𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 - TMR AU, Thomas

𝟢𝟢𝟨，𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐚

༺ SIX ༻

It's my first day working at Mamma Mia, and I'm nervous as hell. Only because of the thing I told Thomas yesterday. I'm afraid he might dislike me now, or that his training to be a server will be awkward.

The guilt of what I said has been eating me alive. I've said that words do a lot to me, and that also applies to my own words. Words are like... everything. It's why compliments mean so much to me.

Words can be lies and truths, said warmly and coldly, believed or not... it's everything texts are not. Texts don't show honesty and an apology through a text never works out.

When I enter Mamma Mia, Thomas is already standing there in his apron. He smiles, which makes me happy already, then holds out his hand as he bows down a bit.

Laughing, I take his hand. "What's this formal greeting for?"

He looks up, his eyes dark but bright at once, and places a kiss that heats my whole body up, on my hand. "It's my greeting to show I'm an awesome colleague and that this restaurant is amazing."

My smile brightens. "You've kissed even an grandpa's hand? If he starts working here?"

"Of course not. This is my first time trying this way of training someone!" He takes my wrist. "Come on, Blondie. Gotta get to work."

"Your way of training someone? By kissing their hand?" I laugh, and have to hold myself back from doing it in his shoulder because that's what I usually do when laughing with someone. "Sure that'll work out."

"I serve with charm." He stops walking when we're behind the bar, where no one but the bartender is, except we're in the corner. "That, I will teach you."

"So they'll order more drinks? And give me tips?"

"You're not a dumb blonde, I see." Thomas looks up and down at me. "Yup. But I'm sure the charm part won't be a problem for you." And he winks again, then leads me to the kitchen. "Now here you've got to pick up the food you're gonna serve. The drinks are at the bar. They'll tell you what table."

His hand is still wrapped around my wrist when he pulls me in a room behind the kitchen. It's cold and tiny here, with millions of products around us. "What size are you? Need to get you an apron. No tutu's here."

Luckily, the apron in my size fits. Thomas hands me a hair tie which he just magically got somewhere, and waits for me to finish making the ponytail. My hair can't get in the food.

"Now here you got the tray." He hands me the black thing. "You balance plates on your hands and wrists. It's hard in the beginning, but you'll manage. If you drop something, do some ballerina move as you pick it up and no one will mind."

I raise an eyebrow. "Do you do ballerina moves when you pick something up?"

"Unfortunately, I'm not capable of that." He cracks a smile. "But I never drop anything."

"You seem like you would."

"Well, maybe they got like... twenty new plates and thirty new glasses since I started working here, but that are some little mistakes." He cringes at his own words. Next, I'm standing back in the kitchen.

"Luca!" Thomas cups his hands around his mouth. "Rosetta is all trained and well. I'm sure she can bring some drinks."

The cook looks up. "Alright. But just start with cleaning up tables and putting cutlery down as you pick the dirty dessert plates and bowls up, Tommaso. Don't drop anything."

"As if I would dare to shatter your heart like that." He makes a dramatic movement before I'm pulled away again.

We're at a dirty table. The guests have already exited, their leftover desserts and plates the only clues left.