Sh!tShi7$hit!!! I’m sooo SOOO screwed!!!!

I shove my textbooks into my bag and leap out the door. There was no avoiding it: I was late for my shift. I sprint to catch the bus, only to have it visibly leave just seconds before I arrive. Another twenty minutes to wait..

...I am actually sooo ruined.

Defeated, I plop myself onto the bench and bury my face into my two palms, depressingly awaiting the next bus.

-

After exiting the bus, I enter a public washroom nearby to change into my uniform. Inside a stall, I frantically pull out a stuffed inside-out shirt, and a skirt pathetically caught between the pages of a textbook. I tug the black skirt up my legs, and button up a long-sleeved black blouse. Both pieces are stubbornly dressed in ruffles and wrinkles amidst my repeated attempts of smoothing them. Even though crumpled and loose near the waist, the black button-up now sets tightly against my chest....Well, at least the girls have finally grown bigger. From the bottom of my bag, I haul my makeup case and lean towards the washroom mirrors to apply whatever rushed makeup able to make me look a tad more decent.

Okay..pretty enough.. Pretty enough for a good change. Let’s just survive the torment, and do well today to make up for being late.

I walk into the restaurant with faint steps, but alas, I meet the infuriated gaze of my boss upon the timid entry.

“Heh...Hello...”

“One hour late. One. Entire. Hour. You already know what I could be feeling now. I can’t even yell at you, I’ll lose these customers THAT I HAVE BEEN SERVING ALONE!”

“..-- Aaaannnd you know?! That’s a whole hour that I’ll work overtime!! Hey? Heey? Okay, two hours?!”

“...And the dishes? Lock the restaurant too?”

“Ah......fine.. Okay..as long as I’m not fired.” It’s not like someone like me would have plans on a Friday night anyways.

“Hmph...you may have been late..but at least you’re accountable and responsible. Not like my immature son, and that other girl, Seolhwa… Anyways, get to work.”

-

I work as a server for a popular family restaurant. Demanding, extremely tiring and an endless supply of customers each day, but I enjoy every hour of it. Plus, the pay is extremely rewarding, at least, when I’m not late. But I’m not usually late, I desperately need the money to pay for my rent and university tuition. It’s okay, I’m happy. I work hard, but I’m happy. No pain, no gain..

No pain, no gain… I preach this motto everyday.

Yeah,,,

I hate my life.

However my reality may be, I blindy tie my hair up in a messy ponytail, and commence the manual labor that is my work shift.

-

If I were an athlete, I would probably dominate long-distance races, I think as I take a quick, futile gulp of water. Operating from table-to-table serving meals, side dishes, drinks, napkins, and bills for over two hours took quite the toll to my body. I take one last glance to observe the remaining few customers concluding their meals, which meant it was time to do the dishes. It’s over. Almost over. Just dishes to be done. Thirty more minutes and you can leave. If you finish quick enough, you can return to the dorm and still get seven hours of sleep.

There were thirty more minutes until close, but yet, to my unlucky dismay, a crew of guys loudly enter the restaurant. ...why ?!

“Welcome!” I greet with a bubbly, nasally, and evidently fake tone.

“Hey!! Can we get some beer here?!!?”

“Yes~” I run to the back of the kitchen to bring back all the beer that were supposed to be put away by now.., and distribute them to the table of five noisy boys.

“Soju! Soju! Get us some soju too!” Well, why didn’t you ask for that with the beer the first time around!?!??

“Yes~” I dart to the back once more to deliver the bottles of soju.

“Thanks, girl ! Okay boys, let’s get wasted!” Says one male in the pack.

Yes, yes, enjoy yourselves. Wow. What a bunch of boisterous, cocky and CLEARLY already drunk boys.

Too bad they’re all intensely hot.

I scan their branded clothing and luxury accessories from head to toe.

Too bad they’re also undoubtedly loaded. I wonder if they’re just as bold when they tip?

I head back to the kitchen to finish with the dishes, regularly interrupted by bothersome requests from the group.

-

“Bill!!!! We .. want ,, to give moneyyyyy!!” Drunk drunkards. I return the plates to the kitchen and follow suit by handing them their bill. As they scramble for money out of their pockets, I briefly clean the table using a cloth enclosed in one of my apron pockets. I lean forward to reach all corners of the table, and momentarily catch the view of one of the boys. He’s definitely one of the hotter ones...but why is he looking at me like that? Must be drunk, like the rest of them.

Once they pile all the bills for me to collect, I hastily bow.

“Thank you for coming! Goodbye!” Before I can walk back to the kitchen, I feel a hand on my arm. Not just a hand, but a hand grappled on to mine. Oh helllll no. I turn to see whose hand was responsible for this unwelcome embrace. That boy who kept looking at me??!

His grip was firm and tight around my wrist. Shocked, I twisted my arm off his to set it free from his hand. Is he actually that drunk or is just seriously an idiot!?? I started to glare at him. Am I in the mood to hand it to him today? I prepared my mouth to blurt explicit, derogatory swear words, but before I could, my mind inadvertently shifted to only his eyes. His eyes were a familiar gleaming of chestnut brown, and his singular beauty mark below on of his eyes were unique but strangely recognizable...I’ve definitely seen him before.

“...Do...do we know each-other?”, he apprehensively questions.

I read his eyes, his face once more. Something about him… is too familiar. It was at this point when I recognized this boy.  

Yes..I know him. I know him well enough to remember everything about him. How could I not, after all that we had done together?

I even remember your name.

Kang Daniel.