Edge of the Veil

One

When the bell rang at Clark's Diner just before closing, Alexandria Sade thought she was going to scream.

"Bobby! Can you get that? My hands are covered in soap and water!" She waited a moment and when he didn't respond, she rinsed her hands and dried them. "Man, screw Jason and Caroline for calling out tonight. This is bullshit," she murmured, glancing at her reflection in the greasy mirror in the kitchen. "Jesus." Her dark brown hair had long ago fallen around her face, only part of it still in the bun she'd pulled it in prior to the shift from hell. Her freckled skin was bare—she hadn't had time for makeup—and there were definitely dark circles under her eyes. But no matter; she had to tend to the customer out front.

Pushing through the stainless-steel swinging door, she entered the quiet dining area. The walls were lined in 50s nostalgia and the black-and-white checkerboard floor was dizzying. But it was the man standing by the entrance that made her breath hitch.

He was leaning against the hostess podium, poring over the diner's menu. His blue eyes glided over the laminated paper before he set it down, gazing at her through long, dark lashes. 

Running his fingers through his raven-colored hair, he pulled back a rogue strand from his forehead and one side of his full lips pulled upward. "Are you still open?" he asked.

For a moment, she forgot how to form words; her tongue and lips didn't seem to want to cooperate. She cleared her throat and walked closer. "Y–yes. We're open. I'm so sorry it took me so long. We're short staffed, and it's just me and the fry cook in the back. Please, follow me." She walked him to a corner booth, waited for him to ease into the bright red vinyl seat, and laid a menu on the table.

"Can I get you anything to drink? If you want a beer, we have a small selection of domestic." She tried to control her breathing, but she couldn't pull her eyes from him. Did guys like this actually exist outside of the movies and TV?

Stretching his long, denim-clad legs under the table, he flipped the menu over. Every muscle in his tan arm seemed to flex while the sleeve of his t-shirt hugged his bicep tighter. "I'll just have a Coke. I have a bit of a sweet tooth." He flashed a smile, showcasing the deep dimples on each of his cheeks.

"Sure. I'll be right back." Lexie weaved through the tables, jogging back to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, she filled it with ice and pressed it against the Coke machine. When she returned to the table, she set the glass in front of him, laying a straw next to it. "Here you go," she said, smiling warmly.

"What's your favorite dish on the menu?"

His voice was a smooth baritone which sent a shiver down her spine. She flushed, a deep pink spreading from her cheeks, down her neck, and to her chest. "Well, we're out of the daily special, so I'm going to recommend the cheeseburger." It was true; the cheeseburger was delicious, but it was also easy for poor old Bobby to cook at the last minute.

"The cheeseburger it is—" His eyes swept over her chest and landed on her name badge. "Lexie."

She smiled, the blush on her cheeks deepening. "All right then..." 

"Declan." He extended his hand to her, and when she wrapped her fingers around his, there was an electric energy that passed between them. Lexie gasped, and her eyes locked on his as it coursed through her veins.

Declan shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lexie."

"The pleasure is mine," she said, and butterflies entered her stomach as he brushed his thumb over the back of her hand before letting go. "I–I need to put your order in."

Lexie ran back to the kitchen, thrust the order in Bobby's hands with the promise it was the last one, and came back to the dining room, making sure to slow her steps before she reached the doorway.