Running with Roses

All Grace expected was a normal day at the diner. It certainly started that way, until Eli barged in, soaked from rain and asking for pie.

They say attraction is a choice; they say we essentially choose who we end up with. We choose who we want to be the mother or father of our children, weather we’re aware of it or not. That statement is false. She would not have picked him willingly.

            He didn’t walk into her life like all the romance movies say he should. No, he barged his way in and demanded permanent residence. Confused? It started exactly one year ago, in a little diner on the corner of East and 3^rd street. The walls are rusted, and the floorboards creak underfoot. But for some strange reason, it continues to this day to attract a fair amount of customers.

            A teenage girl sat on a tall barstool behind the main counter, kicking its base with her foot. She mindlessly ran her long fingers through her dyed-red hair, nearly the color of the red-velvet cupcakes the bakery down the street sold. For the most part anyway. The brown roots of her natural were beginning to peek through near her part, and she wasn’t able to buy hair dye until her next paycheck. It didn’t seem to matter at the moment though, as she wasn’t planning on seeing anybody important.

            But plans don’t always work out.

            The bell over the door chimed as a customer entered. The girl rose to her feet, aware that she shouldn’t be sitting down on the job in the first place. “Can I help you sir?”

            The ‘sir’ laughed as he walked up to the waitress. “Sir makes me sound too old,” he said, pushing a few strands of dark, wet hair out of his eyes. “The name’s Eli. So what’s a pretty girl like you doing stuck in a place like this, Grace?”

            Her heart thudded in her chest. “How do you…”

            “You’re wearing a nametag.” He pointed at her chest as he rested an elbow on the countertop.

            She looked down, trying not to blush. “Right.”

            “So I’ll have two slices of your finest pie, and I’d like you to come sit with me,” he said, a devilishly handsome grin plastered across his face.

            “Excuse me?” who does he think he is, asking a waitress he just met on a date? Well, it wasn’t really a date, and he was kind of cute…

            “Grace?”

            “I don’t think I can…” she trailed off.

            “Of course you can,” he said, gesturing towards the empty restaurant. “This place is deserted. Pun intended. I’m sure you can afford to take a break.”

            “Well I…”

            He reached into his pocket and pulled out two wrinkled bills. “I’ll wait for you over there,” he said, jerking his thumb towards a table by a large, stained window.

            Was she ever going to be allowed to finish a sentence with this guy?

            She nodded, and went back to get his order. What was she even doing? She wasn’t some pushover; she was Grace Wilder: she was supposed to be hot headed, strong, independent. If she had learned anything from the s****y fortune life had thrown at her, it was not to give in. And yet, here she was, giving in to some teenage boy who had entered her life mere minutes ago and charmed her into submission.

            Her platform shoes echoed on the linoleum. Wasn’t this how horror movies started? Open scene: cute, seemingly harmless boy puts the moves on an innocent, unsuspecting waitress before taking her back to his place and killing her.

            Grace shook her head, as if the movement could fling away the thoughts. She carefully cut away two slices of the nicest pie (which, regretfully, wasn’t that nice. The diner wasn’t well off enough to keep making fresh pastries on a daily basis), and took one in each hand before heading out the doorframe �"alas, the door itself was missing-.

            It didn’t take long to find Eli, who had made himself comfortable at the back table, staring out the window. She sat down across from him, setting the two plates on the table.

            “Don’t you have anything better to do?” she quipped, trying to ignore the patter of raindrops on the window.

            “What do you mean?” he asked, shoving a forkful of pie into his mouth.

            “It’s not every day some guy shows up and offers to treat his waitress to pie,” she commented, picking at the crust of the pie with the small tines of the fork.

            “You looked like you needed some,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders.

            “Pie?”

            “And somebody to talk to.” He looked up, his blue eyes studying her. “I’m not going to judge.”

            “Don’t waste your time,” she said, dismissing him with a wave of her pale hand. “I’m not about to tell some stranger my life story.”

            “At least eat the pie then. You look malnourished.”

            “I can’t help it,” she mumbled, taking up a forkful of the desert.

            “High metabolism?” he questioned.

            “Something like that.”

            “Come on Grace, you can tell me,” he said, sounding concerned.

            “Because I know you so well,” she replied, dripping sarcasm.

