Dream Runners (ON HOLD)

Part 3

When I woke in the morning, I was refreshed. I didn't have a new wound to clean and close in hopes it wouldn't scar to badly, I didn't have new bruises or stiff shoulders from fighting or swinging a blade to hard. My eyes opened easily, not struggling to shut and slide me into darkness once more. My breath came easily, not the usual pant that said I'd run marathons over night.

I swung out of bed, pushing toward the shower and planning what I'd wear today. I'd have to take the motorcycle in case I needed to go a little farther than I thought, and if I braided my hair I shouldn't be to windblown....

Putting on black jeans with a fitted magenta tank top I put on my combat boots and leather jacket, for once thankful for my short stature and blond hair. It helped me come across as less baddass, and though I liked to present an image and a don't fuck with me vibe, it wasn't the best for job hunting. I wove my hair into a thick dutch braid, starting at the crown of my head and going down and over my shoulder, as tight as I could make it and tying it off with no less than three hair ties. I could only hope it would stay at least most of the day. I paused at the door, then huffed and went to apply some light lip gloss and mascara, with a touch of sparkles around my eyes. It made me look a little softer, lightening the shadows and making the green pop, hopefully distracting anyone from the shadows that lingered there. I'd have to talk today, it wasn't an option. I grabbed Excedrin as an after thought, slipping it into my front pocket since it wouldn't fit in my bra with my phone and keys. I got migraines if I had to many panic attacks, and knowing how often I'd have to force myself to speak today already had my chest tightening with the threat of one.

I kicked up the kickstand, straddling my bike and letting the vibration of it roaring to life sooth me while I mapped the route I'd try in my head. I'd start with the edges of town-if I remembered correctly there was a homey little diner on the edge of town near the freeway that would be a good place to start. They didn't have a bar though, which meant they may have fewer employees.... No place was worth skipping though. I'd start with the most desirable places and work my way down. No need to start at the holes in the walls.

Thirty minutes later I was pulling into a place called Bob's Diner. It was larger than I'd thought, but still small enough to be cozy, with a handful of cars in the parking lot. I wondered what it would be like to work in a place like this, if I'd like it, I didn't know. It'd be harder to stay in the background in a smaller environment like this, harder to blend in, but would that be such a bad thing? With my luck I'd probably stick out like a sore thumb, but one could hope not, right? I took a deep breath, putting my helmet under my arm and keys in my bra, rolling my shoulders and running a hand over my braid to be sure it was in place before walking toward the door with as much confidence as I could muster.

There were few customers inside, a relief seeing as I'd be able to talk to someone sooner that way. My stomach rumbled at the delicious smells that filled the air, but I ignored it-I'd be able to eat something later. A boy looked up from where he was sitting with two men and did a double take, his eyes seeming to assess me head to toe. He had dark hair with two blond streaks to either side of his face and blue eyes the color of crystals that crackled with life and energy. He stood quickly with a smile and an odd look in his gaze, and I saw he was a waiter. He strode toward me with confidence and vibrancy, his gaze still odd, and I had to brace myself not to take a step back from him.

"Table for one?" His voice was rich, deeper than one would expect with his slender build and being just under a head taller than me.

"I'd like to speak to your manager please?" My voice came out harsh, rough from disuse. It was husky already from the punishments mother gave me, but it sounded almost like I was getting over a cold. I barely managed to lift my chin and take a deep breath, praying silently that my panic attack would hold off just a little longer. A fist clenched in my throat, begging me to stop talking.