Beautiful Rose by Missy Johnson Page B

giving me the willies.
    I walked over to the balcony to check the lock, and closed the drapes. Then I made my way over to the fridge and poured myself a juice. It was so late, and I had to start work at the diner in a few hours. I'd considered calling in sick, but there was no I could do that on my first day. Leaving the living room lights on, I stumbled down to the bedroom.
    Pulling back the covers, I climbed in. Instant relief. This was so much better than sleeping in my car. I flicked off the lamp and lay there in the semi darkness, trying to block the thoughts in my head, my parents, therapy, Alex . . . and Jack.
    Jack .
    I didn't even know where to start with him. I knew I felt something, and sometimes I thought he did too, but then he'd act in a completely different way. He was stubborn, sure of himself and extremely private but then I'd see glimpses of this sensitive, sweet guy who cared about others. And those moments made my heart race.
    Maybe it was all in my head, all those little moments we shared. Like tonight, when he’d touched my back. Did he seem jealous that Luis had been flirting with me? I'd snuck glances at him before he came over, and he looked angry.
    Why did he get to me so badly when I wasn't even interested in a relationship with anyone right now? Or ever. God, I couldn't even handle friendships. Most of my friends had deserted me over the years following my suicide attempts, and those who hadn't I'd pushed away in fear of them getting too close to me. Admitting I was attracted to someone was a huge step for me. Making a move would be near impossible.
    All my life I'd felt like everything was an act. Nothing was real. I felt like I was forever putting on a front, pretending everything was perfect. Why did I feel like that?
    The only things that made me feel like I had a place in this world were my songs. Some days, all I did was sit holed up in my room, writing song after song. As creepy as it was, I'd even written and recorded a series of songs for my funeral.
    How fucking morbid was that?
    I slowly drifted off to sleep, ignoring the pool of tears forming on my pillow.
    * * *
    Getting up at seven for my first shift at the diner was hell, but by halfway through I was surprised to find that I was enjoying myself. According to Reena, most of the people who came in were workers from around the area, which meant we got a lot of professionals in. Occasionally I’d end up out front waitressing when things got really busy.
    I spent most of my time out back, helping to prep the meals. Cooking was nothing new for me; I'd been preparing my own meals since I could remember. It was something I actually enjoyed. There was something therapeutic about starting and finishing something in a short amount of time.
    Reena and her family were nice, and since we were scheduled on for the same shifts I was looking forward to getting to know her. I was keen to push myself out of my comfort zone and make some friends. She was twenty, and had dropped out of college to help her mother after her father had died. She helped care for her six brothers and sisters; while also helping out at the diner.
    I filled the dishwasher as Reena came over with another stack of dishes. One good thing about this job was that time went relatively fast. “You were right,” I chuckled, “it does get busy in here.”
    Reena laughed. “See, I told you. We are one of the only cafes on this strip, so we get all the local workers coming in for their coffee fix. How are you enjoying it?”
    “It’s really good. I love that it’s pretty much non-stop. I think I’ll be quite happy here, if you guys are willing to give me a shot.”
    “Don’t worry Rose, you’ve got the job.” She winked at me and picked up the two plates of pancakes waiting to go out. I stood there smiling like an idiot. Sure, it was just a part time job in a diner, but it felt good to finally be supporting myself.
    #
    After my shift, I went home and quickly changed into a