Chapter 12 Frustrated

Bea:

My cheeks had been sore from smiling for a while now. And of all things, that guy had decided to sit near the counter. He had been making me awkward with his constant staring. Even if I didn't look directly at him, I could definitely feel his gaze in my peripheral vision!

I sighed and tried to return to my serious demeanor. My jaw ached from all the smiling; I might need to get it checked when I get home.

As I busied myself, I glanced at the bracelet on my wrist. I almost forgot about it. Since I probably wouldn't see its owner again, I figured this bracelet would stay with me.

"If I ever see you again, I hope I can explain why I was there at that time," I muttered to myself.

"You're spacing out," Mathew said, snapping his fingers in front of my face.

I turned to look at him in surprise.

"Is it still about the bracelet? It's been a while; I'm sure the owner won't remember it. Do you think they care about such things?" Mathew said, resting one arm on the counter.

"Maybe," I replied curtly.

"And besides, it's just a small—" Mathew couldn't finish his sentence as Marco approached us. His eyes were unusually gloomy as he stared at me. I couldn't figure out what was going on with him.

"One chocolate pudding and a chocolate drink, for takeout," he said and returned to his seat.

Mathew and I exchanged glances. I peeked at his table, and he was glaring at me, arms and legs crossed!

What did I do to deserve this? Why was he glaring at me like that?

Minutes passed, and when Marco's order was ready, Mathew brought it to him.

"He said he wants you to deliver this," Mathew whispered to me.

Why me?

"Why should I? And you actually believe him?" I asked Mathew.

"Come on, look at him. He's sizing you up like you're not going to see the light of day tomorrow. Who wouldn't follow his request?" Mathew responded.

I took Marco's order from Mathew and approached his table. "Is there something wrong with your order, sir? I'm sure I heard correctly when you requested a takeout. Let me review your order: one chocolate pudding and one chocolate drink, for takeout. Is there something wrong with what I said? You asked for the staff who prepared your order to come back."

He stared at me for a moment and then smirked in disbelief. "How could you forget? Never mind," he said, running his hand through his hair, trying to restrain his frustration.

"There's nothing wrong with my order. I just wanted the cashier to hand it to me. Is that so wrong?" he asked.

I looked at him, incredulous. "I'm the cashier. We have servers here. If you have a problem with them, you should speak to the manager. You can't just order us around when we've already done our jobs."