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Green. That's what first strikes me. His eyes are so green that they almost glow in his face. I've never seen someone with eyes that color before. It reminds me of the green of England, a color so vibrant that I can still see it in my mind even though it's been almost forever since I've been back. The rest of him is just as striking. Sandy blonde hair that's haphazardly swept off his face like some girl just finished grabbing it in a moment of passion. Lips perfectly full and lush, and currently curled up in a smirk as we continue to stare each other down. He's beautiful.
And I'm not waiting on his table.
I turn quickly around to see where Bethany went, but she's already helping another table. I look around the room, trying to see if anyone else can help me out, knowing that it's an exercise in futility. Bethany and I are the only ones on duty tonight, so unless I want to go drag the crotchety owner of the place out of the back office, I'm going to have to suck it up.
I take a deep breath, put on a fake but polite grin, and walk towards the table.
I've been so caught up with Mr. Perfect at the table that I completely miss the fact that the rest of his table is full of other guys. All are good looking in their own way, but none of them hold a candle to the man who is currently still staring at me intensely. I notice that they are all dressed well, something that you don't see hardly ever in a place like this. We cater more to the down on their luck, rather than the lucky of the population. And this table of men could most definitely be classified as lucky.
"Welcome to Charlie's. What can I get you all to drink today?" I ask them, keeping my eye contact averted from the veritable force of nature I can feel to the right of me.
The men had been laughing at something before I got to the table, but they're all quiet and staring at me acutely now. It doesn't give me pause. I know I'm a beautiful girl. Being loved so completely over the course of my many lifetimes has driven that fact into me. It would be a slap in all of my loves' faces to doubt that fact now.
Unlike the decaying bones of my lovers, I never age. Perfectly preserved it seems for time and all eternity, the youthful glow of my early twenties is all I will ever know.
My attention flits back to the table as each man orders a drink. My stomach gives an involuntary clench when the green-eyed god at the table opens his mouth to give his order.
"Water, no ice," he says, in a voice like chocolate, so rich and deep my cheeks flush.
One of the guys at the table chuckles and I curse my pale skin as I skitter away to collect their drink orders.
The next hour passes in agony. The men are polite, talking quietly amongst themselves as I bring them their food and refill their drinks. They aren't inappropriate with me, but I feelhisgaze on me no matter where I am in the room. It feels suffocating.
It isn't until after they have paid their bill and left that I can finally breathe again. But I'm also filled with a sense of loss.
The rest of my shift passes with little excitement. I wave goodbye to Bethany as I walk out of the diner. She's still rolling silverware and I'm tempted to stay and help, but I've done my fair share for the day and my feet hurt. I can't afford a car, and I need every bit of my tips for my bills for the month, so a cab is out of the question. Thus, I've still got about a two mile walk ahead of me. I square my shoulders and set out into the brisk, autumn night.
I'm just about to cross the street in front of the diner when a long, sleek, black limo pulls out from somewhere and begins to drive towards me. It's sorely out of place on this side of town, and I wonder what it's doing here. Annoyed when it stops right in front of me, I move to walk around it. Suddenly, one of the windows rolls down. Even in the dark, his bright green eyes stand out.
"Need a ride?" he asks.
A ride would actually be wonderful but I'm definitely not getting into a limo, late at night, with someone who seems to be stalking me since he and his buddies left hours ago.
"No thanks," I say, hurrying to go around the limo. The door opens up and he gets out, blocking my way.
"What can I say to convince you?" he asks, flashing a charming smile.
"Nothing," I reply. "I'm not in the habit of taking rides from strangers."
He holds out a hand.
"My name is Liam," he says. "Now as soon as you tell me your name we won't be strangers and I can give you a ride home."
"How long have you been waiting out here?" I ask, ignoring his request for my name.
"Your friend in there was only too happy to let me know what time you got off of your shift," he tells me with a smirk.
I'm going to kill Bethany tomorrow. If this delicious looking stalker doesn't kill me first.
"I'm sorry, but I have to go," I tell him, maneuvering to go around him. Just then there's a bolt of lightning that flashes across the sky. It's immediately followed by the crash of thunder. I look up just as the clouds decide to release the torrent of water they've been threatening us with all day.
"Just let me give you a ride," he yells over the pounding rain, holding out his hand.
We're both getting soaked, and even though I know I shouldn't, the thought of walking miles in this storm, in the only uniform I have, finally leads to me nodding in agreement.
He seems to sigh in relief, before pulling me unexpectedly towards the limo. I crawl into its plush interior, flinching at the leather seats that are going to be destroyed by the water dripping off my body. He follows close behind me and then shuts the door. We sit there staring at one another in silence.
He pushes his soaking, wet hair out of his eyes, and smiles tentatively.
