Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Lasting Impressions
Author's Note: This is totally unrelated to the story, but I learned how to swing dance today. Twas FUN.
I randomly checked the main page for this story and saw that I had ratings on some of the chapters! A HUGE thanks goes out to everyone who rated!
somethingorother: Chloe will take some convincing, but she'll come around. Maybe ;)
Tissamy: Hehe. I'm flattered. No one has ever described my writing as "stellar." Yet again, your review is evidence of why I dedicated this story to you. Thanks!
lovetah: Oh yes. Getting Chloe to believe that he's legit will take a lot of convincing.
HellOnHigh9: Yep. Alex and Chloe are moving along.
So the story goes...
Artful dodger.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I took off my plastic nametag.
Although it doesn’t seem very difficult, waiting tables is a delicate science. If you want tips, you have to be cheerful, but not so much that the customers dismiss you as a fake bitch who is trying too hard.
In addition to this, the art of subtle flirtation also came into play. If you did it right, a guy who randomly came in for a sandwich could become a restaurant regular who uses $20s to pay for meals that cost $8.75. On the other hand, turning on the charm could result in creepy admirers who stick around and stare at you half an hour after they’ve finished their lunches.
And dealing with little kids? That was a whole different story. At Barnaby’s they were either running around playing tag between tables, unscrewing the tops of salt shakers, dropping their food on the floor, or throwing tantrums about their tater tots. Forget condoms. This was birth control.
“Alex is out there waiting for you,” Steph said, getting her purse out of her locker.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s sitting in a booth waiting for you to get off your shift.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, putting on my coat. Just when I thought I was done dealing with bullshit…
“What’s up? Is he fighting with Jack or something?”
“No,” I sighed. “He’s convinced that he’s falling for me.”
“And that’s a problem because?”
“He only thinks that when he’s inebriated.”
“Well, apparently not. He looked pretty sober out there.”
“Please. You were probably too busy swooning over him to notice whether or not he was wasted.”
“Give me some credit, Chloe. I’m not that bad,” she retorted. “…But the boy is cute.”
“Glad you think so. Could you take him off my hands?”
“Wish I could, girlie, but you’re the one he’s waiting for.”
As I rolled my eyes, Steph patted my back and chuckled. It sucks when your friends don’t take you seriously. And It sucks even more when there’s nothing you can do about it.
In efforts to avoid the aforementioned singer, I used the back exit and headed straight to my car. He must have spotted me through the window, because I hadn’t even made it to the parking lot before I heard his voice.
“Hey, Chloe, wait up!”
Despite his call, I kept walking. To my dismay, instead of taking my hint, his footsteps sped up.
“Didn’t you hear me?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I’m busy. I have 3 papers I need to write for tomorrow.”
Lame excuse, I know, but it’s the best I could come up with on the spot.
“Oh. Well, can I call you up later so we can talk about what went down yesterday?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Alex. You were drunk. You weren’t thinking clearly. It’s fine,” I said, picking up my pace.
“I wasn’t drunk--”
“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England.”
“As I was saying, I wasn’t drunk when I said that I had feelings for you.
“I’ve really gotta go,” I dismissively replied, unlocking my door. “We can talk about this later.”
Without giving him time to answer, I got into the driver’s seat and closed the door behind me. Then I quickly pulled out of my parking spot, not bothering to buckle my seatbelt.
Was it incredibly rude? Yes.
Was it ridiculously pussy? Yes.
Did it need to be done? Yes.
When I finally reached my apartment, I breathed a sigh of relief.
No more customers to please. No more traffic to deal with. No more Alex Gaskarth.
With these thoughts in mind, I flopped onto my couch and turned on the television.
"Your mother reads your mail?"
“Yeah."
"What do you mean, like postcards?"
"Oh, anything."
"She doesn't open."
"She'll open."
Screw Everybody Loves Raymond and King of Queens. Seinfeld is where it’s at.
"You've caught your mother opening envelopes?" "Yes."
"What does she say?"
"I was curious."
"Isn't that against the law?"
"Maybe I can get her locked up."
As the 90’s sitcom continued, my stomach grumbled. After being surrounded by food for 5 hours, I wasn’t in the mood to cook anything, so I made myself a PB&J.
Then just as I sat down, my phone started ringing.
“Can’t I eat in peace?” I muttered to no one in particular. Before setting my plate down, I took a bite, and grabbed the phone from the receiver.
“Ehwo?” I asked, with a mouthful of sandwich.
“Hey, Chloe. It’s Mike.”
“Oh,” I replied, swallowing my food. “What’s up?”
“Just wondering if my favorite Barakat is up for a party tomorrow night.”
“Is a Skyy vodka bottle blue?”
He chuckled at my comment.
“Sweet. Swing by around 10. And could you tell Jack and Alex to spread the word?”
In my head, I asked ‘do I have to?’ but the word “Sure” escaped from my lips instead.
“Alright, thanks. See you tomorrow!”
“Bye.”
Alex was at my job. Now he’s going to be at the party. Next he’s gonna--
“Come on, come on, come on. You know you’ve gotta. Come on, come on, come on. And celebrate ‘cause we are together, made for each other. We can stand alone. And now no one can touch us…”
I picked up my cell and rolled my eyes upon reading the screen.
Jesus Christ.
Alex Gaskarth does not know when to give up.
