Desire

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The clock on the wall is torturing me, its hands moving so slowly, I'm sure they aren't even moving at all. I'm counting down; only 30 minutes left until I can clock out.

"Y'know, staring at that thang won't make time go no faster, chile." My eyes almost peek at the back of my eyelids, but I suppress the eye roll. Mr. Ellis doesn't deserve that; he isn't the target of my frustrations. "Here, now. Table 7's food is up."

"Table 7? I don't have table 7, Mr. Ellis. Where's Christine?"

My eyes peel away from the clock when my question is met with silence. The older gentleman points his head in the direction of the office that sits tucked away in the back of the kitchen. "She's not feeling good again. Poor thing, pregnancy is taking a toll on her."

My heart aches for the girl, 8 months pregnant and planning to work til the end. She's exhausted, often sleeping in the cramped room for her entire shift. I reach for the aromatic trays, more than willing to cover for the waddling woman.

"She shouldn't have to work."

"You gon' pay her bills, y/n?" the old man retorts. "If it was left up to me, you wouldn't be working either. This job, or that other one." The end of his sentence slithers off his tongue in disgust.

The sigh that releases from me is impatient. I didn't feel like having this conversation with him again. The father-like figure made it clear how much he despised the work I do, often telling me "You gonna slide down that pole right on down to hell."

"College don't pay for itself, Mr. Ellis." A deep 'mm' is all I get in return before I'm shooed into the dining room to deliver meals.

"Table 7... table 7," I mumble, leaving the familiarity of my section of the restaurant to enter the unfamiliarity of Christine's.

Table 7 sits in the center of the room, and it is surrounded by gorgeous women. They cause me to stumble over my feet a bit, but thankfully, the food doesn't go down. At the heart of the group, is a girl whose eyes refuse to look away as I walk toward them. It causes my cheeks to go red and my gaze to fall.

"Hey everyone. Christine is taking a quick break, so I'll be your server. My name is y/n."

"Y/n? I've never heard that name before. It's lovely." the one whose intent look I couldn't escape spoke. Her accent was thick and heavy, yet her voice was light and pulled me in.

The blush in my cheeks has for sure crept to the tips of my ears now. "Tha-thank you. Alright now, y'all gonna have to help me out some. I didn't take y'all's orders, so I don't know who has what."

The dark-skinned beauty to my left opened her mouth first. "I had the grilled salmon." With a swift nod, I slid the hot plate in front of her. "The vegetarian meal belongs to me," expressed the one on my right.

"That must leave you with the pork tacos?" I question, placing the plate in front of the girl with the dense vernacular. She nods with the corner of her lip between her rows of teeth. "Though, I'm suddenly feeling like cake," she whispers when I reach across her to deliver her food, eyes clearly no longer on my face.

The boldness in her words separates my lips and almost buck my knees from under me. "Um, I-ha," a nervous giggle escapes me and I take a small step back. A quick 'ahem' clears the shock from my throat. "If you ladies need anything else, don't be afraid to ask," I ramble off before beelining back to the kitchen.