Chapter Text
Chapter One
Behind the Bar
By the time I realized table twelve had been waiting twenty minutes for a side of ranch, table twenty-four wanted to send back a steak they had ordered medium-well because it was “too cooked,” and the couple at table seventeen had somehow managed to spill an entire espresso martini across their menus, I had already accepted that I was going to die at work.
It was my fourth shift.
Not my fourth Saturday. Not my fourth week. My fourth shift in total.
“Can someone please tell me where the extra cutlery is?” I asked, standing near the server station with three empty water glasses balanced against my chest and a stack of dirty plates pressing into my wrist.
Nobody answered.
Sasha rushed past me carrying two baskets of fries, one of which she was actively eating from.
“Not now,” she said through a mouthful, despite the fact that I hadn’t asked her specifically.
“I wasn’t even talking to you.”
“I still don’t know.”
Connie appeared behind her with a tray of drinks balanced at an angle that made me nervous just looking at it.
“Dry storage,” he said.
“I checked dry storage.”
“Then downstairs.”
“There’s a downstairs?”
He stared at me for half a second.
“Oh, you’re so screwed.”
“Connie,” Mikasa snapped from across the station, not even looking up from the stack of bills she was organizing. “They’re under the coffee machine.”
“They are?”
“They have been there all night.”
I turned around and crouched down, finding three full containers of rolled cutlery beneath the counter.
“You could’ve told me that ten minutes ago.”
“You didn’t ask me ten minutes ago.”
“I asked everyone.”
“I thought someone else would answer.”
Mikasa said it so seriously that I couldn’t even tell whether she was joking.
A bell rang from the kitchen.
Then it rang again.
Then someone leaned on it hard enough that the sound became one long, furious noise.
“Hands!” Marco called from the pass. “I need hands before Chef starts throwing things!”
“I’m coming,” I yelled.
“You have drinks in your hands,” Jean said as he came around the corner.
“I know.”
“And dirty plates.”
“I know.”
“And you’re going toward the kitchen.”
“I know, Jean.”
“You look like you’re about to cry.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
He grinned and took the plates from me before I could stop him.
“There she is.”
“Thank you,” I muttered.
“I didn’t say I was helping. These are in my way.”
“You’re literally carrying them to the dish pit.”
“Coincidence.”
Jean disappeared through the kitchen doors, narrowly avoiding Eren as he came storming out with an empty plate in one hand.
“I told them no parsley,” Eren said.
Nobody responded.
“I wrote no parsley.”
“Did the customer say they were allergic?” Mikasa asked.
“No.”
“Then pick it off.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Pick it off.”
Eren stared at her, looked down at the plate, then started angrily removing parsley with his fingers.
I grabbed the cutlery and hurried back into the dining room before I could get dragged into whatever was happening.
The restaurant had looked beautiful when I interviewed.
That was the trick.
In the daytime, before the lights dimmed and the music got louder, it was all warm wood, brass fixtures, dark green booths, polished glasses, and carefully arranged bottles glowing behind the bar. There were plants hanging from the ceiling and candles on every table. The menu had descriptions that used words like charred, whipped, infused, and locally sourced. During my interview, Erwin had sat across from me in one of the booths and calmly explained that the restaurant got busy on weekends.
Busy, apparently, had been the polite word for complete and total warfare.
Every table in my section was full. The bar was packed two people deep. The front entrance was crowded with guests waiting for tables, delivery drivers, and people who seemed to believe that standing directly in the host stand’s path would somehow get them seated sooner.
Historia was smiling at all of them with the expression of someone who had emotionally left her body.
I dropped the ranch at table twelve, apologized for the delay, cleared the broken glass from table seventeen, and went to check on the steak situation.
The woman at table twenty-four looked up at me with visible disappointment.
“I ordered this medium-well,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And it’s cooked all the way through.”
I looked at the steak.
She looked at me.
Her husband kept eating without getting involved.
“I can have the kitchen remake it,” I said carefully.
“I don’t want to wait.”
“Would you prefer something else instead?”
“I wanted the steak.”
I nodded slowly.
“Okay. I’ll speak to my manager.”
“What are they going to do?”
I had no idea.
I had been trained on the menu, table numbers, allergy procedures, wine service, the point-of-sale system, and approximately seventeen different side duties, but nobody had explained what to do when a customer ordered something cooked and then became upset when it arrived cooked.
“I’ll find out,” I said.
