[ A WATTPAD FEATURED STORY ]
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❝We accept the love we think we deserve.❞
But what does that really mean?
This is Eva's story; a tale of a wayward girl who had a heart of glass and when it broke, forgot that light tends to creep in through the cr...
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Caroline Monroe stared at her reflection on the mirror of the staff's washroom, her eyes wearily eyeing the uniform she had on.
The top only reached a little above her navel, displaying a good few inches of her petite waist. The mini-skirt too seemed to cover only just enough, which never failed to catch the eyes of many customers.
Closing her eyes, she forced herself to shake away the unsettling thoughts. She needed the money — Tristan wasn't here anymore. And maybe she'd lied to her daughter about working at a diner, but she couldn't tell Eva she served at a pub.
Eva would've asked her what a pub was and Caroline really wouldn't have felt like explaining. Plus, this part of the town was always bad; it was no place to be if one expected chivalry or any form of decency.
Letting out a deep breath, Caroline walked out the smelly area and headed towards the bar counter, the humid air and sweaty scent attacking her instantly. She had to cut through the main booths to get there... And that's when she felt it again. Their eyes.
It irked her that she never knew where the stares were coming from, made her want to crawl back into a shell and never emerge.
Men, she couldn't help but think bitterly, the word soaked in disgust as it floated around her mind.
“You'll get used to it,” a female voice said from beside her, “first few weeks are always tough for 'em newbies.” Caroline stared wearily at the redhead munching on her gum loudly, wearing the same skimpy uniform as her but who didn't seem as uncomfortable as Caroline herself felt. Maybe it just became easier with time.
Caroline hoped the other woman was right... If only time could fly by fast enough when she desperately needed it to.
The bartender pushed a tray of three shot glasses towards her. “Loner guy over there,” he motioned with his head towards a guy seated on a table at the centre of the rightmost half of the bar. Caroline blinked momentarily in surprise. The man didn't look like he belonged in this part of the town. Hell, she didn't believe he was from anywhere around this town at all.
Balancing the tray on one hand like she was supposed to, she walked cautiously but quickly towards the particular booth and settled the drinks in front of the stranger. His eyes, which were focused on his hands that were playing with his loosened tie, landed on her.
Grey. His eyes were such a piercing grey, Caroline could have sworn there was a storm brewing behind them.
“Thanks,” he finally said. Yeah, Caroline thought, definitely not from around here. People from this part never thanked her when she served them — any form of politeness didn't exist.
