"Andy?" I echoed. "Short for Andrew?"
"Yeah," he smiled. His smile was very charming. I must've thought that before. "Short for Andrew."
"OK, well…Andrew, it's nice to meet you. I hope you like our food."
"And Jude? Short for Judith?"
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, short for Judith."
"You're the waitress here?" he questioned, shoving his hands into his black-jean pockets.
I shook my head. "No, not really…w-we don't have that many staff people so our chefs often switch with each other, like, taking turns in the roles here; some as waiters and waitresses, but they're still chefs, too. I hope it doesn't last this way for very long…"
He looked surprised for a moment. "So, you're a chef here?"
The shock along his features made me smile for some reason. Did I not look chef material? "Yes, actually. I'm the head chef."
With a slow nod, he said, "I'm impressed."
"It is impressive." Smirking, I turned around once again to go into the kitchen and give my team some commands. Looking over my shoulder as I placed my hand on the door, I said, "I'll come back and take orders if you guys want any dessert."
"All right." He sighed with a smile. "See you."
A strange, warm feeling began to bubble up inside me as I walked to Sean's station and handed him the notepad. I was thinking of Andrew and his pleasant smile, wondering about how I was actually interested in the thought of seeing him – just to take orders from him, but the small talk was fun. It made me forget about everything that was going on.
"You feeling better?" Sean's voice abruptly tore through my contemplation. "What are you smiling about?"
"Huh? Yeah," I shook my head but nodded just as quickly. "I'm feeling better."
"You must've met the celebrities." Sean teased. "They're pretty, aren't they?"
Laughing, I lightly slapped his shoulder, narrowing my eyes. "You're cute."
"At least you're not thinking about that douchebag anymore."
His words snapped sudden realization into me. Brad, huh…
"Aw, come on, Jude. Don't make that face." Sean frowned down at me, his green eyes revealing the sadness he felt about the topic. "Brad was a kid. He didn't deserve you and you most certainly didn't deserve him."
It was silent for a moment. I looked away, pressing my lips together, but Sean's words resonated in my head; it wasn't his phrases that cheered me up, rather, it was his Irish accent. After a second or two, I found myself chuckling.
"Yeah, I guess." I smiled. "I can go for my break now, right?"
"I think so. Don't forget to wash your face this time." He poked my forehead, Itachi style.
"Jeez, I can't believe I went out there looking like this." Groaning, I glanced out from the counter. "Looks like the front door's free. If Matthew needs me to do anything, send Lauren out to get me if you're too busy."
"Will do."
It was strange how the front door was packed with fans and now it's abruptly empty. It made me wonder about the kind of fan base that Andrew's band led – they must've been an understanding bunch, unlike the stories I heard about Justin Bieber or One Direction fans.
I took off my apron and hastily made my way to the bathroom, washing off the makeup surrounding my eyes and making sure I don't actually remove the mascara and eyeliner that Sophia applied. Afterwards, I waved eagerly at everyone in the kitchen, shouting out to them that I'd be back in ten minutes.
As I walked through the restaurant to the door, I looked around at the people that I served. Most of them were eating in silence while others had short conversations. My eyes traveled to where Andrew and his band sat, and I smiled widely at the sight; they were a bit louder than the rest, but they were laughing and having a good time as they waited for their order, which is what mattered.
I wrapped my arms around myself as I stood in front of the restaurant, deeply inhaling the cold, fresh air. Trying to focus on myself and surroundings—my heartbeat, the sound of my breath, the silence of the night—proved to be somewhat difficult with such a loud mind. There were images of Brad still lingering in the corners of my brain – why was he still present, I had no idea. But just as quickly, he was replaced with an image of Daphne.
Daphne was a lot more to worry about; the music she listened to affected her on levels she didn't understand. The people she surrounded herself with affected her even more. I wanted to help, but she felt so far away, despite the fact that I had only seen her hours ago.
"Hey there,"
A man's voice startled me and I slightly jumped with a low gasp. Turning around quickly, I saw Andrew, bending over with his arm on his stomach as he laughed, as if he had heard the funniest joke ever.
"That must've been hilarious to you, huh?" I asked, unable to stop myself from smiling and snickering with him.
He nodded, still laughing.
"Good to know that my terror amuses you."
"It's just so cute," he said, striding to my side while running a hand through his hair again. "You get scared from the littlest things."
"I wasn't scared," I looked ahead of me with a pout, crossing my arms. "It was just so quiet out here and you just popped out of nowhere. How else was I supposed to react?"
"The way a normal person would?" he beamed playfully. "By turning around and returning the greeting?"
"Pfft, whatever. I wasn't scared."
I can't stop smiling. My cheeks are actually starting to hurt.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked casually, pulling a cigarette packet out of his pocket and lighting up a fag.
Glancing at him for a brief moment—absolutely not judging him—I shrugged. "Taking a break from all the noise for a bit, I guess. The only time I can actually reflect on my life is when I go to church."
"Hmm," he took a quick sip, blowing out the smoke slowly. If I opened my mouth and blew out from my own breath, it would look the same from how cold it was. "I can understand that. It gets crazy on tour or when we're working on a video, or an album, too."
"That's completely different though." I chuckled. "You have to deal with a lot more than I do."
He snickered as well. "Yeah, and as a band, each of us wants some quiet time; it usually happens in the tour bus and we all agree to keep to ourselves for a bit. But that's completely short-lived since, well, we're noisy guys and can't keep to ourselves for that long."
"That's also a good thing," I didn't want to be rude and tell him how stressful that must've been; people deal with alone time differently, I supposed, and Andrew must've grown used to being around his bandmates. "Sometimes, too quiet and too alone can also be bad, I guess."
"Exactly, what with overthinking brings about."
"Mhm."
