Heaven // Ryan Tedder

Chapter Three; Connection

That night at work was even worse than the last, and Janelle began to wish she would actually drop dead so she'd have an easy excuse to quit. Her blistered feet ached, and she felt as if she were about to pass out any moment. The dinner rush had always been bad, but this was definitely a record.

After serving more plates, and taking more orders than she could count, she ran up to yet another table, running a hand through her disheveled hair which she once again had up in a messy bun.

"Can I take your plates?" She Asked the people sitting there, upon realising that she had already served this table, and their dishes were now sitting empty in front of them.

The female at the table crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at Janelle annoyedly.

"I called for the bill half an hour ago." She complained.

"I'm really sorry, we're very busy.." Janelle Said, biting her lip which were now dark red with lipstick.

"Too busy to take care of your patrons?" The woman asked.

Janelle shook her head. "No, ma'am." She picked up the plates from the table. "I'll bring the bill." She muttered, before turning and walking over to the kitchen.

She stuck the dishes in the sink once she got there, then quickly grabbed a large cup of coffee she had brewed earlier, downing it in only a few seconds.

One of the cooks looked at her surprisedly, and she looked up, running another hand through her dark hair. "What?" She snapped.

The cook shrugged, going back to her work.

Janelle set the dirty mug in the sink with all of the other dishes she'd have to wash later, before heading out of the kitchen and up to the front desk, where she grabbed the bill. As she walked past to drop the bill off at the table from before, she noticed a man sitting alone at the corner of the restaurant.

"Oh, shit.." she mumbled, wondering how long he'd been there.

She walked over to the table, preparing herself for the worst.

"I'm so sorry for the long wait.." she said, once again running one of her slightly dry hands through her hair. "How long have you been here?"

The man looked at his watch, looking disheartened. "An hour.." he mumbled. "I guess she's not coming."

"A date?" Janelle Asked, looking around.

He nodded, the same disappointed look on his face.

"Do you still want to order?" Janelle Asked him, trying to steady her shaking hands which she had just gotten from a caffeine rush.

The man looked up at her, tilting his head a little. "Are you...okay?"

She swallowed. "Yeah, I'm fine." She Said. "Why do you ask?"

His eyes moved to her hands, which she forcefully causing to stop trembling when she saw his gaze.

He shrugged a little. "No reason, I guess." He said, answering her question. "But...I'll just go home, I think.."

"Okay." Janelle Said, putting her pen and notepad back in her apron pocket. "I'm really sorry."

"For what?" He asked.

"For the long wait," Janelle Said. "And your date not showing up."

He gave her a soft smile. "It's not your fault." he said. "And it's no big deal, really."

She gave him a soft smile back, before turning around to walk away. Only, just then, her ankles both gave out, causing her to fall to the floor.

The man at the table stood, looking at her. "Oh my gosh, are you okay?" He Asked worriedly.

She couldn't help it, but she began crying uncontrollably, so he ran over, kneeling beside her.

"Did you hurt yourself?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"It's just that today's been shit, yesterday was shit," she carried on, tears streaming down her face. "I'm exhausted and in pain and I don't have anyone to go home to..."

The man hesitated, then laid a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it gently.

She wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry.." she mumbled. "You probably think I'm mental or something." 

He shook his head. "I can tell you're tired." He said. "Why don't you take the night off?"

"They wouldn't let me." She sighed, running one of her hands through her messy hair. "But It's no big deal, really." She Said, repeating what he had said earlier.

He gave her a look. "Most people who say that don't really mean it."

She brought herself to her feet, and he stood as well.

"I really need to get back to work." She mumbled. "I'm sorry for...that." She smiled sheepishly, and the man shrugged.

"It's really okay." He said, giving her a small smile. "We all have those days, right?"

She nodded a little, before turning and walking away, going back to work.

When Ryan got home, he quickly called Brent, pacing around his bedroom impatiently.

When Brent finally answered, he didn't give him a chance to speak.

"Brent, I met her." He said.

"Emily?" Brent Asked confusedly.

"No, she stood me up." Ryan said. "I met Janelle."

"And who's Janelle?" Brent sighed a little.

"A waitress." Ryan Said. "She's got dark hair, and she's so pretty!" He exclaimed, smiling widely.

"How do you know her name is Janelle?"

"That's what her name tag said." Ryan stopped pacing, answering his friend.

"So you're telling me Emily stood you up," Brent Said. "So you decided to ask out the waitress?"

"Well, I didn't exactly ask her out.." he mumbled.

"Thank goodness."

"But seriously, Brent," Ryan beamed. "I think she's the one."

"That's what you said about Emily."

"But this is different!" Ryan Said. "I-I can feel It this time."

Brent sighed. "I think you need to stop for a minute." He said. "I hate seeing you have your heart broken over and over again. You play it off like it doesn't bother you, but I can tell that it does."

Ryan's face fell. Why wasn't Brent listening to him? There was something different about this Janelle. She seemed to be really nice, and not only that, but he knew she was alone, since she said so herself.

Ryan looked down, biting his lip. "Brent, I've gotta go." He mumbled, before pulling his phone away from his ear, ending the call.

That night, Ryan laid in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He couldn't help but let his mind wander, thinking about Janelle.

He had never felt like this before. None of the many women he'd been with, none of them ever made him feel like this. He felt like he a teenager, having butterflies in his stomach like this.

There was something about her, something that made him fall so hard for her.

And he was determined to see her again.