Maybe One Day
By Saltwater Romance

Chapter 2: Eau-de-vie Vodka

She knew something was wrong. He was just standing there, looking down at her—cross-legged, barefooted, and all. But she couldn't lie and say that she was unaffected. His eyes raked over her—part adoration, part lust—and she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, shy about her bare face. But when his dimple peaked out from his smile, she could scarcely remember her own name, let alone her self-consciousness. Her heart constricted. He never looked any handsomer.

"Dance with me," he pleaded hoarsely.

She accepted his invitation.

She turned her back to him, preparing herself to move her hips in rhythm to the heavy bass and crass lyrics that he enjoyed listening to. Not that she minded—she preferred girls night out when she came home with her smoky makeup smudged and hair undone from gyrating with stranger after stranger to the hypnotic beat played by the DJ.

He shifted her to face him.

She glanced up, puzzled. He gripped her waist possessively and settled one of her hands against his chest. He held onto the other. Her heart thumped. They swayed to a sweet ballad.

"I thought you didn't like her," she murmured, referring to the singer.

He nuzzled her neck, "But you do."

He pressed his lips against the column of her throat repeatedly, and breathed, "God, you're beautiful."

She shivered in appreciation and stroked his chest, urging him to continue. He chuckled, and then dipped her.

She had been dipped once in her lifetime. It happened at her first and only western club. The man was 40 years her senior, but he moved with the grace of a twenty-something year old—she barely managed to keep up with his rapid movements. He had flipped her upside-down twice, earning applause from the spectators and dipped her at the close of the song. The alarm bells in the back of her head rang once again, and her eyes widened when that fact registered in her brain.

Mochiage didn't dance, and certainly not with her.

She sat up quickly, wincing at her pounding headache. How much did she drink last night?

She remembered the butterscotch, but nothing else besides the whiskey sound of Sumire's laughter and Koko's sly grins. What happened last night? She shrugged unbothered; she wasn't the crazy type of drunk, and she woke up in her own bed… This time. But for some reason, her body felt stiff. She then glanced at her balled up fist.

She stretched her fingers.

It was as if her hand was trying to capture Mochiage's love before it ran off with her dream.

Forgetting him would be easier if he hadn't embedded himself so deep into her mind. She stood up because she was now an adult and not a teenager fawning over her beau; she had a job to get ready for. She must have moved too quickly because her stomach churned. She sprinted to the bathroom before what little of yesterday's lunch stained the carpet. She leaned her forehead against the porcelain, still feeling queasy, but not having anything to spew up. Today was going to suck. She worked at a restaurant.

She wanted to lie back in bed and bury herself in the sheets, anything to avoid the greasy smells that would inevitably distress her hungover body. It was a tempting idea, especially when she never called in late or needed a last-minute shift cover. She deserved to be bad once in a while. But three people quit last week, so her presence was needed.

She trudged reluctantly into the shower.

The uniform was cute, depending on which employee you asked. The girls wore red and white stripped dresses with an apron and hairband. The boys wore khaki pants, white-button down shirts with a bowtie, and a soda jerk cap. It was reminiscent of the 1950's, but whenever Anna went grocery shopping in her work clothes, people often confused her with a candy striper.

"I know I already sat you… But you have the only section that can fit an eight top right now," the host ran up to her, fiddling with the hem of her dress, scared to meet Anna's eye.

She smiled in spite of her nausea, "That's fine."

But it most definitely was not.

"Thanks," the chestnut haired girl gave her a huge relieved grin before scurrying off.

Anna rubbed her forehead as she went to grab the silver. As she set the forks and knives down, she greeted her customers and took their drink orders. Bile rose up her throat.

She wasn't going to last much longer.

She raced to the host stand, "Hey Mikan?"

"Yeah?" the pretty brunette looked up at her curiously.

"I'm hungover," Anna blurted, "I need to throw up. I have the eight top's drink orders right here. Can you please get it for them and ask someone to watch my section?"

Mikan nodded vigorously.

"Thanks."

Mikan was the host everyone wanted to work with. She always made sure the rotation was correct even though the managers told her not to worry when the count was off. She knew how to greet tables, ring up orders, and run food. She also knew how to clean tables better and quicker than some of the bussers and fill up the coolers with ice. She would make drinks for the cooks when the kitchen got too hectic and wipe the bar counter and fixed the stools when the bartenders were too busy. Even better, she didn't hesitate to stay behind to help the servers clean during closing when the other hosts went home.

She chalked it up to boredom. But she was genuinely sweet and was ready to learn the different aspects of the restaurant.