By the time I reached the service bar, there were six servers crowded around it, each waiting for drinks.
Ymir was working the guest side of the bar, pouring wine for a man who had been waving his credit card in the air for the past five minutes. She had dark hair tied back, sleeves rolled to her elbows, and the kind of expression that made customers think twice before complaining to her.
Reiner was in the service well, making drinks for the dining room.
I had met him on my first day.
He had been polishing glasses when Erwin walked me through the restaurant, wearing a black button-up shirt with the sleeves folded neatly over his forearms. Erwin introduced him as one of the bartenders and mentioned that he had been there for a little over a year.
Reiner smiled, shook my hand, and told me to let him know if I needed anything.
At the time, I thought it was the sort of thing people said to new coworkers because they had to.
Then, during my first training shift, he noticed I kept getting lost on the way to the staff bathroom and silently pointed me toward the correct hallway every single time I walked past the bar.
On my second shift, he showed me which soda gun stuck and warned me not to use the tray with the loose edge.
On my third, he handed me a glass of water before I had even realized I was thirsty.
Tonight, he looked completely unbothered by the chaos around him.
His station was covered in shakers, jiggers, citrus peels, glasses, and printed tickets, but somehow everything still seemed organized. He moved quickly without looking rushed, reaching for bottles without turning around and sliding finished drinks onto the mat in perfect order.
“Two espresso martinis for twenty-one,” he called.
Sasha reached over me, grabbed both, and vanished.
“Old fashioned for eight.”
Jean took it.
“Spicy margarita and a gin sour for fourteen.”
Mikasa collected them.
I stood at the edge of the crowd, trying to figure out how long I could wait before table twenty-four assumed I had fled the country.
Reiner looked up.
His eyes landed on me immediately.
“What do you need?”
“I have a steak problem.”
“Bar can’t fix that.”
“I know. I just needed to tell someone.”
“That bad?”
“She ordered medium-well and says it’s too cooked.”
He stopped shaking a cocktail.
For one second, he only stared at me.
Then he glanced toward the kitchen.
“Tell Levi.”
“I’m scared of Levi.”
“You should be.”
“That doesn’t help.”
Reiner poured the drink into a coupe glass, set it down, and leaned one hand against the bar.
“What table?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Did she eat any of it?”
“Two bites.”
“Does she want another one?”
“No, because she doesn’t want to wait, but she still wants steak.”
“Of course.”
“Is there a secret third option?”
“Yeah. You go find Erwin and make him deal with it.”
“Where is he?”
Reiner looked past me into the dining room.
“Currently getting yelled at by a man in a scarf.”
I followed his gaze.
Near the entrance, Erwin was speaking calmly to a red-faced customer who kept pointing toward the host stand. Historia stood beside them, still smiling with dead eyes.
“I’m going to lose my mind.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m already losing it.”
“You’re doing fine.”
“You haven’t seen my section.”
“I can see your section.”
“Then you know I’m not doing fine.”
He reached beneath the bar and placed a cold glass of water in front of me.
“I know you haven’t had water in over an hour.”
I looked down at it.
“How do you know that?”
“Because the one I gave you earlier is still sitting there.”
He nodded toward the far corner of the service bar, where a glass with my name written on a napkin beneath it had been abandoned.
“Oh.”
“Drink this one.”
“I have to find Erwin.”
“Drink half.”
“Reiner.”
He folded his arms across his chest.
It was an annoyingly effective move. He was already broad enough that the narrow space behind the bar looked smaller when he stood still, and something about the way he looked at me made it very clear he was willing to wait.
I grabbed the glass and drank half.
“All of it.”
“You said half.”
“I changed my mind.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I just did.”
I finished the water while he watched, then placed the glass back down harder than necessary.
“Happy?”
“Deeply.”
Ymir passed behind him carrying a bottle of tequila.
“He’s worse when he likes someone,” she said.
I nearly inhaled the last drop of water.
Reiner turned toward her.
“Don’t you have customers?”
“I have ears too.”
She walked away before either of us could respond.
I looked at Reiner.
He picked up the next drink ticket with suspicious focus.
“She says that to everyone,” he said.
“Does she?”
“No.”
I smiled despite myself.
A ticket printed between us.
Reiner tore it off and looked at it.
“Two vodka sodas for twenty-four.”
“That’s mine.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“You’ve rung in four rounds for them.”
“They’re having a better night than I am.”
He grabbed two highball glasses.
