave me alone so I didn't get used to him. He'd spoiled it by coming in here today, ruined the fantasy. Now whenever I had a bad day I'd keep an eye out for him, hoping he'd show up to raise my spirits. Knew I would in turn be disappointed when he didn't materialize. And I would hate him for causing such inevitable, deep disappointment. Why he couldn't have stayed away I didn't know.
I entwined my fingers and rested my hands on the table but my thumbs worked around each other.
His hand shot across the table to still both of my own, coming to rest on top of them and his touch after so long— only a brief period, but to me it felt like an age—was like a glass of cool water on a hot day. "Let's go outside. Don't tell me your boss would object."
"She might."
"Do you care?" His eyes dared me to say yes.
"Actually..." I slid one of my hands out from under his, slowly, so he wouldn't be startled into breaking contact. I massaged my temple. "After the few days I've had, no, I don't think I do."
"Good girl." He pulled back, adjusted his jacket yet again, and stood. I rose with him, looked around for one of my colleagues.
"Lori! Lori." I caught her as she passed. "I'm going to take my break now. If anyone asks, I'm just going outside for a couple of minutes."
"Boss lady won't be pleased." She looked at me over an invisible pair of half moon spectacles, glaring like a school ma'am. Then grinned. "Ah, go on. Enjoy yourself." She glanced at Leo, back at me, and winked.
"I'm entitled to a break anyway. If she objects, tell her I'll be just out front. She can bite me if she likes."
As I led the way out, Leo laughed just over my shoulder. "Atta girl." He stepped ahead, held open the customer door and followed me outside.
The wind whipped at my ponytail as I stood off to one side, hugging myself against the sudden cold which wasn't uncomfortable; in fact it was refreshing and surprisingly the outdoors was quieter than the inside of the diner, or at least less manic. People still rushed past, but they weren't shouting. There was a gentle hum of traffic somewhere in the background but most of the streets in the city centre itself were either one way or pedestrianised.
And of course I didn't have to keep an eye out for people beckoning me over so they could make a request of me.
"Hey." A gentle hand on the small of my back. "Let's go somewhere."
I looked up at him, the height difference emphasized by the fact today I wore flat, functional shoes. "Namely?"
"God, you're even tinier than I remembered." He made a show of looking down at my feet and tutting. "Damn those shoes. Still..." A shrug. "Round the corner. Somewhere out of the way. Less... less..." Leo's hand didn't move from my back as we strolled, heading for the nearest corner, away from the main streets and shopping centres. There was noise out here, sure, but it was impersonal and we could afford to ignore it.
"You've had a rotten few days, then?" he prompted, stopping near an alleyway which led to the inner courtyard used as a dropping off point for delivery vans, surrounded by shop backs, storage units and staff entrances.
"Yeah." My lips thinned out as I pressed them together painfully hard in an attempt to stop myself saying too much.
"Well?" Hands in his trouser pockets, he hunched his shoulders against the light wind, facing me as I backed up against the brick wall and I didn't feel enclosed. No, I felt protected from the elements.
Protected from the elements and vulnerable to him.
When he looked at me like that I wanted to spill my heart.
"Oh, just... shit happens." I waved dismissively, looked away from him, focused on the middle distance to one side, people walking by, crossing the road, shop doors opening and closing.
"Such as?"
"Look." My spine stiffened as I turned back to him. "What is this about? Why do you care?" Immediately fought back the desire to kick myself.
Leo's eyes widened briefly, returning to normal once he'd gathered his thoughts. "Just asking."
Don't pretend you care. Don't make me think you give a damn. Don't make me get used to you being around to look after me. "Look, I just don't want to bother you with my problems, that's all. They're not your concern, you can't do anything about them, so... what's the point?"
"You never know."
I huffed in amusement.