She joked that the only reason why she didn't become a server was because she was scared of dropping the trays of food. In confidence, she admitted to Anna that she was terrified of working for tips; she found comfort in a steady income. Anna then told her the truth afterwards. Mikan had a magnetic personality; she would have no trouble making at least $100 a shift.

Returning from the restroom, Anna found one of the managers waiting for her. His crimson eyes reprimanded her even before he opened his mouth, "You can't ask a host to do your job."

"I'm sorry."

"Remember that if you have to use the restroom, you need to tell a manager," he chided. The restroom was outside the restaurant since it was situated within the airport. She rolled her eyes; this wasn't an elementary school playground.

"I'm sorry."

He seemed satisfied with her apologies since nothing went awry during her absence and went to kitchen, more comfortable with helping the cooks than ensuring the happiness of the customers. A frown met her, "He's been moody since he came in; he never cares about that stuff."

"Probably didn't get laid last night," Anna shrugged. Natsume was notorious for wearing his sex life on his sleeve; whistling on his way to work whenever he got some action, but biting people's heads off when he didn't.

She added in conspiratorially, "But I heard that his baby mama and him are officially done!"

"No! I thought they were trying to work out their differences," Mikan's eyes widened, "How did you find out?"

"He was talking to some of the older staff," Anna ended the conversation to check on her tables after Mikan handed her back her swipe card. Food was already delivered to her two-top, the four-top was waiting on their check, and the eight-top was waiting on their food. Everything was running smoothly.

And she had to rush to the bathroom only two more times.

At the end of the night, she took home $140.

"Are you doing anything tonight?"

She glanced up from pouring the condiments, "Nothing in particular, why?"

Mikan sat across from her, "My final was this morning, so I wanted to do something fun tonight to celebrate."

"I don't have a fake," Anna sighed, months shy from 21.

"Neither do I! But I've always wanted to go clubbing with you!" Mikan grinned, "The other girls here told me that you're wild."

"Mikan, it's a Tuesday."

"Club going up on a Tuesday," she crowed off-pitched, "Got your girl in the cut and she choosy!"

Anna stayed quiet. Well, it was the summer. Typical clubbing rules didn't apply, especially when they lived in a city that thrived in its nightlife. She thought it through some more, "Alright."

Mikan hooted and started to invite everyone else who was left at the restaurant. The bussers were all underaged. Two servers had children. The rest declined because they would rather go to the bar than dance with the under-21s. Her grin deflated with each and every rejection.

Anna consoled her, "Why don't you call up Hotaru? And I'll text Sumire. I'm sure they would love to go."

Mikan rested her head on her arms, "No. Hotaru isn't into all that. The music does nothing for her. She would rather make money than spend it. And she doesn't dance."

Like someone else that Anna knew.

"We don't need a lot of people to have fun," Anna tried to cheer up the girl, "I might have a bottle of vodka in my car if you wanted to pre-game before we go."

Mikan peered over Anna's head without responding, "Hey! What are you doing tonight?"

The muscular figure shrugged, "Going to my bed."

"Want to go out with us tonight? We're clubbing!"

He ran his fingers though his hair, "Can't. I get my kid tomorrow bright and early."

"Oh," Mikan's expression fell, "Maybe next time."

Natsume chuckled, giving her a look that spoke of promise, "Maybe."

Anna swiveled around, interrupting, "Hey, can you check my section?"

"Go home if you already cashed out," he waved his hand before disappearing into the office.

The girls stared at each other.

Apparently, someone's mood picked up.

"He's like a hormonal teenaged girl," Mikan whispered, wide-eyed, "We should run for it while we have the chance."

Anna agreed.

"Do you have spare clothes in your car?" Mikan asked.

Anna snorted, "Of course. Do you need anything?"

"Maybe some heels."

They both wore size 6.

The two ducked into the backseat of their respective cars to quickly change before other people came into the parking lot. A mini skirt and crop top went a long way. Mikan frowned down at her body after Anna tossed her a pair of neon pink stilettos, "Do you think my makeup matches my outfit?"

"Nobody will be paying attention to your face," Anna assured her, "But you look gorgeous anyway."

"Thanks," Mikan grinned, "So do you! But you always do."

Blushing, and then shyly, "Here's the bottle."

"Girl! How is it not even open?!" Mikan cried out, "Ciroc is the best!"

"Anything but vodka for me," Anna shrugged, "I stay clear of most clear liquor too if I can help it. But someone got it for me because they didn't know that."

"Crazy," Mikan shook her head and swung the bottle to her lips.

"Honestly, I think that Natsume would be killer in bed," Mikan giggled, "Though, the bussers collectively are a handsome bunch."

