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JAMES
We end up getting slammed. My section is so packed that it feels like I’m constantly multiple steps behind. Customers wave me down for such inconsequential demands that all I want is to scream in their faces. The vibes feel off, more rowdy, aggressive even. Most of the wait staff blame it on the full moon.
Even if only a handful believe in astrology, no one can deny the effects of a full moon weekend. Without fail, customers will turn into snarling, snapping hellhounds and at least one of us will end up screaming in the walk-in fridge.
At least this time, I’m not the one crying in the back.
I think my little romp with Ozzy pre-service helped me coast through the worst of it.
Now, it’s after midnight and I’m sitting at table 56, rolling cutlery. After a month and a half of working at Orso, it’s become muscle memory. I stare into space, my feet throbbing, wondering if I should go out or just go home, order pizza, and eat it in bed.
I can’t help but wonder what Ozzy’s doing tonight. I don’t automatically assume he’ll want to hang out, but I can’t deny I’d want to.
It’s only been two weeks since my break-up with Zachary, and a week since I last saw him at Stanley’s. Am I moving too fast with Ozzy? Even if wearejust friends, he’s still a distraction from my problems. Maybe I should be taking this time to learn how to be single and really embrace my independence.
But it’s hard to focus whenever he’s around.
Like a magnet, my eyes land on the man in question. He walks up to the bar where Elle is sitting, busy talking to Itzel. His chef jacket looks rumpled like he’s gone through the wringer himself tonight. While they exchange some words, Ozzy pushes his blue bandana off his forehead, letting his curls fall loose. He spots me, his eyes lingering for half a second before focusing back on Elle and my stomach can’t help but do a little swoop.
I go back to rolling cutlery and unbutton the top of my black shirt, suddenly feeling a little hot. I must have zoned out for a second because I startle when Ozzy pulls up a seat and sits down in front of me.
“Managed to survive your shift, Jimbo?” he asks with the usual curl of his lip, the small dimple appearing on his cheek.
“Barely,” I groan, letting my body fall onto the chair behind me. He keeps his smile while he falls silent, staring at me. “What?” I eventually say.
He shrugs. “Nothing. I just like staring at you.”
Warmth spreads behind my chest and I turn shy.
As if breaking out of a spell, he gives his head a little shake and straightens his back. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I’m staying late tonight.”
My eyebrows dip. “Why? The kitchen’s been closed for over an hour.”
He sighs, drumming the table with his fingers. “The rush never stopped and we ended up using absolutely everything so someone needs to stay to prep overnight.” He looks at me with slight defeat and presses his lips. “I volunteered.”
“So you’re just going to be here by yourself?”
“Yeah,” he says casually. “I’ve done it before. If Elle is gone then I just wait for the night porter to show up before leaving since I don’t have the keys.”
“I can keep you company,” I blurt out.
Shit. I hope that didn’t sound too desperate. Although I’m exhausted, hanging out with Ozzy sounds more inviting than sitting alone in bed with my thoughts.
“Really?” There’s a flash of vulnerability in his gaze but it’s gone as fast as it appears. It almost feels like he’s surprised I’d choose to stick around and spend time with him.
“Yeah, why not? I don’t have anything better to do.”
He presses his hand to his heart. “I’m touched.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s not—you know what I mean.”
He winks, his hand finding my calf under the table, giving it a little squeeze.
“Come find me when you’re done,” he says before standing up.
I smile as I nod, finishing another rolled cutlery. My eyes are still tracking Ozzy when my phone buzzes on the table. A quick look makes my stomach lurch.
It’s Zachary.
