𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐂 ❶

𝟒. ✭ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈 ✭

Hell. I look like complete, utter hell.

I blow out a frustrated breath as I look over myself through the bathroom mirror. Being a waitress in this shitty bar and restaurant combo really sucks sometimes. Sometimes being nights like tonight where I've had my ass grabbed, beer spilled all over me, and a plate off wings knocked directly into my tits. I can't even imagine how badly I smell right now with this mixture of skunkish beer and wing sauce all over me, not to mention the blue cheese dressing that I'd had to try and wash out of my hair.

"At least I'm getting overtime." I've said this out loud to myself several times tonight to remind myself why I picked up this shift, why I got a second job. I needed the money— we did. Affording a place in the city is expensive, even my boyfriend and my semi-decent apartment costs an arm and a leg. At least it's better than the place I moved into when I first got here. This is true. Without Tucker I'd probably still be living there.

A shiver rolls through me just at the thought of that shitty place. It took me forever to get rid of the bed bugs I'd gotten from the previous tenants. Never in my life would I have ever thought that I would end upon living somewhere like that but then I'd left home and it had been my only option. I'd left home and was cut-off completely. My father had fortunately left me with the amount I'd had in my bank account but my monthly allowance stopped after that. I became broke in the blink of an eye, something I never in my life had been.

A knock on the bathroom door has me hurrying out, leaving my nearly unrecognizable reflection behind me. I hurry to the back room where I grab my card and clock out, happy that my shift is finally over. Not a word is said to anyone before I leave since I don't really get along with the other staff.

I've been told I come across as a bitch because I'm anti-social. What people don't understand is I'm not social because I don't have a choice. The less people know me the better, the less lies I have to weave, to remember.

After a long walk I get to my apartment. I unlock the door and am immediately met with the smell of homemade cooking. A deep inhale through the nose has my mouth watering. After a long and frustrating night at work, a good meal would definitely help my mood and Tucker knew that. He always makes us dinner. Dating a chef has its perks.

I walk into the kitchen to see Tucker dancing around in the kitchen as he handles a sauté pan. He cocks his head over his shoulder upon my entrance, "Hey there, babycakes, how was work?"

"Eh..." I go over to the fridge and grab a beer before I go over to give him a swift kiss. I lean on the counter with, "just one of those days." I gesture to my shirt and he cringes.

"That bad, huh?" I nod at him. "I'm sorry."

"It is what it is."

"Why don't you take a shower and clean up while I finish dinner?"

"Alright." I give him another kiss before heading off to the shower.

✩✩✩

I groan and grab the pillow from underneath my head, covering my ears to void out the blaring alarm clock. I reach out with one hand and feel around for my phone. When I find it, I smack the top several times before it shuts off.

Tucker snatches the pillow off of my head with, "come on, babe, it's time to get up."

"I don't want to." I whine.

"I know, neither do I." That's a lie. Tucker is the epitome of a morning bird. I, on the other hand, am not. I'm a night owl and will need copious amounts of coffee if I want to function.

I throw my legs over the bed and take care of all my human necessities before dressing myself. The dress that was part of my outfit for the diner is looser than it ever has been. I've been losing more and more weight, no matter how many of the amazing meals Tuck makes for me I eat. I make a mental note to have Benny, my boss, order me a new one.