Room for Wentz

I was awoken by the sounds of something scratching against my door. Cracking an eye open, the four-legged shadow under the door was easy to recognize. I let out a lazy yawn and continued to watch Hemingway sniff for my unfamiliar scent, whining as he did so.

Tempted to pull the blanket over my head, the calendar on my bedside table made me stop to stare at the date. My breathing was cut short when I realized it was 'Work Day', the words circled and written in bright red. My hand instantly flew to my cellphone, flipping it open to check the time.

Seven forty-five. Work starts in fifteen minutes.

"Shit!" I hissed, yanking the comforter off myself and rolling off the bed before rushing into the bathroom.

"You're five minutes late," A voice called out, coming from a woman at the counter just as I pushed the glass door open with all my strengh. After circling the town for a good ten minutes, I finally found the boutique down the corner street.

She flipped the magazine in her hands close before taking a good look at me. Her pixie hair was jet black, with bright streaks of blue on her fringe. Walking over to stand in front of me, she was slightly shorter dressed in black jeans and a white shirt that says, 'Make Cookies, Not War'. She looked young, somewhere around my age.

She gave me a look as my heart raced, voices in my head were actually laughing at me. 'She doesn't like you, does she now? You're so getting fired. Look at you, pale without make up and hair's in a total mess. Not to mention you're not wearing the same pair of shoes.'

I brushed it off immediately, thinking that I might be hallucinating from the lack of sleep. Then it hit me. Just moments before I rushed by a bookstore a boy was staring funnily at my feet, but I ignored him and turned away. Curiousity was hard to control, my hands turned into fists as I restrained myself from looking at my feet. 'Oh God, please please please, please, be the same pair of-'

"Nice shoes."

She spoke suddenly, resisting herself from laughing and my hopes crashed like glass. I was wearing flats; but one was covered with polka dots and the other was shining red.

"Um," I bit my lip, embarassed to look up. "Thanks."

I gathered as much courage as I could, I needed the job. "Sorry I'm late, it won't happen again I swear."

She blinked, "Well, why are you apologizing to me for? Come gimme a hand at the back, you're lucky Cheryl's away on her trip."

Who- wait, what? "Huh?"

She sighed before heading back to the counter, "Cheryl? The boss?"

She noticed that I was still staring blankly at her, then a smirk appeared. "What? You think I own this place?"

"I wish I did, but the clothings here are too fancy for my liking." She chuckled.

"The name's Eliza, but I'd prefer Liz."

Silence. Awkward silence. Uncomfortable, awkward silence.

"Come on, don't just stand there." She moved to the back of the room, "We need to unload these before the day ends." She stopped at the store room and opened the door, revealing walls of cupboard boxes.

After spending hours carefully unpacking, checking, re-checking and steaming perhaps a million thousand dollar outfits at work, my body was close to shutting down the moment I had the key in to open the door before entering the house. What really made me exhausted was knowing that I'll be doing the same thing for the next few months, and it was only my first day.

"Hello, dog." I greeted the excited canine grumpily the moment I stepped into the quiet house, thinking that Molly and Peter must be out. The thought of crawling into bed and snoozing til the next morning tempted me to get into my room as soon as possible, but my legs refused to move an inch. Frustrated and sore, I gave up and dropped onto the living room couch. Dozing off the moment I released a sigh and shut my eyes.

"Stop it, Hemingway, you'll wake her up."

I stirred, lazily flickering my eyes open to meet a snout. The moment it saw me wide awake he stuck out his tongue and began licking my face. I immediately pulled away but stopped when the pain from my neck began to spread, realizing that I had been sleeping on my stomach for the past few hours. Moaning, my hand went up to soothe my neck before I heard movement on the other couch.

"Long day?" Peter suddenly spoke, lying on the couch next to mine without taking his eyes off the tv screen. With his heavily tattooed arms over his head, he was watching The Simpsons with the tv on mute.

"Yeah," I yawned, sitting up to look around the house groggily. "When did you get back?"

