A Note for My Head Asking What My Heart Said

The next day, working her Sunday late-morning shift at the diner, Zel did something she didn’t do often anymore, and almost never did when she was working. She smiled a true and honest smile.

“Can I start you folks off with some drinks this morning?” she asked politely, smiling at the family of three seated in her section. It wasn’t that she was in a particularly spectacular mood—she’d been up half the night poring over bills—and she didn’t really care about the particular turnout of the day. Just the thought of knowing why the lanky, dark-haired teen at this particular table had his hood up and head down almost on the table made her grin.

“Orange juice for me,” the father/husband muttered, gazing at the menu. Zel nodded and jotted it down.

“And I’ll have green tea--” His wife squinted at Zel’s nametag. “...mare-ee-zella. Pretty name.”

A muscle in Zel’s cheek twinged as she gritted her teeth. “Thank you,” she said brightly, jotted down the orders in her little booklet. “And for the young gentleman?”

Said young gentleman uttered something that fell somewhere between a moan and a grumble and Zel had a hard time not chuckling at his misfortune. “Jack,” his mother warned, giving him a steely glare.

“Nothing,” Jack repeated more decipherably, not lifting his head. “Uh, water.”

Zel nodded and returned to the back to fix their drinks, as well as take care of her other tables. After a few minutes she returned with a tray, setting down the orange juice, a pot of tea along with a teacup, a large glass of water, and a mug of hot, black coffee. “We didn’t order that,” the older man announced, watching her set the white mug in front of the slumped hooded form.

“So I won’t have coffee on my break,” she replied with a shrug. Jack looked up at her slowly and squinted thoughtfully. Zel smiled conspiratorially. “You look like you need it more than I do.” He blinked and she pulled out her booklet again. “Are you ready to order?”

As she worked the other tables in her section, Zel kept glancing over at the family of three and looked away every time she saw Jack looking at her. Which apparently was a lot. He opened his mouth to say something to her when she brought them their food, but a crash from the other side of the room drew her away.

“He’s cute,” Adam pointed out shrewdly, crossing behind her back with a tray of empty dishes. Zel started and tore her gaze away from Jack, drinking his-- technically, her-- coffee, to blink at her co-worker. Adam grinned. “So you gonna ask him out or what?”

Zel rolled her eyes mildly. “No, Adam. I am not going to ask him out. Like always.”

“I think you should.” He swung around towards the kitchen. “He’s been staring at you since you went over there.”

“Kolston!”

And that, Zel decided, was an excellent time to bring her new friend and his family their check.

“I met you after the show last night, didn’t I?” Jack asked as she set down the little tray. Zel tilted her head slightly. Show? His eyes darted to his parents, and instantly she understood. No one’s parents needed to know they were out at a bar, much less if they were underage.

“Absolutely,” she played along with a smile. “You and the rest of the band.”

“You were out late then?” Jack’s father asked, slapping a credit card onto the tray as his wife slipped the mints into her purse.

“Uh, yeah,” he stuttered, looking to Zel for help.

She picked up the tray and smiled. “The guys were hungry and I had nothing to do, so we went to grab some food. I’ll just be right back.” When she reached the cash register, Zel realised her heart was pounding. Not because of lying—she’d gotten used to that—but to whom she was doing it.

Zel returned the card to the table and began to ask Jack if he felt better—hangovers, she’d heard, were killers—but a group at another table called for her attention. With a minute sigh, she forced a smile, said, “Have a nice day,” and went about her job.

As she was ringing up the routine coffee and breakfast sampler for the nice old man who came in every Sunday, Zel felt a pair of eyes on her again and glanced up to find Jack leaning on the counter and staring up at her with an adorable smile. She chuckled. “Miss me already?” she joked.

“I just got a text from Alex,” he informed her, sitting in a swivel chair and proceeding to spin around. “He’s wondering if you’re as hot as he remembers you being.” Zel rolled her eyes and waved the old man off on his way. “I’m Jack Barakat, by the way.”

She stuck out her hand and shook his promptly. “Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Marizella Kolston—that’s mar-it-sel-la; not Mary-Zella.” She smiled lightly at his bemused expression. “But you can call me Zel.”

“Hey, Zel. So what I would’a said if I’d’a been more awake earlier was, you work here too?” Zel laughed as Jack’s parents called him from the door. Rolling his eyes, he took one last spin in the chair, got up, and almost fell over, which forced her to stifle more laughter. Jack grinned. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Maybe,” she agreed, leaning into her hand. “Um... how about you ignore that text from your friend? And you not tell him I work here?” Jack tilted his head, confused, and Zel quickly thought of an excuse. “Well, this and Monday’s are my job. I can’t be entertaining people when I’m supposed to be working. I’ll probably get in trouble for talking to you this long.”

Jack grinned, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, tightish and sitting rather low on his waist, as he walked backward towards the door. “Wouldn’t it suck if I was too drunk to remember?”