Burn
"Augh, shit," Maka curses, promptly dropping the hot tray to the floor. Inspecting her scorched finger, she sees the top half of her palm and index finger blooming red. "Dammit."
"What happened, kitten?" Blair asks coming up behind. "Oh, that looks bad. Come, we'll run some cool water over it before we patch you up. I can't afford to lose my best maid at the start of peak season."
Maka half-heartedly glares at her boss as she's lead over to the sinks and mutters, "Why am I not surprised you care more about making money than my well-being?"
Blair throws a feline grin over her shoulder as she flips the faucet on. Without saying a word, she sticks Maka hand under the cold water, causing Maka to hiss at the sting, but it isn't so bad compared to when she had burnt herself. The other girls at the maid cafe had taken it upon themselves to do the cooking for patrons since their chef had up and quit the other day and Blair had yet to hire someone new, much to everyone's dismay. Maka likes to think the woman is biding her time because she wants to save on paying someone else, but Blair has promised this isn't the case. Apparently, no one has applied yet.
"There," Blair says patting Maka's wrist after she finishes bandaging her up. "Good as new."
"Thanks," Maka tells her.
While the bandaging isn't the best (loose strips are still hanging out on the side) it'll do for the time being. At least until she gets home later.
"Maka," comes Liz's voice from the entrance to the kitchen, "your little boy toy is here. I think he wants you to take care of him 'cause he hasn't said a single word to me since he sat down."
"Tell him I'm busy," Maka scowls.
"I did, but he still isn't talking to me."
"Then let him leave on his own," she sniffs, going back to where she had dropped the tray and clean up. "Like I care if he leaves on an empty stomach."
She manages to scoop up a handful of the ruined cake before a pair of strong hands lift her up. The smell of honeyed perfume invading her nostrils and the glimpse of dark, purple hair tells her who it is, and she sighs. Of course Blair would refuse to allow her to ignore a customer. Even when the customer is the douchiest guy in the world.
"Now, now, kitten," Blair mewls. "That isn't how we treat our paying customers."
"But it's Soul," she hisses his name. "He isn't a real customer, and you know it."
"He pays. He's a real customer." Blair sets her on her feet, smoothes out the black maid uniform, adjusts the ribbons in her pigtails, and smacks her butt. "Now get out there and put on that award-winning smile and please your master!"
Heat blossoms over Maka's cheeks as she stares wide-eyed at Blair before harrumphing out of the kitchen and into the main dining room. If she didn't need this job to help pay for her college tuition and living expenses, she would have quit long ago when Evans first showed up at the maid cafe. It was enough to be working such a demeaning , minimum wage job in Death City, but with him knowing about her special secret, it made things particularly awkward. Especially when he shows up at the cafe, unannounced, or saunters around with her at school with the looming threat of telling everyone where she works.
Her life is hard enough trying to maintain her high grades and getting herself through college without her papa's help. She doesn't need Evans fucking everything up.
Plastering the sweetest smile she can muster, Maka says in a too perky voice, "Good afternoon, Master. How may I help you today?"
Those deep burgundy eyes of Soul's turn to her, and she hates the way her stomach tightens and backflips under their gaze. He's a dumb, pretentious dick who was born with a gold spoon in his mouth, she reminds herself. There isn't anything cute or endearing about him.
The lopsided smile he seems to always save for her begs to differ, though.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," he smirks and stretches out in his chair, resting his feet on top of the other as they peek out from under the table. "I prefer my favorite maid be the one to service me instead of her co-workers."
"How you manage to make the word service sound perverted, I'll never know," she says maintaining the sweet voice and smile. "Did you want anything to eat, Master?"
"What about a Cutesy-Cutesy Rice Omelette?" he says with a semi-straight face.
"Of course! Coming right-"
"And how about a date with me on Friday?" he tags on.
A strangled sound comes from her throat and her blush deepens, but she tries not to ruin the facade of being a cute maid.
"I think the omelette will do for now," she tells him, turning on her heels to head back into the kitchen.
Before she can get far, though, Soul gently grasps her elbow and spins her back his way. She's ready to reprimand him for touching her, but the softness in his eyes as he stares at her hand halts her from doing so. Long gone is the smug boy she's come to know over the months and has been replaced with someone who seems to be the complete opposite. She can't put her finger on what caused the sudden change, but it is interesting.
