The last customer left, and I was clearing tables when Mom called out.
"Good work, thanks. You're done—make something and head up."
"Mm," I mumbled.
I'd helped through the busy stretch, then made a late lunch sandwich and retreated to my room. Finished eating and chilling, my phone buzzed—Mom, downstairs at the shop. Another "help out" call? I checked the screen.
'Emergency! Get down here NOW'
…This smells like trouble.
She'd just say "help" if it was that—goofy lines like this mean something dumb's brewing. So I shot back a vague 'Sleepy' to dodge.
Seconds later: 'Hot guy alert! HOT GUY ALERT! You'll regret missing this!'
She's dragged me down before for "eye candy" when a cool guy shows up, but… "Bad feeling," I muttered. My gut's usually right.
I tied my loose hair into a ponytail, grabbed the apron I'd tossed on the bed—knotting it looser than usual—and trudged downstairs. Opening the door from the house to the shop, I peeked in. "…Mom? For real?"
"Look, over there—young guy at the back booth, facing away. Go gawk up close. Here, water. Take his order—nab his number, sizes, girlfriend count too!" She shoved a tray with water and a towel at me.
Sure enough, a guy's back was at the booth. That hair, that build—I know him. It's him! Miyagi! Why's he here!? To mess with me after I ditched his hangout invite?
I'd deal alone, but with Mom here? Nope—once she knows we're buddies, she'll go nuts. Escape plan: pawn him off on her.
"…I'm good. You go, Mom—you love hot guys," I said.
"Helping the shop's enough filial duty. Go!" she insisted.
"Ugh," I groaned, stuck with the tray.
Fine—closing's soon. I'll shove food in his mouth and boot him before it gets messy. I marched to his table.
"What're you doing here?" I hissed.
"Huh? No 'welcome'?" He tilted his head, smirking.
"Don't wanna welcome you."
"Aw, I came to see cute waitress Natsuki-san. The one who'll do anything I say's been MIA—I'm sad," he pouted.
Annoying. That "anything" bit? Only for… that stuff, idiot! But he'll dig in till I play along—stubborn ass.
"…Welcome," I muttered.
"With a smile."
Goddamn it! "Welcome!" I barked, forcing a manic grin.
He beamed back. Shit—his face is good.
"Cute! You're gorgeous, Natsuki-san," he said.
"…Ugh," I faltered.
Sadist, pervert—but that hot face praising me? I'm weak. Too easy, I know—body's already his, heart's half-gone, and his flattery just feels too good to fight. Never telling him that—he'd gloat harder.
"So? Why're you really here?" I pressed.
"Just to ogle you. And eat," he said.
"Late for lunch, early for dinner."
"Stayed up watching TV, woke past noon."
"Nice life. What'll it be?"
He didn't even glance at the menu. "Toasted sandwich and coffee."
"Got it."
"You making it?"
"Told you—mine's not customer-grade. Mom'll handle it."
"Shame," he sighed.
"It's work. We don't serve amateur slop for cash," I snapped.
Not tough to make—I'm close to Mom's level. But her cooking's the shop's promise; my stuff's just "daughter's help"—different weight.
"That serious side of you? I like it," he said.
"…Shut up. Wait there," I grumbled.
"Yes, ma'am," he chirped.
Don't toss "like" around here! No one's around, but my face's burning—I can feel it. Damn it.