After what felt like eternity trapped in a pit of tension and judgmental stares, Pearl finally gathered the last of their orders. Her hands trembled slightly as she bowed, clutching the tray like a lifeline. Without waiting for any insults or comments, she spun around and headed toward the kitchen, her shoes almost slipping on the polished floor.
As soon as she crossed the threshold, Sandy her overly concerned colleague rushed to her like a paramedic arriving at a crash scene.
"How was it? They didn't give you a hard time, right?" Sandy asked, her eyes scanning Pearl's face.
Pearl gave a tight, fake smile, the kind that screamed don't ask, and nodded silently before turning away. Her pride was too fragile to speak.
By the time the meals were plated and ready, she had plastered a fake professionalism back onto her face. The tray felt heavier than it should, but she carried it out with mechanical grace.
Leo the one with thick, unruly curls, a jawline sculpted like sin, and a devil-may-care attitude that clung to him like cologne. He didn't even glance at Pearl. No acknowledgment. Nothing.
His AirPods were in. He was scrolling, chewing gum, and smirking at something on his phone.
Pearl placed each plate carefully, praying the tray wouldn't betray her with a wobble. She bent slightly, setting down the pasta just as Sasha's fork clinked against the porcelain.
Then it happened.
Sasha pushed the plate back, eyes narrowing.
"What the hell is this?"
Pearl straightened slowly, confused. "That's the creamy seafood pasta with pepper sauce just as you ordered—"
"I SAID NO PEPPER!" Sasha's voice cracked like thunder. Heads turned. A spoon dropped somewhere across the room.
"But ma'am, you clearly said pepper—"
"Are you mad?" Sasha snapped, eyes gleaming. "Did I stutter when I ordered? Or are you just too dumb to listen?"
Pearl froze. Her throat tightened.
The other four laughed, Leo shaking his head like he felt sorry for her.
"You see these girls that mix school with roadside jobs?" Kian, the tallest of the boys, chuckled. "Always tired, always slow. Now she's hearing voices."
Sasha was already standing. She picked up the tequila shot pearl barely had time to flinch.
With a cruel smile, Sasha poured the entire shot over Pearl's head, drenching her in liquor and mockery.
"Congratulations," Sasha said with a smirk. "Now you smell like the hot mess you are."
A sharp gasp spread across the Cafe.
Pearl stood still. Her shirt clung to her body, tequila dripping from her hair to her neck. Her order pad was damp, ink bleeding like the shame in her chest. Her hands trembled.
But she didn't cry.
Not yet.
Instead, she turned slightly, walked back to the kitchen, remade the orders and returned, her hand steady this time, her eyes dim.
They didn't say much after that. The group, strangely quiet, paid their bill without touching a single thing. The untouched plates sat there like silent witnesses as they gathered their expensive bags, flipped their hair, and left the restaurant like nothing had happened.
By the time her shift ended, Pearl felt numb. She slipped into the bathroom, peeled off her stained uniform, scrubbed off the tequila, and changed into her plain clothes. Her reflection stared back at her a girl who had lost a bit more of her sparkle.
As she stepped out of the bathroom, she almost bumped into someone.
Leo.
He stood there with his hands in his pockets, eyes dark and unreadable. He said nothing no apology, no mockery. Just a short nod. Like she was invisible. Like she was an errand breeze.
Pearl blinked. No words. Just silence. She moved past him quickly.
She grabbed her bag from the cloakroom, stepped out of the café ... and paused. The sky was inky black.
Outside the restaurant, the night had deepened. The streetlamps buzzed faintly overhead, casting long shadows on the pavement. Pearl stood just under one, her back against the wall, fingers wrapped around her phone as she scrolled to Frederick's number.
She didn't hesitate. Frederick was home. He always picked her up when shifts ended late. He wasn't just a friend he was family.
Her thumb was about to tap *Call* when a shadow loomed beside her.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The voice was familiar. Lazy. Deep. Unbothered.
Pearl turned her head, slowly.
Leo.
Again.
His hoodie was up now, curls peeking from the sides, and he stood with the same arrogance that came naturally to boys born into too much money and not enough consequence.
She eyed him flatly. "What do you want?"
He gave a lazy shrug, as though her question was irrelevant. "You shouldn't be walking alone at night. I figured I'd offer you a ride."
"I'm fine," she replied sharply. "Frederick's on his way."
Leo's brows lifted slightly. It wasn't the rejection that stunned him it was who it came from.