He blinked at the screen before answering, "Bout an hour ago, wasn't expecting you to be down here."

"Hmm," Streching and noticing the absence of someone. "Where's Molly?"

"Out, won't be back for an hour." He finally got up, and our eyes met.

"Hungry?"

I wasn't thinking about food until he mentioned it, and my tummy began growling. I recalled only having an energy bar for lunch, running around the boutique with it hanging out of my mouth. As a matter of fact I don't even remember finishing it.

He chuckled when he heard the sounds coming from my stomach, my face slowly heating up to a bright red as I embarassingly placed a hand over to rub it. Hemingway barked and Peter stood up from the couch, walking over to put on his hoodie by the kitchen chair.

He picked up his car keys from the island and went to the door, right before pausing to look at me. "Well, let's go."

"What- Where are we going?"

"Out." He gave me a look, "To eat. You're not the only one who's starving, you know."

The thought of going out for dinner with him made me uncomforable. I mean, we barely knew each other, why would he want to take me out for food? But to think about it, did he actually plan to take me out?

"It's kinda chilly tonight," He spoke as he opened the door, "And I'm thinking of having Chinese."

We stopped at a small Chinese stall downtown, Peter said that the food there wasn't bad and he didn't want to look far. We sat at the stools provided in front of the stall, allowing us to watch the fry cook prepare our food as we waited. Quietly.

"So what brings you here to L.A.?" He finally broke the silence when the cook served our food.

"Well, um." I slumped on the stool, not sure on how to begin. "My dad kicked me out so I had to find a new place to stay."

Wow. That sounded lame.

"Really?" He chuckled, "What? Did you get into trouble or something?"

"No, not really." Watching him trying to seperate the wooden chopsticks, "He said it was time for me to get out of the house, and you know, find a job and live on my own." I paused awkwardly, hoping that I didn't sound too boring.

"So you just moved out?" Steam rose from his plate the moment he mixed his fried noodles.

"Oh no," I gulped my tea before answering. "I lived with a friend of mine for a few months before moving in to your place."

He nodded, "Where do you work?"

"Some fancy boutique." I made a face trying to recall the name of the store, "I think it's called Kara or something like that, today was my first day"

Then it was quiet again, him busy with his food while I tried to focus on mine. The aroma from the fried rice made my mouth water, but after two bites I thought it was my turn to play 20 questions.

"So um, what do you do?"

This time he stopped chewing. "I play in a band. "

He hesitated on his sentence, as if he wanted to continue but something stopped him. A band, eh? So he's like a musician. But he doesn't look much like a singer to me...

I tilt my head slightly to get a better view of his face, right before he suddenly turned to look at me, starling me from my seat.

"Fall Out Boy."

I blinked. "Huh?"

"My band." A small smile appeared. "You've never heard of us?"

I shook my head. Fall Out what? What kind of name is that?

"It's all right, dinner's on me."

I was digging through my purse when the bill came, then I felt him nudge my arm to stop me. He took his wallet out from his back pocket, thanking the fry cook as he paid.

"I also wanna apologize, about the incident."

So that's what this is about.

"I uh, I wasn't expecting to meet you like that." He chuckled, looking a little embarrassed. "I was busy on the phone and I didn't know-"

"Hey it wasn't all your fault, I wasn't looking out either."

"Well, can we at least start over?"

I'm not gonna lie, I was intrigued by his effort of trying to be chivalrous and get along with me. But he seem like a really nice guy, and what's the point of hating someone you're gonna see everyday just because of some shirt?

"Okay."

He grinned when he saw me smile, but was interrupted by the fry cook when he handed us fortune cookies. Peter cracked his open and took out the tiny piece of paper inside, unfolding it to read his fortune for the day. An eyebrow rose before he laughed silently,

"That wasn't chicken."

He looked up, signaling me to open mine. I followed, popping the broken cookie into my mouth as I read mine, unsure if I should say it out loud.

'A thrilling time is in your immediate future.'