Steve approached the corner table, surprised to see only one person sitting there, though there were enough books and papers spread over the table for at least four people. The table's sole occupant was typing at the laptop and she was so petite that he could barely see the top of her dark brown hair over it. He couldn't tell if she was ignoring him or just hadn't noticed him, but he went into his spiel anyway.
"Good evening," he said, his friendliest smile on his face. "My name is Steve, I'll be your waiter tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?" He moved closer to see her face.
A pair of large, deep blue eyes flick up at him from behind a pair of rectangular glasses then went back to looking at the screen. "Yes, I'd like a pitcher of sangria, please."
I guess she is expecting someone. "Sure. Would you like to wait for your friends before you-"
"No, I'm not waiting for my friends," she cut in impatiently. "The pitcher is for me." Under her breath, she muttered, "This paper isn't going to write itself, Jesus Christ…"
Steve smiled sympathetically. "Deadline?" His college days were a few years behind him but he remembered well the all-nighters.
"Yep, getting closer by the minute," she muttered. She flicked her eyes back up at him. "In case you're wondering, I'm not a lush or anything. See, everything's riding on this paper and I need to relax or I'll never get it done."
That makes sense. She won't drink the whole pitcher anyway – a tiny little thing like her probably can't handle more than half a glass at most. "I understand. Did you want to order dinner now?"
She scrunched her admittedly adorable nose in concentration. "Ask me again in an hour, hopefully I've made headway by then."
"Sure thing."
Steve was about to go place her drink order when she looked up at him again. "Darcy."
He looked at her, confused. "I'm sorry?"
She grinned slightly. "My name's Darcy. I'm going to be here a while, you might as well call me by my name."
He grinned back. "Right. I'll be back soon with that pitcher, Darcy."
Her grin widened then she went back to her paper.
True to his word, Steve didn't approach her for an hour after he brought over a pitcher of sangria and a wine glass. Darcy was nursing her second glass as she read what she'd already written when he came over.
"Did you make any progress?" he asked, smiling.
She looked up at him. "Some. I'll have to edit it in the morning, but that's the easy part."
"It never was for me, but to each their own, I guess. Can I get you anything?"
"I'd kill for a burger."
Steve chuckled. "No killing necessary, I promise. What kind would you like?"
Darcy looked over the menu then back up at him. "Whichever one is your favorite."
He grinned at her. "You're putting an awful lot of trust in a guy you just met, Darcy."
She smirked. "Please, you're an overgrown Boy Scout if I ever saw one." A pause. "Um, that's a compliment, by the way. I know it doesn't sound like one. Calling a grown man a Boy Scout makes him sound boring but you're not. You're solid," her eyes drifted towards his chest, his muscles outlined by the slightly too small work shirt, then she dragged her eyes back up to his, "um, and I can tell you're dependable. Like a rock." She nodded. "Or The Rock, maybe, I'm not sure. Anyway, you wouldn't steer a girl wrong."
"Well, thank you. I just hope you're still thanking me when you see what I got you."
As he walked back to the kitchen, he could swear he heard her mutter, "The person I'm thanking is God for giving you an ass like that. Ugh, enough sangria, he must think I'm a rambling idiot."
Nope, just adorable, Steve thought, grinning all the way to the kitchen.
It was the end of his shift and he was just bringing her a piece of cheesecake when she crowed, albeit quietly, with delight.
"Yes! Done!" She saved her work then beamed up at him. "And you brought me sugar! Just what I needed."
Steve chuckled as he set the plate beside her laptop. "I thought you could use a little reward for all your hard work. I have your check here too. I'm done for the night, you can take this to the cashier at the front when you're ready."
"You're leaving?" she asked, surprised, then winced. "Right, sorry, you've probably got a wife and kids waiting for you at home."
He grinned. "Actually, I'm a bachelor. The only things I have waiting for me at home are Netflix and leftovers."
Darcy smiled nervously. "Um, how about sangria and half a slice of cheesecake?"
"You know, that sounds like a much better offer." He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, smiling a bit. "So, tell me about yourself, Darcy."