*A waitress.*
A soaked, disrespected, clearly exhausted waitress. Who didn't even give him a second glance.
Interesting.
"Suit yourself," he muttered, but didn't leave. Instead, he leaned against the wall beside her, arms folded, a smirk ghosting his lips. "You always work this late?"
Pearl didn't answer. She kept her phone in hand, pretending to type something.
Leo tilted his head to look at her. "So what's your deal?"
"My deal?" she echoed, eyes narrowing.
"Yeah. You've got that 'I hate rich kids' energy. But you still work in a place full of them."
"I don't hate rich kids," she said coolly. "I hate entitled brats who think the world owes them something just because their daddies own a yacht."
He laughed. Genuinely this time. It was a soft chuckle, not mocking just surprised. "Touché."
Pearl didn't smile. "If you're done wasting time, I'd really rather wait for my ride in silence."
Leo glanced at her again, this time longer. Her jaw was tight, her eyes tired but sharp, and her presence wasn't something that could be ignored even when soaked in tequila and dressed in cheap cotton.
For some reason, that annoyed him.
He was used to girls who clung to his every word. Who leaned in. Who asked for his number before he even offered.
But this one? She just wanted him gone.
And that... stung.
"I'm Leo, by the way," he added after a beat, as if she'd asked.
"I didn't ask," she shot back.
Another blow. Direct. Merciless.
His smirk faltered for half a second before he shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're interesting."
"And you're wasting my time."
Leo straightened off the wall. "I'll see you around, *Waitress Girl*."
Pearl gave a short laugh under her breath. "God, I hope not."
Just as he walked off, a car pulled up—Frederic's. He leaned out the window, waving. "Pearl!"
She hurried off without another word, leaving Leo in the shadows still watching.
For the first time in his charmed life, Leo wasn't just intrigued.
He was *challenged*.
And he wasn't going to let her go that easily.
**
The silence in the car had barely settled before Frederick broke it — as usual.
"So… wanna tell me why you looked like a drowned cocktail when I picked you up?" he asked, glancing at her, one brow raised. "Because I swear, Pearl, if it's a new 'aesthetic', I'm scared."
Pearl didn't laugh. She just dragged her fingers through her damp hair and said, "I got baptized by tequila. Courtesy of Sasha Crestville."
Frederic slammed the brakes a little too hard for traffic's sake. "Wait— *what?!" His head whipped toward her. "Sasha? As in Sasha Naturals? As in THE Sasha from the Notorious Five?!"
Pearl gave him the driest stare known to mankind. "Yes, Fredrick. THE Sasha. She and her Crestville circus poured an entire shot on me like I was a bar floor."
"No freaking way!" he nearly squealed, smacking the steering wheel. "You met them?! I swear I'd kill for that kind of drama. I mean—Leo! Sasha! Kian, kiera,Theo? That's like the Instagram Avengers!"
Pearl blinked. "Did you miss the part where I said I got drenched?"
Frederick paused.
"Oh… right," he said, sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I kinda—uh—fangirled. Continue."
Pearl rolled her eyes. "There's nothing else. I remade their orders, they didn't eat a single bite, paid with a black card, and strolled out like they owned the air. Leo offered me a ride, by the way."
"Shut. Up." Frederic's jaw dropped. "*Leo* offered you a ride? Are you aware he doesn't even acknowledge half the population? Like, that guy barely blinks at professors."
"And I rejected him."
The car went quiet.
Frederic slowly pulled over, turned to her dramatically, and said, "Pearl, you are officially my spirit animal."
Pearl chuckled, then groaned. "He looked at me like I was a mystery he couldn't solve. Or an assignment he forgot to cheat on."
Frederick nodded, face suddenly serious. "Okay. That's it. I'm filing a complaint. First Sasha pours tequila on you, now Leo is trying to flirt? I'll tear them apart. I will break their Crestville cheekbones."
Pearl smirked. "You won't even lift a plastic spoon in a fight."
"Hey!" Frederick said with mock indignation. "I once punched Jason for cutting the lunch line."
"You tripped and landed on him."
"Details." He waved a hand. "Still brave."
Pearl leaned her head against the window, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. "I hate how they act like they're gods just because they were born rich."
Frederick's voice softened. "You're better than them, Pearl. Tequila-stained uniform and all."
She glanced at him, her chest warmer than before. "Thanks. Also… you owe me skewer and a therapy session."
Frederic grinned. "Already bought both. And I charge in hugs."
She groaned. "Gross."