Instincts - Chapter One

I got this idea from a very vivid dream. I replaced some characters and voila! We have a Nelena Story named "Instincts." So I hope you enjoy...


Selena’s POV

Why? I got good grades, volunteered, and did everything you expected from someone who received a full scholarship for her higher education. So why was I working as a busgirl in such a bizarre restaurant?

A restaurant that hosted everything from a birthday party to a funeral.

In a shopping mall.

Why couldn’t I get a better job; in an outlet store?

All those questions and thoughts ran endlessly through my mind, and I knew there was already an answer present. I wasn’t good enough for the other jobs. I didn’t have any of the clothes from where I desperately wanted to work at. I didn’t have a talent for advertising nor would I appeal to the customers. And I certainly didn’t have a sense of style. I was just Selena.

Sometimes, I envied Miley. She had a great job at Macy‘s, not to mention she received discounts by working there. As for me, I couldn’t even get a discount off of a glass of water. “Oh no, Selena. The food is already cheap enough here. Don‘t make me profit less than I already do,” replied my boss, Ian, with a creepy laugh the very first time I asked. I hated him. That’s why I always ate my lunch elsewhere. He was too cheap for an owner, deducting my salary. That wasn’t why though. I hated him partly because he conned me the very first day I worked. I would never forget that day, but it taught me a lot about people--that you can’t trust everyone.

Today I was cleaning tables before a funeral party was to begin. Why would anyone want to have a party for someone who just died? Why was it even called a party? Weren’t you supposed to mourn for the dead instead of celebrating it? I mean, that was what I did with my parents. But I knew I wasn’t in the position to state my opinion so I continued doing what I did.

The party turned out to be a mess. Nothing was broken or anything, but it certainly was not what I expected. People were crying in every corner I looked at. Well, the adults, that is. It made no sense to me why they were having a party in the first place, but that’s just how life was. Nothing was what we expected. The only good thing I got out of it was no one cared what I did. Normally in the birthday parties, people would complain about this and that. I was glad they only sat there and cried. I wasn’t trying to be mean or anything, but I didn’t need someone telling me I got the wrong drink for them or any of that other usual stuff.

I quickly went to each table and took away the empty plates, replacing them with new ones as well as refilling their drinks. On one hand was a load of dirty plates and on the other was a pitcher of water. I wanted to get rid of the load of plates as fast I could so I rushed over to the kitchen when all of a sudden, I lost my grip on the plates as I bumped into someone. That person held me upright with my shoulders, but I couldn’t save the plate; they crashed right into the ground and sharp ends flew everywhere. I was going to have to compensate for everything! As if I didn’t already have little money. I rolled my eyes thinking what Ian would say.

I leaned down and picked up as many pieces as I could before my boss would notice; he was still yelling at his cook for using the expensive brand of salt instead of the cheap one. “Great,” I mumbled sullenly as I pricked a finger on one of the pieces.

“Sorry,” a voice towering above me said, “I didn’t see you.”

“How could you not see?” I wanted to ask sucking my index finger, but when I looked up to see the owner of the voice, I saw something very strange. His appearance was normal alright; curly brown, normal height--I just couldn’t see his eyes. Why was he wearing sunglasses indoors? In a funeral party? I ignored him and continued picking up the pieces, throwing the ones I already had inside the pitcher.

But the boy was still beside me. “I just got Lasik eye surgery,” he said as if that explained everything.

I stayed quiet until he went on clarifying, “I can’t see anything yet’’ they wrapped these covers over my eyes. The sunglasses are just to cover up how weird they look.” He laughed quietly to himself before concluding, “my eyes aren’t supposed to be exposed to light.” Why was he laughing? Wasn’t he suppose to be mourning?

“Oh,” I said, leaning over to the other side to grab a broom.

I stood up sweeping the left over tiny pieces when I heard something peculiar come out of his mouth, “You smell incredibly nice.”

My eyes propped wide open. “O-kay?” I wasn’t sure if it was a compliment. It was kind of creepy, if you’d ask me.

