This shift had been tough on Clarke. She'd had about four fifty-something creeps hit on her. It hadn't been as bad as yesterday though when a five year old boy had grabbed her boob when she had been handing him his ice cream sundae. Worst part? The boy's dad had laughed and told the kid that he'd done a great job. He didn't even make his son apologise and Clarke had walked off feeling mortified and disgusted.
But today, today had been so much worse.
She'd been feeling like absolute crap this entire morning. Her temperature had been high and she had felt nauseous and dizzy all day. But Lincoln had asked her to take the extra shift. She didn't want to let him down, also the money would be really great. She wanted to go out with her Raven on Sunday. Even if her mum did make a decent wage she still wouldn't lend Clarke vast amounts of money. Clarke understood, no one would be there to pay for everything once she was out in the real world. She lived with her mum, Abby, but she was away somewhere in Europe for a week giving a seminar about a ground breaking discovery to do with the treatment of arthritis. It was a pretty big deal. She'd worked almost non stop since Clarke's dad had been killed. But it had paid off. She was a professor at the local university. Clarke was currently attending, but it was summer break so she was back home for a while. That's why she was working at her friend's crappy cafe. Of course she would never say that to his face, but it was true. The walls were a strange olive green, the chairs and tables were old and unstable and the kitchen had a really weird foosty smell.
Thankfully today's shift was over she was just about to walk away from the cash register and flip the dirty sign that hung on the door to show everyone that they were closed. On her way to the door she picked up the tips jar and smiled. Not bad. Not bad at all. Just as she was setting the jar down she heard the familiar sound of the bells that hung on the door clanging. Ugh. She set the tips jar down.
"I'm sorry,we're just-" But she was cut short as she turned around. The guy standing at the door was... Gorgeous. He was tall, messy brown hair, a devilish grin and yeah, he definitely worked out.
"Are you closing? Surely you can spare five minutes?" He said it with the same charming smile he had worn when he entered the cafe.
Clarke's hands fumbled to pick up a menu and her notepad. "I-. ah-. No, no not yet." She added a smile, it wasn't entirely fake. She felt like crap but she could hold out for another fifteen minutes or so.
"Brilliant." He grinned at her and Clarke's stomach did little flips. No bad. Stop. She cursed herself internally.
"Take a seat over there, I've not cleared those ones." She gestured to the back half of the cafe where the tables were littered with dirty coffee cups and crumb covered plates.
"With pleasure princess." He offered her a fake bow and Clarke had to resist the urge to punch him square in the jaw. She hated when people acted like condescending asshats. Especially when they were, ah, aesthetically pleasing.
She dumped the menu on the table as he sat down, "What can I get you?" Clarke asked, her voice tight, she was running out of patience.
He leaned forward on and put his elbows on the table. "I'll take a cup of coffee and let's see-"
he cut himself off to scan the menu. Clarke used this valuable time to have a closer look at him. He definitely hot, she had to admit that. A jerk, but a hot one. Still looks didn't excuse his behaviour. Neither did his messy hair, or his dark brown eyes, or that cute little dusting of freckles, or-
"Hellooo?" Clarke shook herself out of the daze she was in and swatted the guy's waving hand out of her face.
He feigned hurt, "You're feisty"
Clarke glared at him. "Listen here. I will serve you you're food. But if you speak to me like that one more time so help me I will throw you right out. I will not be kicked around by some a-hole who thinks he runs the place."
He held his hands up in defense, "Okay, okay calm down princess."
She stared him down and straightened up, regaining her composure. She shouldn't have snapped at him. That was exactly what he wanted."What would you like with the coffee?" She asked, her voice much softer this time.
"I'll take a tuna sandwich with that coffee. Thank you." He handed her the menu and she glared at him one last time before heading into the kitchen.
She grabbed two slices of bread and began furiously spreading them with butter. How dare he saunter in here, preventing her from getting home, I mean, sure she had said that he could stay but she wanted to remain angry at him.
No, Clarke stop. Calm. She spread the tuna mayo mix on the sandwich and poured his coffee. Her hands closed around the mug of scalding liquid and grabbed the plate. The sandwich had been made kinda lazily, but oh well she wanted home.
Clarke started to make her way out the kitchen, trying to prevent the coffee from spilling everywhere and burning her.
A sudden wave of nausea hit her and the room began to spin. Shit. The walls went in and out of focus, the plate slipped out her hand and shattered into a hundred pieces on the floor. Soon everything was going dark. The ground came whooshing towards her and she registered a sharp pain, but she wasn't sure what it was. Everything seemed really ... fuzzy?
The last thing she saw was an attractive guy with a cute smattering of freckles cursing and fumbling around over her.