Finn had finally done it. He had saved enough money to attend the town's all-boys school. After years of bullying from the public school, he was ecstatic to start his first day.
Of course, Finn hadn't expected to be 20 minutes late on the first...
"Oh, god. Oh, god," I murmur as I rock back and forth on the closed toilet seat of the Chuck E Cheese employee bathroom. I'm the only one here, so I left myself sob hysterically. I don't know why just the very sight of that woman annoys me. But I want to gouge out her eyeballs and feed them to fish. Preferably small fish that will take their time ripping her eyes apart.
I wipe my eyes and call Mateo. I listen to the line ring four or five times before directing me to voicemail. I spend a minute listening to the sound of Mateo's voice on the message before I hang out.
I take some deep breathes, trying to get the last of my panic attack to leave my system. I have that dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach. The feeling that comes during a panic attack where you feel like you're going to throw up. I guess it's a good thing that I'm too poor to eat breakfast. Otherwise, I'd probably spill my guts all over the bathroom. Then I'd be the one that has to clean it up, so it's a lose-lose situation.
I pull on my hair tightly. My knees pressed tightly against my chest. And just when I thought things couldn't get any more embarrassing than having a mental breakdown in the bathroom of a Chuck E Cheese, there's a knock on the door.
"Sir, we're closed. I'm gonna need you to leave, or at least wait until we open," A deep voice says from behind the stall.
I sniff and use the back of my sleeve to wipe the tears from my eyes. "I work here. I'm sorry I'm early, I'm just-"
"Sobbing?" He asks.
"Yes," I whisper.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asks. I can hear him shift and lean against the bathroom stall.
"Not particularly," I mumbled, standing up from my seat on the toilet to also lean against the door.
"Alright. Wanna help me make pizzas and restock the tickets in the skeeball machines?" He asks.
"Yeah, okay." I turn toward the door and push it open, causing him to stumble.
I look at him. He's tall, maybe an inch over Mateo. His skin is quite dark in contrast to the never-been-outside shade of my skin. His air is about the same length as mine. He's wearing the same uniform I am. I glance at his nametag. It says, Elliot.
Elliot awkwardly juts out a hand looking a bit apprehensive. "I'm Elliot. I'm the new assistant manager." Instead of having that confident tone of voice, he now sounds incredibly tentative.
I take his hand, knowing full well that I look like I've had an allergic reaction to something. "I'm Finn. I am not a manager of any kind."
"Nice to meet you, Finn. Let's go make pizzas," Elliot says as he begins to walk away.
I follow him into the kitchen. We talk as we work, and for a minute, I mistake it for flirting and get a bit uncomfortable. Then I realize that Elliot radiates straight guy energy, and I return to thinking of it as banter.
"So, do you have plans after work?" Elliot asks as he kneads some dough.
"No, I don't think so," I tell him, sprinkling some mozzarella on my pizza.
"Wanna get drinks with me and some friends?" Elliot purposes looking over at me.
"Oh, I'm not twenty-one," I answer, sliding the pizza into the oven.
"Neither am I, but I pass. I'm sure we could get you a fake ID," Elliot says, spreading the dough on the pizza pan to create the crust.
"Are you saying I won't pass?" I tease as he slides me the pan. I begin the spread the sauce on the dough using a spoon.
"Well, you look like a tall child. Plus, you have a babyface, so..." Elliot laughs.
"Excuse you, I am twice the man you are," I say, jabbing a finger at him.
"I can guarantee I am more of a man than you are," Elliot tells me.
"Oh yeah? What makes you say that?" I ask, raising my eyebrow at him.
"How long can you go in bed?"
A blush creeps onto my cheeks. "What?"
"That's the ultimate test. Whoever can last longer in bed is more of a man," Elliot explains, placing a pizza in the oven.
"Well, it's not usually about how long I can last," I say with a little chuckle.
"What does how long the chick can last have to do with it?" Elliot asks, sounding woefully confused.
"When I get laid, there is generally not a chick in the equation," I explain, a blush still prevalent on my cheeks.
"What do you-" Elliot pauses, "Oh!" Now a blush rising to his own cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize it."
"Wow, I didn't realize I don't radiate gay energy," I tell him in an overdramatic tone.
"No, I totally see it now. I was just oblivious. I guess I should have noticed that straight guys normally aren't sobbing in a bathroom."
"Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, anger evident in my tone of voice. I shoot him a glare filled with daggers.
"Well, you know," Elliot tells me with a shrug.
"No. No, I don't. Care to explain?" My anger is radiating off of me in waves.
"Gay guys are a lot softer, ya know." Elliot's avoiding my gaze now.
"Wow," I scoff. I wipe the flour off my hands with a towel and throw it aggressively at Elliot.
"Oh, come on," Elliot says.
I walk out to the front. "Good morning," Sky greets me turning around from their place at the counter. Sky's hair is red and looks fluffy. They're short, just like me, and they are my favorite coworker.
"Hello. So it turns out our new assistant manager is a homophobic asshat. Who thinks he's all that and a bag of fucking chips," I grumbled, crossing my arms across my chest.
"I'm sorry. On the bright side, it looks like you got some action last night." Sky puts their finger on my hickey on my neck.
"Yeah, he's hella fine," I answer.
"Wanna explain why you look like it's allergy season?"
"Two words. Janet Green."
"Oh, shit," Sky says. "Can I get the two words that answer the question who you're fucking?"
"Mateo Quesada," I say, a goofy smile spreading on my face.
We keep climbing like two hundred reads a night. I went to bed and we were at four hundred something. I woke up and we were at like 605! Love you all!
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