“Go find Erwin. I’ll have these ready when you get back.”
I hesitated.
“What?”
“I don’t know what to say to him.”
“Say exactly what you told me.”
“That makes me sound stupid.”
“The situation is stupid. You’re fine.”
Another bell rang from the kitchen.
Marco shouted something I couldn’t make out, followed by what sounded like Levi swearing.
Reiner reached across the bar and tapped the edge of my order pad with two fingers.
“Go.”
I went.
Erwin solved the steak situation in less than a minute.
He approached the table, listened to the woman’s complaint with the calm concentration of someone receiving information about an international crisis, removed the steak from the bill, offered her a complimentary dessert, and somehow left her thanking him.
I watched from beside the server station.
“How did he do that?” I asked.
Historia appeared next to me.
“He doesn’t feel fear.”
“He should teach a class.”
“He tried. Eren argued with him during it.”
“That sounds right.”
When I returned to the service bar, my vodka sodas were waiting. There was also a small bowl of fries beside them.
I looked at Reiner.
He was opening a bottle of wine for Jean.
“What’s this?”
“Fries.”
“I know they’re fries.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Are they mine?”
“No, they belong to the restaurant.”
I took one.
“They’re cold.”
“They were hot ten minutes ago.”
“You left them here for me ten minutes ago?”
“You looked hungry.”
The stupid warmth that spread through my chest was probably just the kitchen heat.
“Thank you.”
He glanced at me, and his expression softened for half a second.
“Take the drinks before the ice melts.”
“Yes, bartender.”
His mouth twitched.
“Yes, server.”
I carried the drinks away before Jean could say anything, but I caught the way he looked between us.
It was the same look Ymir had given me.
I decided to ignore both of them.
By eleven-thirty, the rush finally began to thin.
There were still guests at the bar and several tables finishing dessert, but the front entrance had cleared. The music no longer had to compete with two hundred overlapping conversations, and the kitchen bell had stopped ringing every thirty seconds.
My body slowly became aware of itself again.
My feet hurt. My hair was coming loose. There was something sticky on my forearm that I didn’t remember spilling, and I had eaten exactly seven fries since noon.
I stood at the server station entering a dessert order when Connie leaned against the counter beside me.
“Drinks after work.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I look horrible.”
“So does everyone.”
“You don’t.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“We’re going to O’Malley’s.”
“What’s O’Malley’s?”
He looked offended.
“You’ve never been?”
“I’ve worked here four days.”
“Right. You’re new.”
“I’m aware.”
“It’s the bar three streets over. They serve food until two.”
“Why don’t we just stay here?”
“Because we hate it here.”
“You work here.”
“Exactly.”
Sasha appeared on the other side of the station.
“You have to come.”
“Why?”
“New staff initiation.”
“What happens during initiation?”
“We drink.”
“That’s just going out.”
“We might ask you questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
She shrugged.
“Personal ones.”
“No.”
“You can’t say no. Historia already said you’re coming.”
I looked toward the host stand.
Historia waved at me sweetly.
Beside her, Ymir was counting cash drawers.
“I think I’m being bullied.”
“You are,” Mikasa said as she passed behind me. “You should still come.”
“You too?”
“I’m not staying long.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“She means yes,” Sasha said.
Mikasa kept walking.
Jean came out of the kitchen with a folded apron slung over his shoulder.
“Reiner’s going.”
I looked at him.
“I didn’t ask.”
“No one said you did.”
“Then why did you tell me?”
He smiled.
“No reason.”
I turned back to the computer and accidentally hit the wrong modifier three times in a row.
“I hate all of you.”
“Not yet,” Connie said. “Give it another week.”
Closing took longer than I expected.
I had assumed that once the final guests left, we would wipe a few tables, roll some cutlery, and go home.
Instead, the restaurant transformed into a different kind of workplace. Chairs were stacked. Coffee machines were cleaned. Bottles were restocked. Garnishes were thrown out. The floors were swept, then mopped, then inspected by Levi, who found invisible dirt beneath a table and made Eren redo half the dining room.
I was assigned side work with Jean, which meant I completed most of it while he offered commentary.
“You missed a fork.”
“I didn’t.”
“There’s one under table eleven.”
“You put it there.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“I watched you drop it.”
He leaned against the booth.
“That’s circumstantial.”
“Pick it up.”
“You’re getting bossy.”
“Pick up the fork, Jean.”
He picked it up.
