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Chapter 4

Asya

"Here, only the best for George." I bring another plate of sausage gravy to the second booth, trying to smile at him more honestly. George is a nice guy, twice my age, and living in Nebraska.

"You're spoiling me." He laughs, but all I can give him is a fake grin and I walk away while my thoughts are still boiling with annoyance.

Looks like that arrogant idiot has already spoiled my day. Awesome! But honestly, is it so hard to be nice, just for once? Take a look at George, for example. Really, all it takes is pulling your head out of your ass.

I huff to myself and pointedly ignore the three brothers while taking note of George's order by the counter. It looks like they aren't going anywhere, already sitting on the stools by the counter. The younger ones are sitting quietly and looking around the diner, but the douchebag is staring out the window, probably waiting for Rorie. Well, I personally have no desire to talk to them or to offer any help at all, so I turn away and busy myself with other customers.

But after I check every booth and deliver every order from the kitchen, Rorie still isn't back from her break. So I gather the remnants of my politeness and positive spirit and return to the counter, lingering in front of the three.

"Are you going to order anything?" I ask, trying not to sound too pissed off—I am supposed to be nice to every customer, no matter how rude they are.

It doesn't really work, judging by the way the big guy quirks an eyebrow and gives me a once-over. He says nothing to me of course, staying true to his annoying attitude, and only turns to the other two. "Okay, Carter, do you—"

"Yes! Owen, come on, I'm hungry like a wolf." The youngest guy nudges him and laughs with such an open, cheerful spirit I can't help but feel warmer toward him. Looks like at least one of them knows how to behave in society.

The other two remain grim and only exchange quick glances before the big one, Owen, nods and mutters,

"Alright, then." He turns to me, finally. "Give us a free table."

"What about 'please'?" I say without a thought to stop myself, realizing it only when Owen stares at me with a flat look. Well, whatever—they're here for Rorie, not the food and kind treatment—so I stare back at him and raise an eyebrow.

Of course, he's too big of a man to ask me about anything, so we just glare at each other for a moment until his brother, Carter, clears his throat and stands up. "Yeah, can we have a booth, please?"

Owen throws a displeased glare at him too, but the guy only shrugs nonchalantly. It's really not a big deal to be nice, right? So I smile at him. "Yes, sure. The fourth one is free." I pointed at the booth and gestured for them to follow me, picking up two menus from the counter on the way.

"Is there anything you'd like to order now?" I ask, deliberately avoiding Owen and talking mostly to his youngest brother.

"No, not for me. Maybe coffee for Gray?" Carter turns to the quiet one by his side, a questioning tilt to his voice, and Gray nods and looks at me.

"Yeah, Americano for me. Thanks."

"No problem." I smile and turn to Owen, unable to control the silent accusation in my eyes. So he's the only one who doesn't know how to behave, huh? And the oldest one at that.

He doesn't look at me at first, but when my gaze lingers Owen looks up as well—and scowls when our eyes meet. Whether he understands the meaning behind my look or simply doesn't like me, Owen's gaze turns colder, the line of his jaw tensing up. Our mutual annoyance buzzes through the air and I tilt my head, urging him to hurry up.

"Nothing for me," he finally says with a grumbling note, and I turn to the other two right away, smiling just a little too forcefully.

"Let me know when you're ready."

I leave them with two menus and walk away, still feeling electrified from the pure frustration of it all. It's been a while since we had such an insufferable douchebag in here. Of course, bad customers show up every now and then—but Owen isn't just rude and stupid. I can see that he's collected, confident, and even nice with his brothers. It's me who he doesn't want to take seriously—and maybe that's exactly what pisses me off. Because I've seen it all too many times.

While the coffee machine is working on Gray's order, Rorie finally comes back in—I call her over in a whisper before she even takes a step into the staff room. She frowns in confusion and walks over when I beckon her closer. I glance at the fourth booth, trying to be discreet, but Owen is already watching us with alarm.

"Hey, the three guys at the fourth table," I explain as soon as Rorie comes close enough to hear, "they're looking for Abel."

"Abel?" Rorie frowns and turns to look at them. I do too, and catch all three of them talking over the table.

As if sensing our gazes, Owen instantly perks up and raises his gaze back to us. It lingers on Rorie, and after a moment he gets up to come closer. Rorie only glances at me, and I pick up Gray's coffee and follow her to their table.

"Rorie?" Owen asks cautiously as soon as she comes closer, and I purse my lips. So he can be polite when he wants.

"Yes." Rorie is cautious with him though, and I'm glad to hear it—he doesn't look like a person I would trust right away.

But there's no reason for me to stay after I put the coffee on the table—Gray nods at me, and I take it as a thank you—so I leave before they have the time to continue. The pause is so obvious though, so I feel a little like they're waiting for me to leave. But what, Rorie too?

It spikes my interest, and I keep stealing glances at them while I circle around the diner as discreetly as possible. These three don't look very friendly—okay two, Carter is nice—and I can't help but feel nervous for Rorie. She's only two years younger than me, but I've always been a little protective of her. What if Owen is gonna be rude to her too? And what on earth do they want from Abel?

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