Another bit of writing

A few hours later, Whataburger was bustling with breakfast customers. The white noise of a dozen conversations at once competed with the sizzling of bacon and eggs on the grill. The heavy aroma of cinnamon rolls and bacon hung in the air, so thick it was almost hard to breath. I delivered trays of food to table after table, picking up the plastic numbered pup tents and sliding them back under the stock pile by the register.

“Shelly.” Trent grouched. It would have been a bark if he were more awake or had more energy. “Number 37.”

I grabbed the tray and wound my way around the restaurant tables, searching for the bright orange 37 pup tent. I found it on the third booth from the door. I slid the tray onto the table and scooped up the number without so much as glancing at the customers or saying a word.

“Shelly Clark?”

The guy at the next table over was looking right at me. He had gorgeous brown eyes and glossy chocolate hair. His tall, muscular frame was twisted toward me, with one hand on the back of the seat bench. A smile played on his lips.

“Y-yes?” I felt weak in the knees suddenly. I reached out to grab the back of one of the chairs beside me, but jerked my hand back when I realized a middle-aged woman was sitting in it, her flabby ribs pressed firmly into the seat back.

He flashed a brilliant smile that exposed a set of perfect white teeth. “Awww. Come on. Don’t tell me you don’t remember me.”

The panic stirred inside me and rose quickly. I should know this guy. This gorgeous guy. Maybe I was his lab partner or his girlfriends best friend. Or our moms had made us play together when we were little. He might even be my cousin.

I really didn’t know what to say. I didn’t really know what to do. I glanced back at Trent filling orders and picked up on his angry glare and his sharp stabbing gesture to come pick up the next order.

The guy across from the mystery man laughed. “Poor Billy. You’re fan club has gone and disbanded.”

I sucked in a breath and my heart sped up. “Billy Norman?” I squeaked. If this was the guy Dad said I had a crush on, I totally understood now. I couldn’t even think straight when I looked at him.

“You do remember.” Billy stood up. He moved close enough to me that he had to look down to see my face. “I almost didn’t recognize you, either.” At that moment, he put his hand on my shoulder and ran his fingers along my skin, down my arm and let my hand slide through his before he dropped his arm at his side again. “You sure have changed,” he said a little quieter.

“Number thirty eight, thirty nine and forty,” A jarring voice came over the intercom. “Your order is ready.” I jumped back a little and looked to the order counter. Trent was still holding onto the microphone stem. He gave me a long, cold, hateful stare, then turned around and pulled some hash browns for the next order.

“I gotta get back to work.” I backed up a little, avoiding Billy’s eyes. “Nice to see you again, Billy.” I ran like a hunted deer to the counter and up to Trent, who was still with his back to me, focused on stuffing hash browns into cardboard holders.

“Trent, can I flip sausages or run drive thru?”

He didn’t pause what he was doing, just grunted as he filled orders.

Mr. Taylor was right beside us in a second. “No way, Shelly. If you can’t handle table service, I sure don’t want to risk you screwing up somebody’s order.” He pointed at the three waiting orders. “Maybe if you do table service perfect for two hours and Irene gets tired of the grill, I’ll think about it.”

“Please?” I whispered, glancing towards the tables. I wasn’t sure I could tell him I was more likely to screw up delivering food than anything else today. But that didn’t make sense unless he also knew I was a blubbering idiot anytime I got near Billy Norman, and I wasn’t about to tell him that.

Mr. Taylor was already gone, talking to a customer at the other end of the counter. I knew better than to even look at Trent.

“Shelly.” Trent grouched again. “Thirty eight through forty. Now.”

Thirty eight was a mom in curlers and two kids in pajamas. They whined when I set the tray down.

“I want a happy meal.”

“I don’t like eggs.”

I grabbed the 38 pup tent and turned around as the mom told them to shut up and eat. I scanned the tables for thirty nine and forty. As I looked at Billy’s table, he smiled at me. He was holding thirty nine in his hand, shaking it by his head like a winning raffle ticket.

I took a deep breath and told my feet to walk towards him, my heart hammering in my chest. I set the tray on their table, trying to avoid looking Billy in the eye for more than a second. The look he was giving me made it hard for me to breathe.