Across the room, Reiner and Ymir were closing the bar. Reiner had untucked his shirt and rolled his sleeves higher, revealing more of his forearms than had been necessary during service.
Not that I was looking.
I was only aware of it because the bar was directly in front of me.
And because he had lifted a heavy rubber mat with one hand.
And because the muscles in his arm tightened when he did it.
I wiped the same table twice.
Jean noticed.
“Something interesting over there?”
“No.”
“You’ve been cleaning that table for five minutes.”
“It was dirty.”
“It’s reflective.”
“Go finish the cutlery.”
He looked toward the bar, then back at me.
“You know, Reiner doesn’t usually go out after Saturdays.”
I kept wiping.
“Okay.”
“He says he’s too tired.”
“Interesting.”
“But tonight, he’s going.”
“Maybe he’s less tired.”
“Maybe.”
I stopped wiping and looked at him.
“What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re very annoying.”
“I’ve been told.”
“By everyone?”
“Mostly Mikasa.”
“That makes sense.”
He took the cloth from my hand and tossed it into the cleaning bucket.
“Come on. You’re done.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, but Levi’s in the kitchen.”
That was good enough for me.
By the time we left, it was almost one in the morning.
The air outside felt cold against my face after hours inside the restaurant. Everyone gathered on the sidewalk in various stages of exhaustion, wearing jackets over black work clothes and complaining about their feet.
Sasha had changed into sneakers and was carrying a takeout container she claimed had been abandoned in the kitchen.
“It was going to be thrown out,” she said when Levi looked at it.
“It was labeled.”
“For who?”
“Me.”
She slowly hid it behind her back.
Levi stared at her.
“You can keep it.”
“Thank you, Chef.”
“Stop calling me Chef outside.”
“Yes, Chef.”
He walked away before she finished speaking.
O’Malley’s was louder than I expected for one in the morning.
The place was narrow and dim, with old framed photos covering the walls and a neon beer sign flickering above the bar. A hockey game replayed silently on the televisions. The tables were crowded with restaurant staff from other places, all recognizable by the same exhausted posture and black clothing.
Our group pushed two tables together near the back.
Connie and Sasha immediately argued over seating. Jean went to the bar with Eren. Historia sat beside Ymir, while Mikasa took the chair closest to the wall.
I hesitated at the end of the table.
There was one open chair beside Reiner.
There were technically other open chairs, but one had Connie’s jacket on it and another was being used to hold Sasha’s bag and stolen food.
Reiner glanced up at me.
“You sitting?”
“I’m considering my options.”
“You have one option.”
“I could leave.”
“You won’t.”
“You sound confident.”
He pulled the chair out with his foot.
“Sit down.”
I sat.
The table was crowded enough that our knees bumped beneath it.
I shifted slightly.
“So bossy,” I said.
“You listened.”
“Because my feet hurt.”
“Sure.”
A server came around for drink orders. Everyone began calling things out at once.
“Vodka cran.”
“Beer.”
“Tequila soda.”
“Whiskey ginger.”
“Water,” Mikasa said.
Everyone looked at her.
“I have plans tomorrow.”
“At nine in the morning?” Connie asked.
“Yes.”
“What plans?”
“None of your business.”
The server reached me.
I stared at the menu.
“What are you getting?” Reiner asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You were serving drinks all night.”
“That doesn’t mean I know what I want.”
“What do you usually drink?”
“Something sweet.”
“That explains nothing.”
“Not too sweet.”
“That explains less.”
“I like fruity things.”
He nodded toward the server.
“She’ll have a vodka lemonade with raspberry.”
I looked at him.
“Will I?”
“You will.”
“And if I hate it?”
“You won’t.”
The server wrote it down and moved on.
“You really enjoy ordering me around.”
“You were taking too long.”
“I had been looking for three seconds.”
“It felt longer.”
“Maybe after a year here, you’ve lost patience.”
“Maybe after four shifts, you’ve used all of mine.”
I smiled.
He did too.
It was different seeing him outside work.
Behind the bar, Reiner always seemed controlled. Even when everyone around him was rushing, he stayed steady. He spoke clearly, moved with purpose, and gave the impression that nothing could overwhelm him.
Here, sitting in a worn wooden chair with his collar open and his hair slightly messy from running his hands through it, he seemed younger. Softer.
Still unfairly attractive, but softer.
Our drinks arrived. I took a sip of mine.
Reiner watched me.