Anna had to agree. With the latter, not the former. Natsume was too gruff and scruffy for her taste. He always had a shadow on his face, and he mostly spoke in grunts and biting sarcasm. She preferred her men earthy and honest.

"Yeah, the newest busser has to the cutest. His arms!"

Mikan vehemently shook her head, "Natsume beats them all. No contest."

"Oh, yeah? With his red eyes?" Anna chuckled, "He's like half albino!"

"Hey! You're one to talk Miss Cotton Candy Hair!" Mikan pouted.

Anna arched her eyebrow, not missing a beat, "So the uniform comes off and the gloves come on, eh?"

Mikan immediately colored.

"Me thinks the lady doth protest too much," Anna kept teasing.

When Mikan didn't reply, Anna winked over at her, "It's okay, it'll be our little secret."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Good," drunken grin, "Because I bet that he gives really great head."

"Mikan!" Anna almost stopped the car in shock. Never did she think that those words would actually tumble out of Mikan's mouth. Sumire? For sure. Hotaru? Yeah, to shock others. Herself? Yeah, she was too old to get embarrassed anymore. But Mikan? The sweet and wholesome host? Never ever ever ever. Not even if the girl gave birth to ten kids.

"Anna," Mikan said almost patronizing, "You can't sit there and tell me you don't think about that stuff."

"Of course I do," Anna defended herself, "But I never thought that you would!"

"I worked with Akira Tonouchi almost every day before he completed his bachelor's," Mikan had that 'duh' in her tone.

"That corruptor."

"Not really. He was the only person who has ever talked to me about sex and stuff," Mikan huffed, "Everyone else treats me like a kid. Hello? I'm about to be a sophomore in college. No college kid stays an innocent… Unless they live under a rock."

She had a point.

But still…

"But Natsume?" Anna shivered. He was attractive, she supposed. He was handsome in a brooding way, and she could see how being a single father would be appealing to others—showing that he had a softer side. But why would someone pick Heathcliff over Mr. Darcy? Call her boring, but she preferred men who were outright with their intentions and wanted to woo their lovers instead of a guy who was obsessive and got off on abusing others and exacting revenge.

"Yeah. Wakako thinks that he's a dominant in bed and into spanking and all that. I think that he's the emotional type. Like you can't just leave without feeling something and vice versa," Mikan stared out the window, "I bet he's traditional, like the missionary only type and his idea of wild is letting the girl get on top."

Anna choked on her spit.

"Uh, I know this is fun for you and all," Anna began lamely, "But Natsume is our manager. I really don't want to see him and think of sex."

"How can you not? It's not like he's old and ugly! He's only a couple months older than you!"

"Uh. He's not exactly my type."

"Okay, so about that," Mikan turned, "A lot of people think that you're secretly a lesbian."

"Who?"

"A couple of the servers, but I don't think so. I think that you're just picky."

Anna laughed, "You could say that."

Mikan unbuckled her seatbelt, "I'm glad you could come out tonight. I hope you meet someone. And prove those gossipers wrong!"

"Do you need help?" Anna scurried to the passenger side to make sure that Mikan could function in heels.

Mikan waved her away, "I'm fine."

That she was. Mikan danced with anyone that came into her vicinity without stopping or removing her heels. Anna had to commend her; she, herself, always wore flat shoes to club in, even if the dress code was strict. The latest guy had his arms snaked around Mikan, but she didn't seem to care, only interested in sipping the blue drink in his hand.

The man that Anna was with was getting too handsy for her taste. After he tried to stick his hand under her bra, she walked away. He grabbed her wrist, but she had already latched onto someone else and had her back pressed against him. Fortunately, the new man had enough common sense to shoo away the creep. To thank him, she rubbed herself against his hard body. The beat got slower and more seductive and so did her hips. She brushed against his friend.

She smiled.

That didn't take long.

She repeated that motion, and she felt a groan.

He didn't push her head down or try to change her pace; he gripped her waist just right and moved in sync. His hands wandered up and down her torso, but he never tried to get overly friendly. The second song came on, and she bit her lip, knowing that she should walk away—one dance per guy. No more and no less, unless he bought her a drink. But she couldn't help it. It felt good to feel his heat radiating off of him. She felt secure, especially after he got rid of handsy.

She turned around and wrapped one leg on his backside. Not missing a beat, he grabbed her other leg and hauled her up against him. Her legs locked behind his waist, and they swayed. It felt good to get off of her feet. When she looked up, she choked for the second time that night.

"Want to get out of here…Anna?" his breath tickled her ear. She shuddered automatically in response, her body treacherous, but she felt ice in her veins.

Mochiage.

Mochiage was back in town.