This came from a submission that I made on tumblr to imaginefrederickchilton.

I hope you like it. I may do a chapter from the waitresses point of view later I haven't decided yet.

Every Thursday Frederick Chilton made his way to the little old diner that was a bit out of his way from home. The vintage 1950s theme seemed to be pulled right out of an old photograph. Coca-Cola posters and pictures of vintage cars lined the walls. Elvis played over the speaker and the bright ceiling lights caused the small flecks of glitter in the black and white tile to sparkle. The waitresses were forced to dress the part of a '50s waitress. Pastel dresses that fit a bit too tight had been a hit with the truckers and older gentlemen that frequented the little hole in the wall off the main highway.

The atmosphere always held a welcoming and bubbly atmosphere. It was a place that could be considered "cute" more than realistic. It was a business keeping its head just above the water by using the out of town crowd's love for cute places and cashing in on historical fiction.

It wasn't the vintage atmosphere that brought him to this little diner every night or the slightly overcooked food. It was for the cute brunette waitress that had so nicely slipped him free cups of coffee after long, stressful nights at the hospital.

Carolyn was her name, though most everyone in the diner had referred to her as "Lynnie" or the boring "Baby" by the older gentlemen that frequented the dining establishment.

He'd noticed the waitress off and on when he'd come in. At first, he'd catch himself staring at the way her pale yellow uniform stopped at her mid-thigh and then later he found himself giving her small smiles after he watched her and another waitress clumsily collide which had caused sweet tea to spill all over the floor and on her uniform.

There was something that he found a bit endearing about her. She seemed genuine. He'd catch her smiling and laughing at whatever the other waitresses were talking about. On one occasion, he watched happily as she showed off her "mad" dancing skills to Ritchie Valen's La Bamba while revealing that she had no knowledge of the Spanish language at all with every word she sang that wasn't "la bamba" or "arriba".

Her La Bamba dance had been his favorite memory of her and it had made him finally realize that he had developed a crush on the working class girl in the yellow dress. He'd wanted to learn everything about her. He wanted to teach her how to correctly dance to the La Bamba and how to pronounce the lyrics that she had previously butchered.

He wanted to teach her the dance, but his cane stopped that dream, along with the fact that she probably did not give him a second thought after she made sure that he was satisfied with his meal. He resigned himself to believe that their conversations were just simple small talk to pass the time for the both of them. It was just simply for politeness.

He felt a smile tug at his lips as he watched her sashay towards him with the pot of coffee for his second cup of coffee. He noticed the sparkle in her brown eyes as her smile greeted him. He quickly stole a detailed glance at her face as she poured his cup of coffee into his cup. A scar lay hidden above her left eye, the outline from where it had been stitched were faint as well as a small scar that lay just under her bottom lip.

"I had to run out here before my boss catches me," she informed him with a hushed voice as she looked over to where the aging owner sat on his butt and watched everyone else work, "He's out for a cigarette so I have just enough time to check up on my favorite customer."

He smiled at her as he watched her wink at him. He wanted to ask her out. He needed to take the plunge. It was like that saying about how it only took a bit of insane courage. He could do it. The words were on the tip of his tongue. He could ask her to dinner and a movie, to dinner and a drink, to dinner and a dance, to Spanish dance lessons, or even just for a drive around town.

Baltimore could be a nice scene if he had the right company beside him to take in that scenery.

"I bet you say that to all of your customers," he heard himself answer in a teasing tone.

He was actually flirting with her.

"Nope. Just you, Doctor."

The way she called him doctor sent prickly little chills up the length of his arms. She was actually flirting with him. He couldn't believe it! She was actually flirting back despite his cane.

"Dinner was delicious as always," he informed her, though it was a bit of a stretch of the truth. He had better dinner elsewhere.

"I'm glad you took my advice and stopped eating the trash that you were ordering," she whispered under her breath. He didn't notice how she edged just a bit closer to him and leaned a bit lower to speak to him.

He smiled up at her sparkling eyes as he recalled the night she had suggested that switch meals. She had told him that they had missed him and had told him that everyone thought that he had died. He remembered how her eyes instantly fell to his cane and she became embarrassed. He had let the redness flush her cheeks before he joked about it to her. It had been the first time that he had been able to talk about the incident without that initial surge of fear when people asked about his condition.

"Well I needed a change anyways," he said as he patted at his stomach where his scars remained as constant reminders.

He didn't notice the quick solemn emotion cross her face as he patted his full stomach. He missed how she quickly covered that sudden sadness with a smile as he looked back up at her.

"Lynnie," Frederick heard the owner demand.

"Well," she stated with a sigh, "I'm being summoned. I wish we could have talked longer, Doctor."

He watched as she turned away from him. The dress of her skirt swished with her turn as she sashayed away from her. He couldn't help but allow his eyes to study her while she wasn't watching.

"Oh," he heard her announce as she turned back to him, he quickly jerked his attention back to her eyes, "Are you going to need a to go box?"

Frederick looked towards the pie selection and said with a smirk, "A slice of lemon would be great, Carolyn," he chuckled and patted his stomach, "Though I really don't need it."

"Oh come on, Doctor," she teased, "A man with a little belly is the most attractive thing a man can have."

She seemed to be flirting with him, but he couldn't get over the what ifs of the situation. What if she was just being nice? What if she was just doing it for the big tip he left her?

It wasn't long until she came sashaying back to him. He could see how red her cheeks were as if something had happened to her in the short time that she had left his company.

"Here ya go," she said quickly as she handed the box to him and quickly turned away from him as if she were running for her life from a madman.

He looked down at the Styrofoam box that his waitress had quickly handed him. The words "Open" looked back at him in blue ink and curly, feminine script. He could hear the cackles of the other waitresses and he could feel the kitchen staff looking at him to see what his next move would be.

He smiled as he opened the box to see a small note that she had left at the top of the box. The small note made his heart stop momentarily. It seemed as if all of his fears had disappeared in that moment as her words registered into his mind.

Small talk is for the 1950s. Dinner and a show at the jazz club off Main Saturday?

Call me. 443-555-6610

Your Favorite Waitress, Carolyn.

He could hear the screeches of the other waitresses as he removed his cell phone from his jacket pocket and quickly saved her number. It seemed as if his lonely streak was coming to an end and his life could only get better.

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