We were a Ticking Bomb [On Hold]

5-Drinks Bring Back All The Memories

I'm currently listening to memories by Maroon 5, and damn, it's so accurate. This glass of whiskey is definitely bringing back the memories I thought lost.

Simple truth: Remembering is fucking painful.

The first few weeks after everything went to shit, all I could think about was the awful memories. The ones that had a tight grip around my throat and my chest, the ones that made me want to crawl back into bed and stay there forever. Problem is, I never really had the time to do that. I still had to work, more than ever actually.

But this, my second glass of whiskey, is bringing the good ones out. The ones that are the hardest to deal with, because they're the ones that show me that not everything is black and dark, or white like light. Nor either grey, nor somber. It shows me that we can be all three.

It all just depends on the time frame, because at the start, I was sure he was pure light.

"Who's that?" I asked again in a whisper as me and María were getting changed in the locker room later on that afternoon.

Our shift had finished almost as my newly found love had entered the room, had been greeted by everybody except me, and then walked out into the restaurant.

"John?" She asked, as if it wasn't obvious that I was talking about him. "He's the boss' son."

"Chef's son?!" I said a little too loud, not believing that such a godling could be the son of... Well, that man. Chef didn't even look old enough to be his father.

"No, you silly!" María said laughingly. "THE boss, as in, the hotel's owner, Mr. Doe."

(Well, I'm obviously not going to write his real name, duh, so he'll just be Mr. Doe, and please don't laugh, there was nothing funny about that man).

"Oh," I said, my hopes of getting the guy shattering a little. But just a little.

María looked at me then, a clear smirk on her face.

"He just came back from a business trip, he's been away with his father for a couple of weeks," she said.

I hummed, pretending like I didn't want to ask a thousand questions. Did he have a girlfriend? Had his father promised his hand in marriage to a wealthy family? What did he like to do in his spare time? What was he like? How come he didn't look stuck up like a businessman? How come a rich boy wore camo shorts and used stretchers? How old was he?

"John is single, and a really good boy," she added as she raised her eyebrows repeatedly.

"María!"

"What? You said it yourself that you're single! You're a beautiful girl, he's a beautiful boy..." she said as she gestured with her hands.

"That's an understatement," I quipped.

"I knew it!" María said as she laughed again.

"Stop it," I yelped, and I grabbed my bike's helmet and pushed the door open to get out. My head was turned back, as I was still looking at María as she spoke again.

"If you say so," she said, still smirking.

"If she says what?"

I turned around abruptly, finding myself right in front of the boss' son, my words trapped in my throat for a second.

"Oh, Johnny," María came to my rescue, "I should introduce you to our newest recruit. Johnny, this is Sally, Sally this is Johnny."

"Only María calls me Johnny," he said looking down at me. "Most people just call me John, or Jota... Like, the letter, you know." He said with his sexy voice, and then he flashed me with a grin that made my insides melt like a scoop of ice cream lying on the pavement on a blazing summer afternoon. He leaned against the doorframe, one arm perched up over his head.

It took my brain a moment to remember how to speak Spanish, and understand that 'Jota' was just the way the letter J was pronounced in their alphabet.

"Nice to meet you," I finally managed to say. "And you can just call me Sal," I added, "Like most people do." It was my time to flash him with my best grin as I looked up into his eyes, which seemed so far and yet so close. So intense.

The thing is, John towered over me in a way that most would consider funny, as my head barely reached his chest. And he was standing so close then, that my neck was starting to hurt as I looked up at him.

"Sal with an a? As in... Sal y pimienta?" He asked.

He was referring to salt and pepper, and before I could stop myself, I cracked up laughing.

I felt so stupid that I hadn't thought about the fact that people had been calling me 'Sal' for two weeks inside a kitchen, which in their language meant 'Salt'; which was actually my nickname back at home. I know, it doesn't even sound funny, but at the time, I thought it hilarious. Or maybe I was trying to sound cute in front of a sexy as fuck guy, I'm not sure, the thing is that I laughed wholeheartedly at his words.

I could sense both María and John looking at me weirdly, I mean, I don't think Maria had even heard me laugh yet.

"So sorry," I said finally, calming myself and wiping tears off my eyes. "I just... Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, bella," he said, making my heart jump in my chest as he called me beautiful. "You have an amazing laugh."

I think I blushed. Okay, I'm sure I blushed. I was dumbly awestruck by him at that point. The voice in my head kept yelling 'mine'. He needs to be mine.

I wanted to be held in his arms, I wanted to feel his fingers brushing my hair, to run my thumb across his full bottom lip. I wanted to know how warm his chest felt early in the morning as I laid my head against it and drew idle circles on his skin with my fingers. I wanted it all.

"Okay," María said as she took a step towards me, towards the door." I need to go home."

"Sure, sure, so do I," I said, even though I had nowhere to be more than my flat. My empty flat.

I said a quick goodbye as John stepped out of the way, and me and Maria walked into the street together.

"So... what's the boss' son doing around the kitchen?" I asked, unable to stop my curiosity any longer.

Thankfully, Maria didn't make any more funny comments, and just replied to all my questions eagerly. I could tell she really liked John, and she was probably trying to play wingman.

"His father wants him to learn the ropes of the business, and he wants him to do it from the bottom up. So he will be working in all areas of the hotel for the next couple of months," she explained.

"Oh, and is he... Going to be working in the kitchen?" I asked as we reached Maria's car, she unlocked the door and I stood there leaning against my bike.

"I'm sure he will at some point, darling, I don't really have his schedule... But I can ask for it if you want," she added with a wink.

"María!" I laughed, "I don't need you as my wing woman," I laughed.

María laughed brightly too, and I closed the door of her car, locking her in. She rolled down her window before driving off while waving at me.

"See you tomorrow!" I sang happily after her.

As I biked home that day, I found myself singing happily and daydreaming about a romance between a poor girl working her ass off while doing dishes, Cinderella style, and falling in love with the hot Prince a.k.a business owner.

And well, obviously, the Prince looked exactly like John in my head.

Fuck, I better go to sleep, I don't think that last whiskey was necessary. I almost feel happy remembering those first few days... It was all so magical. But that's enough, the happy memories bring the bad ones, and I need to be up for work early tomorrow. So over and out!