Bite If You Dare

Chapter 1

Annie's POV

I wiped down the counter one last time, my apron heavy with the lingering scent of coffee and fried food. The lunch rush was in full swing at Tim’s Diner. I glanced at the clock — 12:05 p.m.

Customers came and went in waves: students, office workers, even the construction crew from next door. The diner pulsed with noise — the clatter of silverware, the hiss of the grill, and a chorus of overlapping voices. Waitresses weaved between tables, trays balanced expertly, shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor.

“Annie, table three needs a refill.”

“On it.” I grabbed the nearby thermos and topped off the elderly couple’s coffee.

“Annie, table five needs cleaning.”

“Coming.” I scraped the leftover food onto one plate, stacked the dirty dishes, and wiped the table clean for the next guests.

“Annie, mind taking table two’s order?”

“Sure.” I pivoted toward the booth, pen and pad in hand.

A couple sat across from their two daughters, all of them scanning the menu. I offered a warm smile. “Hi there, welcome to Tim’s Diner. I’m Annie. What are we feeling today?”

The woman on the left looked up. “We’ll have the garlic chicken, eggs and bacon special, and—” she turned to her husband, “—what about you, honey?”

“I’ll have the same, if that’s alright,” he said with a polite smile.

I jotted it down and turned to the girls.

“Strawberry milkshake,” said one, eyes glued to her phone.

“Chicken Caesar salad,” said the other, popping her gum. “Make that two.”

“Got it. So just to confirm: two garlic chicken, eggs and bacon specials, two Caesar salads, and one strawberry milkshake?”

“Yup, that’s it.”

“Alright, coming right up.” I turned and headed for the kitchen window, order slip in hand.

Waiting for the order I kept myself busy by cleaning nearby tables and arranging menus. A familiar ting of the order bell, announcing, "Table two, order ready." followed by more ringing, I hurry up and pick up the tray to bring to their table.

“Busy afternoon, huh?” the woman said as I handed over their meals.

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “This is nothing. You should see us during Griddlefest. People line up before sunrise for the pancake tower challenge.”

The husband chuckled. “Griddlefest? That sounds intense.”

“Oh, it is. We had a guy eat twenty-two pancakes last year. We had to roll him out.”

They laughed, and I turned to grab the rest of their order. Balancing two iced teas and a milkshake, I spun around — and collided with someone I hadn’t seen coming.

The tray jolted. One of the iced teas tipped, splashing cold liquid across the front of a man’s crisp white shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I gasped, reaching for napkins. “Please, let me get that for you—”

He stepped back, face twisted in irritation. “Are you kidding me? This shirt costs more than your weekly paycheck!”

“I—I didn’t see you, I—”

“Clearly,” he snapped, dabbing at the stain with exaggerated disgust. “Maybe try watching where you’re going instead of playing waitress-of-the-month.”

The diner seemed to hush around us, just for a moment. I felt my cheeks burn, the tray trembling slightly in my hands.

“I’ll get you a towel,” I said quietly, already moving toward the counter.

Behind me, I heard the woman from table two mutter, “Some people just wake up looking for a fight.”

Before he could spit out another insult, Dale appeared from behind the counter. His voice was calm but firm. “Sir, that’s enough.”

The customer turned, bristling. “Do you know what she’s done? This shirt is ruined!”

Dale didn’t flinch. He stepped closer, his presence steady, authoritative. “I understand you’re upset, but yelling at my staff isn’t going to fix your shirt. Annie already apologized. Let me take care of this.”

The man scoffed, dabbing at the stain. “Take care of it? You think a towel is going to—”

“Sir,” Dale cut in, his tone sharper now, “we’ll cover your dry cleaning. But if you continue to harass my waitress, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

The diner seemed to hold its breath. The man’s bravado faltered under Dale’s steady gaze. He muttered something under his breath, but finally sat down, still blotting at his shirt.

Dale turned to me, his expression softening. “You alright, Annie?”

I nodded, though my hands still trembled. “Yeah… thanks.”

Dale placed a steady hand on my shoulder, his voice calm but firm.

“Why don’t you take a break first, Annie? I’ll handle this.”

Relief washed over me, and I nodded, slipping toward the back as Dale turned to face the irate customer.

Dale had been running Tim’s Diner for nearly fifteen years, and he carried himself with the kind of quiet authority that made people listen. He wasn’t tall or imposing, but there was something about his presence — the way he stood his ground, the way his words carried weight without needing to be loud. His salt-and-pepper hair was always neatly combed, his sleeves rolled up, and his apron spotless no matter how chaotic the rush got.

To the regulars, Dale was more than a manager. He was the anchor of the diner, the one who remembered your order before you sat down, who slipped extra fries onto a kid’s plate, who knew when to step in before things got ugly.

I slipped into the backroom, the door swinging shut behind me. The noise of the diner dulled to a muffled hum, replaced by the buzz of the fluorescent light overhead. My legs felt heavy, so I dropped onto the bench by the lockers, apron still damp from the spill. I pressed my palms against my knees, trying to steady the tremor in my hands.

“Rough one?” Hannah’s voice pulled me back. She was perched on the edge of the bench, her locker door wide open, digging for a fresh hair tie. When her eyes met mine, they softened.

I let out a shaky laugh. “You could say that. I just baptized a guy’s shirt with iced tea. He wasn’t exactly forgiving.”

Hannah snorted, leaning back against the lockers. “Figures. Some people act like a splash of tea is the end of the world. Don’t let him get to you.”

“I know,” I murmured, staring at the scuffed linoleum. “It’s just… everyone was watching. I felt like I was on display.”

She nudged my shoulder. “Hey, you’re human. Mistakes happen. Dale’s got your back, and so do I. Besides, you should’ve seen me last week — dropped an entire tray of fries right in front of a birthday party. Kids thought it was hilarious. Parents, not so much.”

That pulled a smile from me. “Thanks, Hannah.”

“Anytime,” she said, snapping her locker shut. “Now breathe, take five, and when you’re ready, we’ll tackle the rest of the shift together. You’ve got this.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and answered quickly.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, trying to sound lighter than I felt.

“Annie,” her voice was warm but thin, followed by a cough. “Are you coming home early tonight? I thought maybe we could have dinner.”

My chest tightened. “I don’t know yet. It’s been crazy here. Dale told me to take a break, but I’ll try.”

Another cough rattled through the line. “Don’t push yourself too hard, sweetheart. Just… let me know.”

“I will,” I promised softly. “And please, take it easy, okay?”

Across from me, Hannah’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, sighed, and stood. “That’s Dale. I’m being called back in. Guess break time’s over for me.” She gave me a quick smile. “Hang in there, Annie. I’ll cover the floor until you’re ready.”

I nodded, watching her slip out the door, leaving me alone in the hum of the fluorescent light and the sound of Mom’s uneven breathing on the other end of the line.