Eat Me

ChapterTwelve

I tossed and turned for the rest of the night, waking from the occasional nightmare. Had we just thrown years of friendship down the drain? From how fast Warren had escaped last night, it seemed that way.

As I awoke for the final time, that all-consuming feeling of dread had managed to swallow me, and I wanted nothing more than to sit under a blanket and mong out to sh*tty daytime television. But no, some of us had work to get to, and the rent wasn't going to pay itself.

After showering the leftover scent of Warren off my body, feelings of abandonment reared their ugly head. When the water temperature had turned icy, I knew I'd been drifting in and out of my thoughts for too long.

I readied myself to leave. Gradually, I was looking more alive than I had done yesterday and, with a little bit of make-up, I didn't feel so self-conscious about leaving the flat.

Atop the stoop, just beyond the main door to the building, was a familiar being, curled up and patiently waiting. For whom? I had no idea. But when the little fur ball noticed me locking the door, his fluffy face began rubbing against my leg with a noisy purr. The same cat who had broken into my flat only yesterday was back begging for attention.

I snuck a look at my phone to check the time. I couldn't leave without giving the cat some love, but I also couldn't risk being late for work after everything that had happened.

I sunk down on the stoop, reading a message that had come through minutes before. It was from Bev. Finally.

Bi*ch, you owe me dinner and drinks. Make it happen and I won't stay pissed at you for ghosting me :) X

I wanted to tell her about what happened between Warren and I, needing some outside input as to what went wrong so quickly. But above all, I wanted a friend. Being left hurt and confused by Warren, and almost being r***d and murdered by the guy from the club the other night fostered my already deep-seated anxieties - I say almost because who could say what had happened for certain between us, my memory was still fairly patchy. I needed reassurance that what had happened wasn't because of me. And on the off chance it was, then I wanted brutal honesty as to what I had done for it to all come crashing down like that - something only a friend would tell me.

I stroked away my problems on the fluffy being on my lap and arranged to meet her in the evening at a little Italian restaurant a short bus ride from my work. Luckily, in my locker I had left a spare pair of black skinny jeans and a grey, off-the-shoulder jumper.

***

The restaurant was heaving with customers come lunchtime. Another day, another member of staff who hadn't shown up to work. This time, though, we had Dillon, a new chef who was working his first shift, to take some of the slack. From the short introduction we'd shared when I'd arrived, I hadn't found out much about him. Recently, I'd made it a habit not to get to know the new starters until they had worked there at least a month. The majority had already left before then, so I didn't want to waste my time.

"Cassandra, right? Sorry, I'm still trying to remember everyone's names," Dillon asked, a genuine smile on his clean-shaven face. He appeared behind me in the stockroom as I was fetching some napkins. He towered over me in height, but his presence didn't feel threatening at all. Body wise, well, it was a given that he liked to work out, but he wasn't overly muscular. At least, he didn't look it in his chef whites.

"Everyone calls me Cassy or Cas," I returned the smile. When there wasn't a follow up question, or any words out of his mouth for that matter, I had to break the awkward silence. "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh right, sorry." New job jitters, I could tell. "I was wondering if you could show me where the prep knives are kept? Daz went out for a smoke and told me if I needed anything then to ask you."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I rolled my eyes and laughed.

"That he went for a smoke during a busy service or that he told me to go to you for help?" Dillon followed me out the stockroom and to the locked cupboard in the prep area. Since half the staff were no shows, Ian started locking up the knives until he could work out if they were dangerous or not - the staff, not the knives. He said he couldn't be too careful with so many people he hired at random going in and out of the kitchen. Although, I'm pretty sure it was because he was worried someone would steal the knives and sell them back to him, which wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

"Both." I responded. "The keys are kept over there in the blue roll dispenser." I pointed for him to grab them and bring them to me.

"Wow, seems a bit much to keep some knives locked away. Anyone here that I should be worried about butchering me to death?" This time it was his turn to laugh, and I couldn't help but join in. His laugh was infectious.

I unlocked it and passed him the knife and the keys. "Make sure to lock it back up when you're done, or it'll be me you'll have to watch out for with the knives," I smirked at him.

"Yes maam." I could hear the smile in his voice as I turned to leave.

I'd hoped that he'd last longer than a month. He was growing on me already.

***

I had just changed out of my work gear and topped up my make-up with a little added red lipstick to go meet Bev for dinner. She had texted already to let me know she would be there soon, so I needed to get a wiggle on. As I was leaving, Dillon too was finishing his shift. His previously smooth face was already sporting stubble, and he had changed into a motorcycle jacket with a helmet tucked under his arm.

"You look nice, going somewhere special?" He asked, making conversation as we walked out the front doors together.

"Meeting a friend for dinner actually, which of course I'm late for." Bev wouldn't be happy I was late again. "Stick around long enough, Dillon and you'll come to see that being late is in my blood," I laughed.

He stared at me for a minute and then nodded to his motorbike parked a few feet away. "Need a ride?"

As sweet as the gesture was, deep down he was hoping I would decline, which I most definitely was going to. That is, right before he cut into my thought process with, "come on, I've got nowhere better to be. Besides, you've already said you're late. Hop on." He gestured for me to follow him to his bike, but my feet were rooted to the ground.

The pros were that I'd make it to the restaurant probably before Bev if I left with him. But the cons, well, I hadn't known him for more than a couple of hours and my encounters with new men over the last few days hadn't been normal.

Without warning, the shiny, black motorbike helmet he had been previously holding flew towards me, and I surprised myself by catching it before I even saw it coming.

"Sh*t, I could have dropped it!" I screeched. It's not like I had the funds to replace it.

"No sweat, I've got a spare back at my place. Now, time's pressing on Cas, are you coming or not?"

F*ck it.

I gave Dillon the address and hopped on the back, clinging to his waist. Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead on such a noisy monstrosity, but watching the world whizz past us in a colorful blur gave me a comfort I wasn't expecting.

Promptly, we pulled up outside the white building, the seating outside empty in the chilly evening breeze. My body still rattled with the vibrations from the bike, and I'd happily have skipped dinner and just kept riding.

The engine shut off, and I removed my helmet, praying that my hair wasn't all kinds of f*cked up.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" Dillon turned his head to face me. He only had one helmet, and I was thankful he let me wear it.

"I won't lie to you, I actually liked it." And I did. Not that I'd be heading out to get myself a bike or anything.

"Oh wow, that sounded like it pained you to say," he smirked. "If you need a ride back later, gimme a call." He pulled out his phone and waited for me to do the same.

"You don't have to do that." I hesitated before unlocking my phone and handing it to him to put his number in. He was the new guy at work. Firstly, I didn't want him getting any wrong ideas about me, and secondly, I didn't want him to think I was taking advantage of him by getting him to chauffeur me around town.

"I know I don't have to, but I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to." He handed me back my phone with his number saved as 'The new guy', which made me chuckle. "I'm not from around here, and you seem like a sound person." He put his hands up in surrender. "Don't worry, I'm not hitting on you if that's what you're thinking," an awkward laugh escaped him.

"If I agree to let you pick me up later, will you stop rambling?" His awkwardness was a little bit sweet, but I could see he had word vomit and the poor guy couldn't stop himself.

"You're asking me to pick you up later? Jeez, clingy much."

Gently, I punched him in the arm. This guy thought he was a bloody comedian. Albeit, he did have me laughing more in a couple of hours than I had in weeks... Damn, now I was actually a little disappointed he wasn't hitting on me.