prologue

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Rose Fiore ||
2 years ago.

"Rose? Are you even listening to me?" My friend, Jess, asks me.

"Totally." I bit down on the chocolate-covered strawberry as I place my feet on top of the white marble countertop.

"Get your feet off of my counter." She throws my feet off and I bite down the smirk growing. I stand up walking to her fridge trying to find something strong. "There's no alcohol. Anyway, you have to work less than an hour. You cant be tipsy."

I roll my eyes shutting the door. Party-Pooper.

"Want me to drive you?" She asks me grabbing her keys and purse. I nod my head, grabbing my purse and walking out.

We both get into, her black BMW, and I reach for the aux playing some oldies. "I swear you're like sixty years old," she jokes.

"Wish I was." The music starts playing threw the speakers and I throw my head back bumping to the song.

We make it to my work after a few minutes and I hop out of the car, whispering a thank you to Jess.

"Text me if you want to hang out later," Jess yells from the car. I nod my head closing the door.

I probably won't. I hate hanging out with the same person again, on the same day. It's draining. I love Jess though.

I push open the door to the restaurant and greet the staff as I walk to the back to get dressed. I hang my bag upon the holder and grab my apron. I tie it around my slim waist giving it one last tug. I look at myself in the mirror and decide to put my hair up. I tie my honey blonde hair up in a tight ponytail. I walk out grab my pad, to write down orders, and get straight to work.

~~

I don't know how I ended up being up here guiding people to their damn tables. I never do this.

Being a receptionist is the worst possible thing because I hate talking to people. I know. How can you hate talking to people but work at a restaurant? Desperate times, call for desperate needs.

I lay on my hand as I wait for the next person to come in. I tap on my phone, secretly, to see if my sister texted me.

No Notifications.

Of course, there isn't. Why did I expect it to be any different today?

I was supposed to go out with my sister and her husband, aka my bother-in-law, but she hasn't texted back after she said she would. But this isn't the first time she's done this. So I'm not even a little bit surprised.

I throw my phone off to the side as a group of people walk in. Someone taps me on the shoulder and I turn around, "I'll take them to their table. You be their waitress," my coworker tells me.

Don't mind if I do. I walk away to grab my stuff.

I turn around and from a distance I see one of the very good looking men.

A blonde boy, who reminds me of a golden retriever, walks up to the stand with his hands in his pocket. "Bianchi." My coworker goes through the list of names, finally, she's found his name and grab menus for everyone.

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