As soon as the magic appeared, he gives her his signature smirk and says, "I'll also take tea. Thanks."
"Coming right up, Master."
Maka heads to the back of the kitchen to put Soul's order in, muttering under her breath how stupid and annoying white haired boys are as she works. It's ridiculous how her body reacts to his smug face, how the timbre of his voice sets goosebumps to prick her skin; utterly and madly ridiculous because she hates the boy. He's smug, arrogant, pretentious. There isn't a redeeming quality about him as far as she can tell. Soul Evans is just another trust fund kid who's never had to work a day in his life, and she doesn't understand how he still manages to make her flustered and warm.
"He's an idiot," she tells herself before going back into the dining room and jumping back into her role as a maid.
"Here you are, Master!" Maka announces. She sets the plate of food in front of Soul followed by his tea and grabs the bottle of sauce she had brought with her. "Would you like me to write something on your omelette today, Master?"
Soul seems to mull it over before saying, "Surprise me."
"Are you sure?"
Out of everyone who comes to the cafe every day, he should know better than to give her such free reign considering the last time he said surprise me she had written the word dumbass in Japanese on his omelette.
"I trust you," he says simply.
Inwardly shrugging, she bides her time with opening the sauce bottle trying to decide the correct words to write on top of his meal. Maybe something along the lines of pervert or pain in the ass or bag of dicks will suffice. He hasn't been particularly mean to her lately - either at work or school - but a part of her does take enjoyment in being petty for his past actions. She's settled on the perfect word when Soul's voice breaks through her thoughts. A soft, kind voice low enough for only her to hear, and it sets her heart to stumble a beat.
"What happened to your hand?"
Green eyes flit over him as she hesitates before going to her bandaged hand. "I burned myself on a tray I was taking out of the oven."
The softness in her voice surprises her. There isn't a hint of malice in it which Soul notices if the slight rise of his brows is anything to go by.
"Why were you taking something out of the oven? Isn't that what the cook is for?"
"He quit a couple days ago, and Blair hasn't found a replacement yet."
"I see," he simply says.
She holds his gaze for another second or two before going back to the task at hand. In the end, she doesn't feel like mean words suit him in the present matter so she settles on writing kindness in Japanese instead.
"Enjoy your meal, Master," she smiles.
Soul looks down at his omelette, and she sees the ghost of a smile float across his lips. "Cool. I thought today you'd write something inappropriate and mean."
Her brows knit together in confusion. "You can read Japanese?"
He shrugs before picking up his fork. "I've been learning it if that's what you mean."
"I see," she nods.
Something warm and bright flickers in her chest at the idea of Soul Evans bothering to learn anything that isn't a required part of his major. From the few times she's seen him with Black*Star, he always seemed like the kind of kid who didn't bother to go above and beyond, settling for the bare minimum as it is, and was the epitome of a stoner kid. But something about him learning Japanese - a difficult language in its own right - speaks to her. It's cute how he decided to pick up on the language now, and a sense of pride sparks within at her at being the person behind it.
Before she can be overwhelmed with it, though, she simmers the fire out. Soul is still a pretentious, pile of dicks no matter how she spins it.
Maybe even a cute pretentious, pile of dicks.
The next day Maka stares wide-eyed at the cute, pretentious, pile of dicks standing next to Blair wearing one of the chef uniforms.
"Everyone," Blair coos, "I want you to meet our new chef! Soul Evans."
While everyone around her claps and welcomes the new chef, Maka silently fumes and glares at him and the stupid smirk he gives her. In a way, it feels like the universe is taunting her by throwing him in her face like this, but it also means Soul won't be acting as a patron anymore.
No. She gets the delight of seeing his stupid, shark face every day when she comes to work.
She doesn't know which is worse.
When everyone disperses, Soul walks over to Maka with his hands stuffed in his pocket and she very much wishes to wipe that stupid look off his face. Permanently.
"Evans, I swear to god if this is some kinda-"
"Relax, Pigtails." He rests his hand on her head and musses her hair, causing Maka to growl like a small kitten and wave it away. "I need the extra money. I'm not here to ruin your life or anything."
"Good. Because if you so much as-"
"'Sides, now you get the pleasure of seeing me every day at work. I think that's a win your book."
A sound that isn't human emits from her throat as she goes to kick him, but he jumps out of the way of her blow and walks off chuckling to himself under his breath.
This is definitely worse than him being a customer, she decides.