“Well?”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s okay?”
“It’s good.”
“I know.”
“That confidence is going to become a problem.”
“It hasn’t yet.”
Ymir leaned across the table.
“Do you two need your own room?”
“No,” I said immediately.
“Yes,” Jean said at the same time.
Reiner picked up his beer.
“Can everyone stop?”
“No,” Connie said.
“We haven’t even started,” Sasha added.
“Started what?” I asked.
“Your initiation.”
I groaned.
“I was hoping you forgot.”
Sasha rested her elbows on the table.
“First question. Who was your first crush?”
“No.”
“That’s easy.”
“I’m not answering.”
“Celebrity crush, then.”
“That’s worse.”
“How?”
“Because you’ll judge me.”
“We’ll judge you either way,” Jean said.
“Exactly.”
“Fine,” Sasha said. “Current celebrity crush.”
I shook my head.
“You people are invasive.”
“Reiner answered when he started,” Connie said.
I looked at Reiner.
He stared back at me.
“What did you say?”
“I don’t remember.”
Ymir laughed into her drink.
“He remembers.”
“Who was it?” I asked.
“No one.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You didn’t answer either.”
“I’m new. I’m allowed to ask questions.”
“That’s not how initiation works.”
I leaned closer.
“So you’re embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“Then tell me.”
He held my gaze.
There was something warm and challenging in his expression.
“You first.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Fine. Reiner Braun.”
The table went silent.
For one perfect second, his face changed completely.
His eyes widened. His mouth opened slightly. The confident expression disappeared so quickly that I nearly laughed before I could finish.
“The actor,” I added.
Connie slapped the table.
Jean doubled over.
Sasha made a sound so loud that someone from the next table turned around.
Reiner stared at me.
I grinned.
“That wasn’t funny,” he said.
“It was a little funny.”
“You knew what you were doing.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“And you’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” Ymir said.
“Shut up.”
The drinks made everyone louder.
Food arrived in baskets meant to be shared but immediately became territorial. Sasha ordered nachos and guarded them with one arm. Eren and Jean argued over whether customers who snapped their fingers should automatically be banned from restaurants. Connie told a story about accidentally serving regular Coke to a woman who had asked for Diet, then spent the next five minutes insisting he had saved her life by confessing before she drank it.
At some point, I forgot how tired I was.
Reiner and I kept talking in the small gaps between everyone else’s conversations.
He asked where I had worked before. I asked why he started bartending. He told me he had originally applied as a server but Erwin put him behind the bar after someone called in sick during his second week.
“You already knew how to bartend?” I asked.
“Barely.”
“And he just left you there?”
“Ymir was training me.”
“I trained him beautifully,” Ymir said without looking over.
“She threw a bar spoon at me.”
“You were stirring wrong.”
Reiner leaned closer so I could hear him over the table.
“She still throws things.”
“I believe it.”
“You’ll learn to duck.”
“Is that part of the training?”
“It’s the most important part.”
I smiled down at my drink.
“Today was horrible.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
“You did better than you think.”
“I forgot ranch for twenty minutes.”
“Nobody dies from delayed ranch.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“I got yelled at over a steak.”
“You got politely criticized.”
“She looked at me like I personally ruined her marriage.”
Reiner laughed.
It was the first time I had heard him properly laugh.
Not the quiet chuckle he gave Jean during service or the amused breath he made when someone said something stupid. This was louder, his head tipping back slightly and his shoulders shaking.
I liked it more than I should have.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said.
“That sounds horrible.”
“You’ll get better at ignoring people.”
“I already ignore most people.”
“Then you’re halfway there.”
The conversation around us changed. Connie started retelling something that had happened before I worked at the restaurant, involving Eren, a tray of champagne, and a wedding anniversary.
I listened for a minute, but I was more aware of Reiner beside me.
Our knees were still touching beneath the table.
Neither of us moved.
When I finally checked the time, it was almost two-thirty.
“I should go,” I said.
“You driving?” Reiner asked.
“No, I ordered a ride.”
“Is it close?”
I checked my phone.
“Seven minutes.”
“I’ll wait outside with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Everyone reacted immediately.
Jean made an exaggerated thoughtful noise.
Ymir looked at Historia.
Sasha smiled into her straw.
I pointed at all of them.
“Not a word.”
“We didn’t say anything,” Historia said sweetly.
“That’s worse.”
Reiner stood and pulled on his jacket.
