HIS FAVORITE GINGER ✓

SIX.

GRAYSON GIVES HIS WATCH A glance for the millionth time this night. Thirty minutes feel like years to him and he knows he's not going to live it peacefully. If he survives this and doesn't break the cash register or his head, his shift will be over and before he knows it, he's cuddling with Mr. Nickleberry — his teddy shark — in his room.

Very few people come to this shithole. Especially since some damn restaurant with ridiculous discounts opened, business here has been saggy. It's almost 8:00 pm, the emptiness is expected. There's a hot lesbian couple ravaging their mouths in the far left corner of the eatery. Grayson may as well grab the opportunity; free porn. And then there's an albino man that looks in his forties. His glasses that are huger than twin UFOs reflects the blue light coming from his laptop. His white brows have their opposite ends standing to form a dagger. He is so serious with whatever he is doing that Grayson wonders if he, by chance, is pyrokinetic, the poor laptop will burst into flames and burn the restaurant.

"Heyyy."

Grayson's eyes takes a O-turn in exasperation. His coworker will never let him have peace. Whether Mariah's skull — as empty as this restaurant — is trepanned and the simple words 'you are not my type' is blown inside of the hole with a megaphone, Mariah won't register.

Mariah purrs, her livid bob bobs downwards as she draws circles on the counter. "You have any plans for tonight, Gray bae?" Mariah is a miserable disgrace to goth-dom. Despite all the fake dark jewelry and outfits, her bright smiles and even brighter attitude makes her personality a bitter oxymoron.

"I have a lot of plans alright. To flip burgers in Wonderland's circus. And please never call me that again."

"Why though, Gray bae? It's cute, just like you."

Dunderhead.

Grayson regrets nothing than telling her he's bisexual. He should've just said he's plain gay and shit can never happen. But it's Mariah, nothing can stop her. The thing that Grayson regrets even more is the day Mariah blew his wad after closing time. He still recalls that day like it is five minutes ago. He was so tired from exams and football. He wanted something to vent his stress on and he neither smokes nor drinks, he resorts to sex. It serves as a perfect distraction from his rackety life.

"You'll be mine one day, Gray bae." Mariah spits like a vengeful witch.

"Dream on, pariah."

"Anyways," Mariah drawls again. This time, Grayson's shoulders twitches to swing a fist at her pasty face. One thing he hates, people stretching syllables. It irks him so much, he doesn't think straight anymore. "You're a meme star."

Grayson yawns, stretching his limbs sore from being frozen on that for the past three hours. He's begged the owner of his eatery to give him morning, afternoon and night shifts. It's simple, if he doesn't get this, many things will happen; he will be kicked out of the house, he will drop out of school and turn into a gay stripper — not that that doesn't sound too awesome — and/or starve to death. He's his own parent.

"What meme again?" One thing about Mariah; she's Drake's incarnate when it comes to memes.

She sluggishly spins her slippery iPhone in between the tips of her fingers. "The meme of you with funny makeup on your face while carrying some ginger rat in your arms."

Grayson's foot stops tapping the floor as he replays Mariah's statement.

"Lemme see that." He doesn't even bother asking for it when he relieves Mariah of her own phone. That's when he sees someone — something — that almost looks like him. Grayson wants to throw himself off a cliff. Mariah is really helpless, isn't she?

"There's a clown emoji on my face. There's no makeup of sorts, Lady Sherlock."

Nincompoop.

"Either way, the ginger looks cute. Like really cute from that view."

"How did I even manage to get myself on a memerazzi?"  Grayson whisper-yells incredulously. Even though he loves attention as much as he loves Mr. Nickleberry, he admits it's just too creepy for his liking, and for such a trivial thing.

"Don't underestimate that hellhole you call your school. Crescent High is a minefield of migrating cobras."

"Hey!" Just then, the doorbell chimes, signalling the entry of a new customer but Grayson doesn't pay attention to anything but gawking at Mariah's preposterous meme collection.

"Is it just me or this redhead looks almost the same as the one on the phone?" Mariah's eleventh elbow nudge is ignored till a soft alto flutters into their midst. Grayson looks up to the see the unexpected. Then he bursts into a blinding grin. "Welcome to the Burger King, how may I help you, my kind sir?"

"You can start by ridding yourself of that hideous Abraham Lincoln accent you're imitating and the apron that makes you look like a full time househusband."

"Hey, that's rude —"

"Wasn't talking to you," Alejandro stares down at her pin. "Mariah Carey."

Grayson looks like a balloon filled with coke and mentos; he's going to explode with laughter any minute from now. Mariah however refuses to surrender.

"You have no right to just —"

"I want five spicy chicken burgers with extra chicken and two cokes." Alejandro is already ordering away, leaving Mariah butchered. The shade is so strong, it can shield her from the rain.

She pops back to life immediately Alejandro exits the scene. "What's his deal anyways? You know him?"

"Of course. He's the one in that meme." Grayson points to the picture still lit on her phone.

"Wow." Mariah breathes. She looks at the real Alejandro and back to the phone like she doesn't believe Grayson. "He actually looks cuter in reality than this photo where he looks like a totaled sickler."

Grayson shrugs, keeping his eyes trained on the ginger. Deep within his mind, he wishes Alejandro is gay.

Ten more minutes left for Grayson to bid the day adieu but he has found a new interest and wishes for a neverending today. Alejandro sits stiffly near the main door. His back arches over as he gormandizes his meal like he can consume a horse if it suddenly appears. Grayson should be disgusted, rather, he's amused. It's the same amusement that causes his legs to move on their own and to his table.

"Upon all the things I've heard about the famous Grayson Jackson, him being a Burger King isn't one of them." Alejandro muffles in between mouthfuls of proteins. Little escapes from his mouth and onto the table. Grayson raises a brow at the total stranger that sits before him. Is this the Alejandro Bale he knows? — wait a sec, he doesn't even know him at all.

"I like to be lowkey. Besides, people in school don't seem to like this place so it's peaceful for me." Grayson thinks better than to attack the seemingly famished ginger with a vicious barrage of questions. "What are you doing here? Are you going to eat all that?"

Alejandro pauses. "What the fuck is this? Interrogation Classroom?" He picks up the three burgers remaining and practically shoves them into his coat's pocket.

Grayson cringes. "I can get you a plastic bag if you like. All you have to do is just ask."

Alejandro's palm slaps the table as he stands up from his seat. His face is dead as a dodo and red as a hobo's. "Keep the change."

Has Grayson done something wrong?

Grayson stands too, deliberating on holding his hand back. "Hey where are you going?!"

"Your mama's fucking bedroom!" Alejandro yells, slamming the eatery's door shut.

Grayson lets out a big sigh and slumps into his seat. Despite being so stranded in the wilderness of thoughts, his eyes wander to the table where a hundred dollar bill and something else lay; Alejandro's phone.

⏯

This chapter is soooo Short n rubbish *weeps*