Strangers To Lovers

A Date with Destiny at Table Four

I was sucked by the din of patrons, waiters, and the constant talk of the restaurant as soon as I walked in. I watched Levi walk past me as usual, but this time I pretended not to hear him mispronounce my name over and over again while he declared, "Ella, we've got a table at number four that's been waiting for over two minutes, desperately in need of a server to take their drink order." I managed to remain calm as he repeated his unusual way of pronouncing my name, even though it was becoming increasingly obvious. I was also holding a plate of food.

I had to sneak a glimpse at his pronunciation, which had grown on me as much as the dim lighting in the restaurant, as he made his way to the hostess station. "I'll be right over," I said, grinning mischievously. In an instant, I sprinted back to table seven. As I approached, Levi peered over his shoulder and wrinkled his brows, showing a hint of irritation.
He gave a quick "okay" and spoke. I hurried back toward the table, rolling my eyes in a way that only I could understand. I felt really bonded to table seven. This table made my evenings at the restaurant bearable, if not wonderful. But table eight, the neighboring misery, was always a terrible thing. I don't know if it was karma or some weird curse, but it seemed like every time I went to table eight, I would run into rude, obnoxious, and arrogant customers.

Whenever I dropped my arm to put down a dish or drink, several businessmen thought it was OK to see beneath my shirt. It gave me the willies-some of these people in their nice suits having the audacity to behave so blatantly. "Chicken Cordon Bleu," I remarked calmly as I approached with a dish in hand, and a particular enormous man wearing a tie with stars arrived in front of me.

My table-bound friend replied incoherently, saying something like, "Nice." For a while, I was confused by his ambiguous statement. Which breast was he referring to-mine or the chicken kind? I forced myself to be polite and chose to keep my thoughts to myself. I knew deep down that these clients would likely leave me with large tips if I could tolerate their offensive remarks.

I turned to face my assistant after serving everyone's dishes and begged for a break. I wondered what more had to be done to get things done quickly so that I could end the day. "Please tell me there's nothing left," I begged her, my eyes betraying my desperation.

Sky-Spangled Moron asked, "It's my pleasure to provide another Blue Moon," and I grinned in return. He seemed to believe that he could summon a blue moon at any time. I shook his hand with a genuine look of delight. However, when I turned back, I saw Collin, another waiter, staring at table four with a little frown on his face.

I scowled at the table, looking away from Collin, wondering aloud, "Am I the only one on shift?" I let out a breath of relief as I looked over to the counter and saw that there were only two people there. This will be easy, I thought to myself. Seizing the chance, I went to the counter to welcome the two patrons.

The two young guys turned to face me as I enthusiastically welcomed them and said, "I'm Ella, and I'll be your server tonight." At that moment, my confidence failed me. These two were frequent customers of the salon next door, and it was easy to identify them thanks to their gorgeous appearance.

Because of all the gorgeous people who ate at the restaurant, I used to feel unworthy every time I worked there. I was still feeling that way after my shift ended. However, these two were superior to everyone else. Their well-groomed hair, crisp outfits, and veinous forearms are some of their distinguishing characteristics. It was more than just their appearance that scared me. Their comments had a tone of subtle disdain, and I couldn't help but wonder whether they enjoyed making me feel uncomfortable.

The one on the right was immaculate, with well-groomed hair and an air of refinement. He remarked on my name with a smooth, inquisitive tone, saying, "That's an odd name, but I don't think that's the point." There was a soft civility in his voice that came from inside. A quintessential gentleman in every way.