+++++
REVIEWS = LOVE.
Ratings points are nice, too.
;)
I randomly checked the main page for this story and saw that I had ratings on some of the chapters! A HUGE thanks goes out to everyone who rated!
somethingorother: Chloe will take some convincing, but she'll come around. Maybe ;)
Tissamy: Hehe. I'm flattered. No one has ever described my writing as "stellar." Yet again, your review is evidence of why I dedicated this story to you. Thanks!
lovetah: Oh yes. Getting Chloe to believe that he's legit will take a lot of convincing.
HellOnHigh9: Yep. Alex and Chloe are moving along.
So the story goes...
Artful dodger.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I took off my plastic nametag.
Although it doesn’t seem very difficult, waiting tables is a delicate science. If you want tips, you have to be cheerful, but not so much that the customers dismiss you as a fake bitch who is trying too hard.
In addition to this, the art of subtle flirtation also came into play. If you did it right, a guy who randomly came in for a sandwich could become a restaurant regular who uses $20s to pay for meals that cost $8.75. On the other hand, turning on the charm could result in creepy admirers who stick around and stare at you half an hour after they’ve finished their lunches.
And dealing with little kids? That was a whole different story. At Barnaby’s they were either running around playing tag between tables, unscrewing the tops of salt shakers, dropping their food on the floor, or throwing tantrums about their tater tots. Forget condoms. This was birth control.
“Alex is out there waiting for you,” Steph said, getting her purse out of her locker.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s sitting in a booth waiting for you to get off your shift.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, putting on my coat. Just when I thought I was done dealing with bullshit…
“What’s up? Is he fighting with Jack or something?”
“No,” I sighed. “He’s convinced that he’s falling for me.”
“And that’s a problem because?”
“He only thinks that when he’s inebriated.”
“Well, apparently not. He looked pretty sober out there.”
“Please. You were probably too busy swooning over him to notice whether or not he was wasted.”
“Give me some credit, Chloe. I’m not that bad,” she retorted. “…But the boy is cute.”
“Glad you think so. Could you take him off my hands?”
“Wish I could, girlie, but you’re the one he’s waiting for.”
As I rolled my eyes, Steph patted my back and chuckled. It sucks when your friends don’t take you seriously. And It sucks even more when there’s nothing you can do about it.
In efforts to avoid the aforementioned singer, I used the back exit and headed straight to my car. He must have spotted me through the window, because I hadn’t even made it to the parking lot before I heard his voice.
“Hey, Chloe, wait up!”
Despite his call, I kept walking. To my dismay, instead of taking my hint, his footsteps sped up.
“Didn’t you hear me?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I’m busy. I have 3 papers I need to write for tomorrow.”
Lame excuse, I know, but it’s the best I could come up with on the spot.
“Oh. Well, can I call you up later so we can talk about what went down yesterday?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Alex. You were drunk. You weren’t thinking clearly. It’s fine,” I said, picking up my pace.
“I wasn’t drunk--”
“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England.”
“As I was saying, I wasn’t drunk when I said that I had feelings for you.
“I’ve really gotta go,” I dismissively replied, unlocking my door. “We can talk about this later.”
Without giving him time to answer, I got into the driver’s seat and closed the door behind me. Then I quickly pulled out of my parking spot, not bothering to buckle my seatbelt.
Was it incredibly rude? Yes.
Was it ridiculously pussy? Yes.
Did it need to be done? Yes.
When I finally reached my apartment, I breathed a sigh of relief.
No more customers to please. No more traffic to deal with. No more Alex Gaskarth.
With these thoughts in mind, I flopped onto my couch and turned on the television.
"Your mother reads your mail?"
“Yeah."
"What do you mean, like postcards?"
"Oh, anything."
"She doesn't open."
"She'll open."
Screw Everybody Loves Raymond and King of Queens. Seinfeld is where it’s at.
"You've caught your mother opening envelopes?" "Yes."
"What does she say?"
"I was curious."
"Isn't that against the law?"
"Maybe I can get her locked up."
As the 90’s sitcom continued, my stomach grumbled. After being surrounded by food for 5 hours, I wasn’t in the mood to cook anything, so I made myself a PB&J.
Then just as I sat down, my phone started ringing.
“Can’t I eat in peace?” I muttered to no one in particular. Before setting my plate down, I took a bite, and grabbed the phone from the receiver.
“Ehwo?” I asked, with a mouthful of sandwich.
“Hey, Chloe. It’s Mike.”
“Oh,” I replied, swallowing my food. “What’s up?”
“Just wondering if my favorite Barakat is up for a party tomorrow night.”
“Is a Skyy vodka bottle blue?”
He chuckled at my comment.
“Sweet. Swing by around 10. And could you tell Jack and Alex to spread the word?”
In my head, I asked ‘do I have to?’ but the word “Sure” escaped from my lips instead.
“Alright, thanks. See you tomorrow!”
“Bye.”
Alex was at my job. Now he’s going to be at the party. Next he’s gonna--
“Come on, come on, come on. You know you’ve gotta. Come on, come on, come on. And celebrate ‘cause we are together, made for each other. We can stand alone. And now no one can touch us…”
I picked up my cell and rolled my eyes upon reading the screen.
Jesus Christ.
Alex Gaskarth does not know when to give up.
+++++
REVIEWS = LOVE.
Ratings points are nice, too.
;)
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