            “That’s the good part,” he said, pointing his fork at her in emphasis. “Who am I going to tell?”

            He has a point.

            “Maybe later.”

            “There’s going to be a later?” He replied, eyes lighting up. “Great! Same time tomorrow, all right?”

            “Wait, that’s not what I…” she began. But he was already gone. “What did I just get myself into?”

0o00o0

            True to his word, he was back the next day at the same time. They didn’t talk much then, either. At least, she didn’t. Eli on the other hand…

            “And then of course I had to punch the guy, because who just takes a guy’s running shoes? I had to give an arm and a leg for those, and there was no way I was just going to let some tight wearing football player…”

            “Eli.”

            “What?”

            “You talk too much.”

            “Maybe you don’t talk enough,” he said, staring thoughtfully down into his pie. He let his fork drop onto his plate. “See you tomorrow.”

            Grace stared as the talkative track runner calmly walked out the door and into the rain that was going on its second day in a row.

0o00o0

She was beginning to think he was stalking her, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He had come back the third day, and the fourth. The fifth day was her day off, and she almost found herself missing him. She didn’t get much of a chance, though. He still managed to find her.

She sat on the edge of a stone bridge, swinging her legs back and forth. The stones were still a little wet from yesterday’s rain, but she didn’t mind. It was peaceful. Just her, the near silence of the river, and…

“Hiya.”

Eli.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, not bothering to turn around.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, sitting down next to her. “You know how long it took me to find you?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to be found,” she retorted. How could one person make her feel like this? Like kicking and hugging him at the same time? He disgusted her, and she wanted nothing to do with him. But at the same time… she couldn’t bear the thought of being without him.

“How tall are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Lucky. How tall are you? I can never tell with those annoying platforms you have on.”

“Lucky?” she questioned, ignoring the comment about her beloved shoes.

“Yes, Lucky,” he responded, swinging his legs over the water now, in near perfect sync with Grace.

“How do you figure that?”

“You seem like a lucky person,” he shrugged.

She snorted. “You’re funny.”

“So they tell me.”

She gripped a loose stone in her palm, feeling its rough edges scratch her skin. “Unless you consider being a waitress in a small town lucky, I highly doubt it.”

“Come on, I’m sure your parents…”

“I don’t have any. They died two days before my eighteenth birthday.”

“Oh. Grandparents?”

She shook her head. “No grandparents, aunts, uncles, nothing; at least not around here. So don’t bother asking. I’m on my own and I’m doing just fine, if you’re wondering.” She threw the rock into the river.

“So where do you live?”

She shot him a look. “Isn’t it enough to know where I work?”

He threw his hands up in defense. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear.” He looked away from her, back down at the water. “I just really like you,” he said quietly.

Grace pretended she hadn’t heard him. He’d known her for less than a week, but then again, there was that whole ‘love at first sight’ thing.

But he didn’t say anything about love.

No, he didn’t. But she just did. Didn’t she?

“Five three.”

“What?”

“That’s how tall I am. Five feet, three inches.”

He smiled. “I knew it.”

She tried to suppress a grin that was sneaking its way to the top. “You did not.”

“I bet I could carry you.”

“Try it and die,” she threatened, but no venom was found in her voice.

They fell silent for a brief moment, staring contentedly over the trickling water below and breathing softly.

“You want to go out sometime?”

“Out?” she looked at him sideways and he stood up.

“Out,” he repeated.

She nodded. “When?”

“How about now?”

She stood as well. “Where to?”

“Does the lady have a preference?”

She thought for a minute, and then smiled. “Anywhere but the diner.”

He laughed. “This city’s got more than just that diner, Lucky. But before that, I have something for you.” He pulled a rose out from seemingly nowhere. Red, thornless, and as fresh as if it had just been picked mere seconds ago.

“Where’d you get this?” she asked, carefully taking the flower in her small hand.

“Does it matter?”

“No. but you didn’t know I’d agree to go on a date with you.”

“Yes I did,” he smiled that cocky grin that had quickly become his trademark.

Grace rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.”

“Come on, you can’t get enough of me.”

She rolled her eyes and began to walk off.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“You wanted to go out, didn’t you?” she called back behind her.

Eli smiled and ran to catch up.

 

Maybe attraction is choice, maybe it isn’t. In the grand scheme of things, does it make a difference in the matters of the heart?