He had a very attractive voice, too, despite it being extremely scratchy and rough. That was probably because he smokes. I wonder what position does he play in the band…?
The thought brought up the subject. "You didn't tell me what kind of music you guys play?"
He hummed thoughtfully for a second, looking up at the night sky as he opened his mouth to speak. The smoke, as much as I hated to admit it, looked nice against the street and moon light.
Gosh, he is so tall. As tall as Cole, I think.
"Rock? Heavy metal? Along those lines, you could say." He looked down at me and his piercing gaze stunned me a little bit. Daphne liked that kind of music. "But if you've never heard of us or even recognize me, I could guess that you don't listen to that kind of stuff."
He almost sounded mocking. "No, I don't." I said, as-a-matter-of-factly.
"Should I take a guess?"
"Go ahead."
"Well, you're blonde and you wear a lot of pink," I didn't like what he was saying; you couldn't exactly guess what someone listens to because of the way they looked like, after all. "I'm guessing a lot of pop, right?"
Although he wasn't wrong, I was still somewhat offended. "A little bit, sure."
Chuckling, he blew out the smoke loudly. "That was easy."
I rolled my eyes, trying to defend myself. "I said a little bit, meaning, I listen to other stuff, too."
"Oh? Like rap?"
Forcing out a laugh, I put my hands in my coat's pocket. "A little bit of that, too, but mostly classical stuff, like classic rock."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"I grew up on Vivaldi and Bach mostly, with everyone else from the lot, of course."
"Mozart?"
"Of course Mozart was part of it." I looked up at him again. He glanced down to meet my gaze from time to time, but mostly kept his eyes at the sky, or at the road and cars in front of us. "As for rock…there wasn't much, but my dad was really into Guns n' Roses and The Eagles. My mom didn't much care for that stuff; the closest thing she'd listen to when it came to rock was The Beatles."
Andrew laughed. "That explains your name then?"
"Yeah, actually," I smiled in return. "They named me after a Beatles song. Wonderful, right?"
"That's pretty cool," Andrew grinned. "It's nice being named after a song – especially a Beatles song."
"Not always. Whenever people meet me, they automatically start singing 'Hey Jude', as if they were the first ones to do it to me."
It made him laugh again. I enjoyed hearing his laughter; heck, I never considered myself someone funny at all, but it was nice seeing him laugh at the mediocre things I was saying.
Then, he began to sing 'Hey Jude' as well. I groaned sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him. "You just had to do that?"
"You know I had to. And I was kidding, by the way."
"Huh?"
"I wouldn't judge you like that just because you wear pink and have blonde hair," he explained roughly, breaking in between the words briefly. "It's not right."
"Good. Assuming is always bad, you know."
He chuckled heartily at the memory of yesterday. "I've learned my lesson."
I found comfort in the silence that followed after our words and giggles fell off the grid; it wasn't an awkward silence this time, it was simply the both of us enjoying the little time we had together. The thought continued in my head for some time, reminding me of the fact that I had to go back in the restaurant and prepare some food, take some orders and so on and so forth.
Suddenly, a group of three girls walked up to us, with broad smiles on their faces.
"Andy! Andy Biersack!" one of the females said. It was the most adorable thing ever, how happy his presence made them.
"Hey!" Andrew replied, greeting them with a wide smile of his own.
"Can we please take a picture with you?" another one asked. "We love you!"
"Of course," he grinned, bringing his arms around them as one of them stood ahead of them to take the picture.
"I can do it," I abruptly said. "Give it here."
"Aww," Andrew teased. "Thanks."
"Sure." I rolled my eyes, counting to three and taking the picture.
"Thank you so much!" the girls said, to me and to Andrew, and walked away, giggling loudly as they looked at the image. "Love you, Andy!"
"See you!" Andrew replied before looking to me. "That was really nice of you. You didn't have to."
"Yeah, I did," I shrugged. "Couldn't have one of them not in the picture. She might've regretted it later and blamed her friends."
"True." He chuckled, and it became silent again. He pulled out another cigarette, smoking it the next minute.
With a sigh, I walked forward, studying my face on the tinted car window in front of us.
Andrew didn't move from his position; if he had, I would've heard his footsteps as he walked away. But he stayed behind me, sucking on his cigarette, and it awakened a strange curiosity within me. Maybe it was the nice weather that made him stay – it didn't have much to do with me; why would it?
I fixed my lipstick, mindlessly staring at my reflection.
Just then, the lights from the inside of the car turned on and a man glanced up at me, raising a confused brow. I stiffened and quickly turned around, scuttling to Andrew's side as my cheeks burned in embarrassment.
"Oh my God," I whisper-shouted, shutting my eyes and putting my hands above my mouth. I can't believe I'm laughing about this!
"What's wrong?" Andrew asked.
"There was a guy in the car…and I was like, fixing my makeup and stuff right beside him."
Andrew started to laugh once again.
"I swear," I continued, feeling content as I looked up at the black haired man. "I was probably like, looking straight at him! It was so embarrassing! Stop laughing, he's probably looking at us!"
"You're laughing!" Andrew pointed out. "I can't stop laughing until you do!"
"Shh!" I can't stop. "Stop laughing!" My cheeks hurt. "Andrew!"
"Why'd you just call me Andrew?" he asked, but he wasn't angry about it. On the contrary; he was still laughing, just as much as I was, as he threw away the leftovers of his cigarette.
"I don't know; it just came out that way."
"Call me Andy."
"OK, um," I shook my head as I walked by him, my smile remaining. "I think it's time for us to go back inside, Andy. Your food may be ready."
"Right," he beamed in return, following me towards the entrance. "Will you be making dessert for us, head chef?"
I felt my cheeks warm up at the mention of the title. "Sure. What would you like?"
This feels…nice. But I still can't remember where I had originally heard his name!
