Page 3 of A Little Bit Extra

Oh, fuck. I open my eyes and shift my body forward in the chair, my elbows finding their place on my knees, and my left hand instinctively moves to support my head. They don't want me for my acting. They want me to work there. It’s all coming back to me now. Late night, movie marathon, sleepy, too many snacks, coming across a random job opening.

“Tomorrow?” Sitting back up in the chair, I massage my temple with my thumb and pointer finger, moving them in slow circles. Extra time is not something I have, but I’ve always wanted to work at a big-name studio. Even when I was a teenager and just acting for fun, I dreamed of working at one. When I found out Lucy lived down the street from January Studios, it felt like fate. Fate and I might not mix, but I know Lucy would tell me otherwise and that I should take this call as a sign. This is the first time in five years that they have had a job I was qualified for and would work with my schedule. It could lead to something more than working at this diner.

“Yes, tomorrow morning at nine. Can you be here?”

“I can, yes.” I shift in the chair, crossing and uncrossing my legs. The weight of my schedule lays heavy in the pit of my stomach.

“Great. I’ll send you an email with some details! See you tomorrow!”

After exchanging our goodbyes, we end the call with a final click. The urgency to return to my tables leaves little room for deep reflection on the matter.

When I reach the front, I notice Emmett hasn’t left.

Lucy’s voice comes from my left as she enters an order into the register. “I checked your tables for you.”

I lean my back against the counter.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“Mhm. Who called?” Lucy turns and mirrors my position on the opposing counter.

“Remember that time we came home late from work last week and felt it was a great idea to watch a movie until 2 a.m.?”

Lucy nods, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“Well, you’re looking at the newest production assistant at January Studios.” With a shrug, I lift off of the counter, walking toward the half-door in the bar.

Lucy follows me, laughing at my impulsive self. “Goodness Cass, only you.”

She’s not wrong. I’ve made countless impulsive decisions. They don’t always involve a new job. Sometimes they’re ordering something we see on TV infomercials, giving into the ads, other times it’s deciding to apply to foster a cat before remembering I’m allergic. And yes, these decisions happened after midnight when we were both too tired to think straight. I had a hard time remembering that actions led to consequences. That’s what happened with the production assistant job. I thought it’d be fun to work there. Maybe I’d get to see a few films being made, maybe meet some people, make some more friends, who knows? I submitted the application and went immediately to sleep and didn’t think about it again until tonight.

I glance around the dining room, prepared to go check on Emmett and his date, but he’s sitting by himself. I stride over to him, notepad in hand, giving myself something to fidget with when I feel uncomfortable. He doesn’t make me uncomfortable, it’s the situation. The thoughts in my head telling me he’s just smiling to be nice or the sudden feeling of how tight my shirt is in all the wrong places.

“How is everything?” I ask as I approach, choosing to stand next to the empty side of the booth. It’s the farthest I can be away from him without looking strange.

Emmett glances up at me from his phone. As he smiles, a warm flutter washes over my chest. I remind myself he is off-limits because of his girlfriend, or date, or partner, or whomever was taking space in this booth a bit ago.

“You’re back.” He drops his mouth open and nervously chuckles. “I mean, the other server was great. Everything is great. The food is great.”

Awkwardly laughing back, I say, “Great.”

I stare at him for a moment too long and search his face to remember why I came over to his table. My body feels like a furnace. His eyes dance over me, and our gazes eventually meet, but not before I catch him biting his lip. Biting back something he wanted to say, perhaps?

As if the universe senses I need help, the sound of Lucy calling my name travels across the dining room, breaking the trance.

In a swift motion, I break our eye contact and look toward the bar, where Lucy’s raised eyebrows meet my gaze. My eyes move to my notepad, where I had previously scribbled Emmett’s order. Right. The last step of the routine, the check. Without shifting my focus, I ask the question. “Are you ready for the check?”

“Actually, would you like to join me?” His question prompts me to look up, and I find him gesturing toward the empty seat in front of him. The same seat his date had been sitting in.

I glance back and forth between him and the empty bench next to me. A million questions race through my mind. The main two: was he not on a date and is he actually flirting with me?

“Oh, Marcy left.” That’s all he says, as if I’m supposed to know who Marcy is and why she was at the diner with him. Nope, not going to ask. It’s too early to take a break. I have too many tables to tend to. I can’t succumb to the tempting chemistry between us tonight.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, feeling a mix of flattery and frustration. “I’m working right now, so I can’t.” I steal a quick look at the bar and then back at him, hoping he’ll understand.

“Oh, right,” he laughs. His eyes briefly flicker to his plate. “Well, I’ll take the check then, Cassie. Thank you.”

Biting back a smile, I sense a blush creeping up my cheeks, radiating heat. I quickly nod and pivot to walk to the bar.

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