Young Writers Society

Of course I’d lied when they’d asked if I had any previous working experience. I mean, being a waitress? That’s cake! I had this, and if things went my way, no one would notice anything otherwise.

How hard could serving food actually be, anyway?

At least, that’s what I thought to myself as rounded another booth, prepared to take my first order.

But then I saw him. The most beautiful human being I had ever laid eyes on. With sunkissed skin and perfect wind-tossed dark hair. And his eyes… his eyes were like an autumn storm, framed in dark lashes. When they turned to me, I could’ve sworn I saw the flashes of distant lightning. The shaven jaw on this guy was so sharp it cast an actual shadow on his profile. He wore a fitted leather jacket and underneath a simple gray t-shirt. His jeans were faded and worn, his sneakers slightly dusty from use.

I clamped my mouth shut, suddenly all too aware that I was obviously staring this guy down. I felt a heavy stone drop into the bottom of my stomach and then I was looking into a familiar set of cold brown eyes matched with a cruel half-smile and my heart was pounding as a pale finger traced its way up my thigh, my hip, my jaw-

I stumbled, tripping on my own feet as the dingy white tile zoomed closer. I could practically feel the pain as my face was about to become up close and personal with the floor-

But I didn’t hit the ground.

A strong set of arms caught me just in time, pulling me upward. Then I was looking into those stormy blue eyes and I lost all sense of where and when I was.

Leather Jacket gave me a small smile and his eyes sparkled in a way that made my cheeks flush.

He tilted his head. “I think you just-” He paused, and I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. “-fell for me.”

I snapped back to reality with a cruel start. “Put me down,” I hissed. Was my face on fire? It felt like it was. The embarrassment was too much.

Once I was back on my own two feet, I shot Leather Jacket a glare. I wasn’t sure why, but it made me feel better.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice was like a rising storm, all power and confidence and rough shadows and suggestion.

I choked down some air. “I’m- fine.”

There was a beat of silence and I realized that I’d smeared his burger and fries all over the linoleum. My cheeks heated again. “I’m so sorry,” I blurted out, kneeling to scoop the food back onto the plate. Luckily this diner was cheap and the plate was plastic and not shattered across the floor. Then again, I didn’t know why I was bothering anyway. There was a broom… surely, that would be easier to pick this up with.

I didn’t get the broom.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” he replied. He looked down at me, smirking. “I didn’t come here for the food, anyway.”

What was that supposed to mean? I stopped cleaning up the floor and rose to my feet. I dusted off my uniform and leveled my gaze with Leather Jacket’s own. “Really? Because that’s what normal people visit the diner for. To eat.”

Look at me, talking about what’s normal and what isn’t, when I’m clearly anything but.

There was something like acceptance in those eyes as he shifted from a smirk into a real smile. “My name’s West, by the way.” He held out a hand, like we were on the fast track to becoming friends. Like we were going to see each other again after this ridiculous incident.

I shook his hand. His grip was firm, his hands calloused with seemingly years of work. “Katherine,” I said.