**Highest Ranking : #1 in Chicklit**
[ A WATTPAD FEATURED STORY ]
Mabel Carter traveled half way across the country to attend college and get away from her dark past. After so many years she finally feels as though she's the one in control of her...
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By the time ten o'clock rolls around, signaling the end of my first training shift as a waitress, I'm utterly exhausted. The arches of my feet ache from being on them all day, and I'm pretty sure the new shoes I'm wearing have rubbed my heels raw, but I also feel a sense of accomplishment. The burning muscles in my cheeks from smiling so much, the little droplets of blood I find in my socks when I get home, everything just seems worth it. I know my body will get used to the change, and that I'll eventually wear in my shoes enough that they won't bother me, but I don't think I'll ever feel this high again from a first days work.
Hazel gushes over how well I did as we change into our outfits, her tone both encouraging and proud. I shed off my uniform and trade it for a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a dark blue hoodie. After fluffing our my hair and slipping my feet into a pair of vans, I'm ready to go. Hazel on the other hand, takes about twenty more minutes as she fusses over different dresses before deciding on a black loose-fitting, mid-thigh dress that shows off the majority of her back. She adds a pair of sleek black pumps to the mix, and I gawk at her ability to wear such high heels after running around the diner all day.
Much respect.
We pull up to the bar, climbing out of the cab together and walking up to the bouncer with our IDs in hand. My stomach churns with nerves as he looks them over, glancing up at the two of us and back down at the cards several times before he lets out a soft sigh and hands them back. The last time we had been here—and also my first time having to use a fake ID—had been so much simpler. The bouncer had hardly looked at them before letting us through.
"Thanks hun," Hazel says to the guy, touching his arm gently as we pass.
I arch an eyebrow at her in question, but she just rolled her eyes and waved me off.
"He was contemplating whether to let us in or not," she says once we're far enough away from the front doors.
I nod in understanding with a small smile and follow her up to the bar to order our drinks. I get a Long Island iced tea and take a long pull from the lime green colored jumbo straw as soon as it's in my hands. It's one of my favorite drinks; cheap enough and fruity enough that I don't taste the alcohol, but also enough to get me tipsy quickly.