“You’re like the perfect mix of peppermint and strawberry,” he continued even though this time, it made me blush. I was glad he couldn’t see. He leaned over to my hair and inhaled deeply. “Yes, perfect mix,” he repeated.

He extended his hand out while a small smile formed on his lips. “I’m Nick. You?”

“I’m--” I untangled my hand from the broom and placed it into his, when all of a sudden, someone dragged me by the shoulder into the back of the kitchen. Ian.

“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be chitchatting!” Ian pointed a finger at me. “I counted the plates you broke, there were over seventy.”

“I did not break seventy plates!” I argued. “We don’t even have fifty customers!”

“Don’t be using that tone at me,” he said a bit too loud. “I’m deducting a hundred and fifty dollars from your salary next month.”

My mouth dropped and I shot him back. “They’re not even worth that much money! How can thirty-five plates be worth over a hundred bucks?”

“I can show you the receipt, young lady.” He gave me a piercing look with his eyes.

“Then show me it,” I retorted staring him down. No way was I going to let him take away that much money from me. The money I worked hard to earn.

He turned immediately silent. “Either way, I can fire you for talking to me in that tone and not doing your job correctly.”

I couldn’t believe what I was going to do next. “Go ahead then. If you do, you’ll still owe me next month’s salary.” I untied my apron. “I don’t need to be working here anyway; it’s a lousy job with a lousy pay.” I slapped the apron on top of the kitchen counter, the cook giving me a confused look.

Ian’s eyes were enraged, but I just didn’t care. “I’ll be back tomorrow for the rest of my pay.” I walked out slamming the kitchen door, causing people to stare. I shrugged all thoughts away and headed toward the exit. Behind me, Ian was calling my name, babies were crying, and I was out of this job. Finally. How I was going to pay for my dorm expenses, I did not know. All I knew was I didn’t have to be bossed around anymore. And I was glad.

Nick’s POV

Who was that girl? I wished she had spoke more than one word to me at a time. The sad part was she would have--if I hadn’t made her drop her plates. Then, I would have at least known her name. Stupid me. Stupid eye surgery.

On the day right after I got rid of those covers, I went back to the restaurant. I didn’t even want to go back to that weird place. I mean, what restaurant would host funeral parties? That kind of course. I didn’t know Maggie that well--the old lady that died. I was only there because my dad was one of her students in college.

I was pulling up the entrance door to the mall, her smell still lingering in my mind. I had never smelled anything so strong before in my life. I hoped I would be able to see her again, no matter how sensitive my eyes were still. I wanted to take my sunglasses off, but every time I tried to, the light would send a jerk of pain to my brain. I never should have gotten that surgery; I should have stayed with my black frame glasses. I should’ve at least gotten contacts instead. Yes, contacts would have been less trouble. Why was I even babbling? God, that was how bad I had it in for that girl. This was unbelievable and crazy! I had never even heard her speak a sentence or seen how she looked so why was I feeling this way? I was like a flat tire; I knew this feeling wouldn’t go away until I met her. For real.

Maybe they rewired my brain when they zapped my eyes. Yes, that must be it. It was the same exact day I talked to her.

I push open the door, the bells signaling as I enter. I go up to the cash register. “Hi,” I greeted. “I’m looking for a girl?”

The guy with the name tag, “Ian” looked extremely annoyed. “There is no girl,” he answered not even looking at me. “No girl works here.”

“But last Saturday, I-I bumped into one. Her plates fell.” I told him all I remembered. Except for the part about her smelling nice, of course. I smiled meekly, waiting for his reaction.

Finally, he looked directly at me and answered. I impatiently waited for his answer. “No girl works here,” he said louder this time. “We don’t hire girls.”

“But--” I started.

“No girl is here!”

Either she was all a dream or this man was a complete psycho. I’m sticking with the second explanation. I didn’t even bother saying goodbye to Ian. I walked out the door and headed towards Starbucks.

I knew she existed; I just had to find her elsewhere now. And I hoped I would. Otherwise, I would remain empty; with nothing but the smell of strawberries and peppermint….