Chapter Text
If there was anything I hated more than working the night shift of the rowdiest diner in town, it’s the walk home. Feet sore, smelling like ketchup and stale coffee - it was the worst part of my mornings. Of course, I could get a car, but then I wouldn’t be able to afford food for a couple of months. And I won’t even think about asking for a ride home, the people who hang around the diner in the late hours of the night and early hours of the day are always unpleasant, coworkers included.
So, that leaves me stuck with walking home. Honestly, I’m probably being dramatic. The walk from the diner to my single-story family home is only about 30 minutes, 25 if I’m feeling particularly motivated (meaning I have something at home that I need to study for before taking a quick nap and going to school). Being a senior in high school and having to single-handedly support myself and my little brother is a real drag. It’s tough, but it’s life and if I don’t do it, then nobody else will. Because there is no one else.
I never knew my father, and from what I gathered, he was a real bum. My ma is a different story. She was the light of my life, my best friend. As little as our small family had, she made the most of it. That is, until she passed away last year. Cancer is a bitch.
Anyways, tonight’s shift was a hard one. There’s a rodeo in town for the weekend, so the amount of customers there was more than double, yet the tips still sucked. I had gotten yelled at and berated by so many different people over the littlest of things. If I didn’t need this job to survive, I would’ve quit a long time ago.
My head is pounding. Golly, I need a coffee.
Just in luck, I was about to pass a DX station. Now if I could help it, I would steer clear from coffee from a gas station, something about it is always a little off. However, desperate times call for desperate measures and I couldn’t afford to be picky with the quality of my coffee.
Sighing heavily, I trudge into the station. The bell above the door rang cheerily, signaling my entrance. Faintly, I heard the person covering the front counter groan quietly. I stifled a laugh, I would probably have the same reaction to a customer coming in at 6:30 in the morning.
I made my way to the back of the store, straight for the beat-up coffee machine. Grabbing an insulated cup, I put it under the dispenser and waited for it to fill with the beverage. Yawning, I pick up the now full cup and trudge my way over to the checkout counter. Setting the coffee done on the counter, I start to rummage around in the apron I’m still wearing, looking for loose change.
“That’ll be 35 cents,” a male voice says softly. Pulling the change out, I finally look up to hand it over. I make eye contact with the cashier and, I kid you not, he was the prettiest boy I have ever seen. He gives me a faint smile and I realize I still haven’t given him the change.
“Oh, sorry!” I say quickly, putting my quarter and dime in his outstretched hand, our fingers barely brushing. A small electrical jolt runs through our fingertips and we make eye contact again.
“Rough night?” He asks, gesturing to my unruly hair and stained Dingo uniform.
“Ugh, yes,” I groaned, trying to comb through my hair with my fingers. “There’s a rodeo in town this weekend and apparently everyone there wants to eat at the Dingo.” He laughed a little and my heart skipped a beat. What a beautiful sound.
“You work at the Dingo?” He asked.
“Every week-night and during the day on weekends.”
“Wow, that’s a lot. You look don’t look old enough to have a full-time job. Do you go to school anywhere?” I smiled wearily, I get this question all the time.
“I’m a senior at the high school, I just work a lot to support me and my little brother.” The boy’s face brightened. What a truly beautiful sight.
“I do the same thing! I work here to help my brother Darry with the bills, only I don’t go to school anymore.” I smiled at his excitability.
“How very noble of you, brother-of-Darry.”
“It’s Sodapop, actually.” He said.
“That’s your actual name?” I asked.
“Says so on my birth certificate,” he replied.
“What a wonderful name,” I said, “very original.” His face colored red.
“Well, my pops was an original person,” he said proudly.
I told him my name.
“It suits you, except for that last name bit. Bet I could convince you to change it.” Now it was my turn to blush.
“Are you flirting with me, Sodapop?”
“What if I am?” He asked, leaning his elbows on the counter and getting closer to me. “What you gonna do about it?” My heart fluttered inside of my chest and If I could have any turned redder, I probably would have. I cleared my throat, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Oh my, you are too much.” I checked the watch on my wrist for the time. “Oh shoot, I need to go home.” I smiled at him and turned to leave, coffee in my hand.
“Wait!” He said, catching my arm. “Can I see you again?”
“Maybe,” I said, raising my coffee cup in a toast and smiling at him. “Bye, Sodapop.” I stepped out of the DX and took a sip of my drink. Disgusting.
Yet, I somehow knew that I’d be coming back for more gas station coffee.