“Come on.”
Outside, the street was quiet.
The cold had sharpened while we were inside. I wrapped my arms around myself and checked the map on my phone. The car was still five minutes away.
Reiner stood beside me near the entrance, close enough that our shoulders almost touched.
“You’re back tomorrow?” he asked.
“At four.”
“Sunday’s easier.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“A little.”
I groaned.
“It’s not as bad as Saturday.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“You say that a lot.”
“Because it’s true.”
A group of people walked past us, laughing loudly. One of them stumbled off the curb and grabbed his friend’s arm.
I looked back through the window at our coworkers.
Jean was watching us.
The moment I made eye contact, he turned away so dramatically that it was obvious he had been staring.
“Your friends are weird,” I said.
“They’re your friends now too.”
“I don’t know if I agreed to that.”
“You came out with us.”
“I was threatened.”
“You stayed for an hour and a half.”
“I was hungry.”
“You laughed at Connie’s story.”
“It was funny.”
“You’re one of us.”
The words were casual, but something about them settled warmly in my chest.
I had spent most of the night feeling new.
New uniform. New table numbers. New faces. New rules. New mistakes.
It was nice hearing someone say I belonged there.
Even if I had only survived four shifts.
My ride turned onto the street.
“That’s me.”
Reiner stepped closer to the curb and checked the license plate before I did.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“You say that a lot too.”
“Get used to it.”
The car stopped in front of us.
I opened the back door, then looked at him.
“Thanks for the water.”
“And the fries.”
“And the fries.”
“And the drink.”
“You didn’t pay for the drink.”
“I ordered it.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It counts a little.”
I smiled.
“Goodnight, Reiner.”
“Goodnight.”
I got into the car.
As we pulled away, I looked back through the window.
He was still standing on the sidewalk.
Watching until the car turned the corner.
⸻
Reiner
“You’re embarrassing.”
I didn’t turn around.
Ymir had stepped outside at some point, leaning against the brick wall beside the entrance with her arms folded.
“I was making sure she got in the right car.”
“She checked the plate.”
“So did I.”
“She’s an adult.”
“I’m aware.”
Ymir hummed.
Through the window, I could see the rest of the group gathering their things. Jean was saying something to Connie. Sasha was trying to put leftover nachos into a napkin.
I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets.
Ymir stayed quiet for several seconds, which was worse than if she had kept talking.
“What?” I finally asked.
“She’s been here four days.”
“I know.”
“You gave her fries during the rush.”
“She hadn’t eaten.”
“You made her drink water.”
“She was dehydrated.”
“You made her vodka sodas before she got back to the bar.”
“She had already rung them in.”
“You memorized her table numbers.”
“I memorize everyone’s table numbers.”
“No, you don’t.”
I looked at her.
Ymir smiled.
It wasn’t a kind smile.
“You also came out tonight.”
“So?”
“You hate coming here after Saturdays.”
“I don’t hate it.”
“Last week you said you’d rather lie down in traffic.”
“I was tired.”
“You’re tired tonight.”
I looked down the street where her car had disappeared.
The restaurant had been busy enough that I hadn’t had time to think about much during service, but I had still noticed her.
I noticed every time she came toward the bar.
Every time she pushed a loose piece of hair behind her ear.
Every time she tried to carry more than she should have.
Every time she looked overwhelmed, then took a breath and walked back into her section anyway.
I noticed when she smiled at me.
I noticed when she laughed.
I definitely noticed when she said my name at the table and let me believe, for one humiliating second, that she meant me.
Ymir pushed away from the wall.
“You’re screwed.”
“I’m not.”
“She flirted with you all night.”
“She flirts with everyone.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
I stared at her.
Ymir opened the door.
Before she went back inside, she glanced over her shoulder.
“You don’t either.”
The door closed behind her.
I stood alone on the sidewalk for another minute.
Then I pulled out my phone.
There was a new message in the staff group chat.
Connie: new girl survived initiation
Sasha: barely
Jean: reiner seemed happy
Reiner: shut up
A typing bubble appeared.
Then a new message came through from her.
You: thanks again for waiting with me :)
I read it twice.
Then I typed a response.
Deleted it.
Typed another one.
Deleted that too.
Finally, I sent the simplest thing I could manage.
Reiner: anytime
The typing bubble appeared again.
You: see you tomorrow bartender
I smiled at my phone like an idiot.
Ymir was right.
I was screwed.