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❛GOOD EVENING, MR. DARCY❜
THE DREADED AFTERNOON CALL CAME, just as it did almost every off day Chris had. At this point, it felt like he was the only worker in the Capitol Theater arcade, receiving that god damn call from his boss begging him to take the shift.
Always the same excuses about how the other employees were unavailable, or how he just can't trust them like he can Chris. The boy assumed his boss just liked that he never got into any trouble, so there were never any complaints about the brunette teenager smart mouthing behind the counter.
Pride and Prejudice sat closed with an arcade token lodged inside to keep the page from being drowned with the others, impossible to find again while Chris was busy exchanging money tokens and syrupy off-brand sodas.
Chris knew from that very morning he'd be forced to work. It was the first day of summer, after all, so all the snotty-nosed boys radiating body-odour without better to do with their lives swarmed the comfort of the dark cave called the arcade. Chris finished serving one of them a Sprite, taking a moment to look over his shoulder longingly at the closed book, where Mr Darcy called for him to continue reading.
Back in reality, the countertop bell rang three times consecutively in its shrill scream. Chris clenched his eyes briefly, taking in a sharp inhale of annoyance. He was right there. Was it really necessary for this rude imbecile to ring the bell?
"How many times do I have to ring this fuckin' thing?" a distinct voice chimed, causing Chris to turn so fast he almost fell straight over. His mouth opened into a smile of crooked white teeth.
"Stalking me at work now, huh, Richie?" Chris tried to ignore the small cracks in his voice. "Is attacking me in an alleyway not good enough for you."
"I think we both know you were the one who attacked me, uh," his eyes flickered to the nametag on Chris's right breast, which he seldom wore, "Chris." The boy in question froze for a second, before breathing out shallow laughter.
"If you're going to try and banter with someone, maybe you should learn their name first," he pushed off the counter and wandered over to the Cola machine, beginning to fill a large cup that Richie would inevitably order.
"Right-o, right-o, lads. This boy right 'ere is lookin' for a bit a banter," an excruciatingly bad English accent emitted from Richie's mouth. He was no Mr Darcy, that was for certain.
"It's clear doing voices is not your thing," Chris clicked a plastic lid on the sugary drink bubbling in his hand, wincing as the straw screeched through the opening in the middle. "That's probably why your spending all of your time in an arcade... alone," Chris emphasised teasingly. Richie grabbed his drink from the counter, moving it toward himself slowly before stopping.
