𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐬

CHAPTER NINE - THE FLIRTING GAME

Minerva

I watched warily as Doris approached the booth Andreus and I were seated at. The old woman was considered a motherly figure by most of her clients. She was like one of those Southern, all-sugar-no-vinegar waitresses from the TV shows my sister watched with ardor. Except, Doris could be a real cunt if pushed off the right edge. I never even had to open my mouth for her to draw her conclusion about what type of person I was.

In her book, I was a bitch who had to get the hell outta dodge. She'd made it clear from the beginning I had no place here. From the moment I sat down with my sister and some bikers, she narrowed down on me. On me, specifically. The first coffee I had at Riley's Diner? Spat in. My first meal? Too salty. My first milkshake? The wrong flavor, done with spoilt milk. I refused to deal with her shit at the time, just went off to make ends meet and earn my living in this hell hole. The times we spotted on each other in the street, she never failed to sneer my way.

That was why I made sure to earn more than she ever could. Nasty, old crone would never know how it would be like to be her own boss and have a higher payment (after a shorter period of working). I did, though. I knew. I also wasn't petty enough to tell her. It was enough to know for myself, what was the point of her knowing?

"Fancy seeing you here, Andre," she smiled, the brightness a level too disgusting for me. She was decades older than the guy and she flirted with him? Talk about pathetic. "Thought you were busy these days, that's why you didn't show up."

"Oh, yeah, I had a bit of a tight schedule," he returned a casual smile. "I'll have the usual, please. All of it."

"What, no sugar for me, honey?" She giggled like one of those schoolgirls who finally gathered the courage to talk to their crush. "Not even a little?"

"Stop flirting with him and take the fucking order, Doris." Feeling the weight of her stare finally settle on me, I returned her frustrated glower. "I'll have a cappuccino."

She took the menus from the table, neither having been opened, and muttered under her breath only for my ears, "Club whore."

I didn't bother be upset by the choice of words, not when the entire city took its liberty on describing me as something I wasn't. It wasn't like I cared anyway. I had other things on my mind.

"I didn't take you for the cappuccino type," Andreus snickered, his smile somehow dimmer in the friendly remark.

"I'm not," I glanced out he window as I rubbed between my fingers the end of my braid. I didn't have any toothpicks on me, there was no better way to deal with my fidgeting. "I just don't want her to ruin my preference by spitting in it."

"Doris won't spit in your drink," he argued, humor dancing in his eyes. "She's a sweetheart."

I bit back a retort in that regard. The old lady knew who to show her true colors to. It sure as hell wasn't Andreus. Remembering our conversation in the woods, I tightened my hand over my braid. Jesus, did it hit deep what he'd said. At the same time, I hadn't avoided to defend myself... as it was normal. But it was the first time I saw under the pretty shell of Andreus Lir. Not about his true nature (I was still sure there was something up with him), but about his feelings. Those he rode on waves to get rid of. The anger, the pain, the fear. Looking back on the hostility with which I approached the argument, I couldn't help the guilt from gnawing worse than a hungry beast at my insides. I had my own demons, why the hell couldn't he have his? Why did I have to kick him back where it hurt?

"You said you didn't eat anything," he broke me out of my thoughts, his fingers playing with a sugar pocket. "Aren't you hungry?"

"No, not really." I didn't eat in the mornings. Not always. I usually had meals in between shifts, some sandwiches or a salad or something. It depended. On the busier days, I ate when we closed the place down, managed to put together some instant noodles to end the day with. Whenever I remembered I was hungry. Joey had her meals in her room, cooked before we opened and left me some bites. On the better days, when I didn't upset her. Again, it depended.