Realistic+Fiction+Story

"Allie, come help me make these mini tacos. The party's in full swing, you couldn't have gotten here a moment //too// late," Miss Shela calls as I enter the kitchen through the swinging door. I could tell the party was hopping by how difficult it was to maneuver myself to the back of the old Inn through the sea of slightly inebriated adults.

"Geez, if I had known everyone was going to be fashionably //early// I would have been here at 4:30..." I muse, snatching a frilly apron to string over my white dress.

"What, seeing my gorgeous face isn't enough to get you here on time?" a voice floats from the back room.

"Oh, sweetheart. You kill me. Stop being so darn funny," I sling the deadpan retorts in the direction of Roman's voice. Miss Shela gives a cackle as she hands me a tube of sour cream. I set to work beside my employer, dotting tiny bowl-shaped tortilla chips with the creamy white product before Miss Shela sprinkles them with shredded cheese. The older woman was the owner of, and the main cook for, the bed and breakfast joint I had snagged a summer job at. She was a jovial person, with a good sense of humor. She and her husband, Josh, made working here seem less like a job and more like a good time. Their combined humor made slow work days go by at terrific speeds.

"Hi, Allie!" Miss Shela's husband calls as he swiftly passes through the kitchen with a tray of raw chicken breasts.

"Hi, Mr. Rease," I greet him. Miss Shela hands me the tray of appetizers we had just finished preparing, and orders me to eat one of them.

"Always sample the food you're serving, so that when the guests ask what it is and how good it is, you can answer them," she tells me with a wink. I giggle as I take the tray from her. She probably says that every time she hands me a platter of her latest creation to serve. I hold the tray against my hip as I munch into the tortilla chip filled with salsa, tiny scraps of lettuce, sour cream, and shredded cheese. I nod my approval to Miss Shela before using my rear to open the swinging kitchen door.

I make circuits around the crowded, high-class establishment, smiling and offering my delicious appetizer to the well-dressed guests that fill the greeting room and the music room. I pass a fellow worker on my way back to the kitchen.

"How are the crowds in your area, Allie?" Grace asks me, pausing on her way to the dining room.

"Intoxicated," I start with a chuckle, "But the crowd's a good size, it's an excellent turn out so far." Grace smiles at my first comment, and gives a nod.

"Yeah... Sounds like the ballroom." Grace attended the same high school that I did, but was in the grade below me. We were pretty good friends by now, having met each other just at the beginning of the summer through this job. She was wearing the same uniform that I was, the black apron of the Inn's, and a simple white dress underneath. Her short auburn hair was pinned back neatly away from her face.

"You heading back to the kitchen?" she asks me with a smile. I nod. "Tell Roman to stop eating all of the pigs in a blanket... I keep getting half-empty trays of them..." I laugh as I set off toward the kitchen, agreeing to her task.

"Its either Roman or Josh, either way, I'll cut them off. Look sexy for dem guests," I tease as I twiddle my fingers at her. She chortles in return.

"Oh, and punch Roman if he gives you lip!" I throw a salute before ducking into the kitchen's swinging doors. Miss Shela praises my mostly-empty tray as I hand it to her on my way to the stove, where Roman Spade is stirring some sort of soup. He is wearing the classy uniform to match Gracie and I's; a white dress shirt tucked loosely into white pants, with the Inn's black apron strung over top of it. He stands with his feet crossed at the ankles, and his hips leaning against the stove front, one hand lazily stirring the contents of the pot, and the other busy clicking away at his cell phone.

"There you are," he murmurs as music starts to emit from his phone, and he sets it on the shelf across from him. "Hey you," he purrs, flicking his light brown hair out of his eyes as he peers down at me with a smile.

"Hey, sugar. Gracie says to stop eating the food she has to serve to the guests," I chide, elbowing him as I poke my nose into the simmering contents of the pot. He wriggles a finger in my ticklish side to shoo me away.

"But I made them."

"For the //guests.//"

"Bah."

"Bah yourself."

"Hi, Allie!" Mr. Rease interjects as he briefly passes through the kitchen once more.

"Hiiiiii Mr. Rease," I play along, before turning back to playfully glare at Roman. With a smirk, he narrows his baby blues slyly down at me. I raise a brow at him as I take a tray of marinated meatballs from Miss Shela.

"Won't happen again, love," he croons through a suave smile. I roll my eyes at him. Roman had just graduated from our high school this past June, and was working a summer job here along with us as the assistant cook for Miss Shela. He was a cool guy, and like Grace, I got to know him through working with him. I had always seen him around school, mostly because his looks attracted my eye whenever I saw him around, and working with him led me to learn how chill he was. He also contributed to the fun-factor of working.

Evening turns to night, and the party gradually moves from mingling, to dinner, to ballroom, and Grace and I work our butts off serving all kinds of Miss Shela's delicious creation, all the while striking playful banter with Roman during our respites in the kitchen. And of course, every time Mr. Rease entered the kitchen, he would call "Hi, Allie!", a common game he had started at the beginning of the summer when he was trying to learn my name. Now all three of us stood in the ballroom, watching the guests laugh and dance. Naturally, Roman gets bored much more quickly with the laughing and dancing of the older adults than Grace and I do. We are congregated on the edge of the ballroom, next to a high-ceilinged wall. Roman required a fancy chair from the dining room, and sits straddling it with his arms draped lazily over the back of the chair. Grace and I lean carelessly against the wall on either side of him, slinging playful comments back and forth over his head.

"Roman, look. There's your girlfriend," Grace chimes, pointing off into the crowd. Roman raises his eyebrows.

"Oh yeah. She's definitely a looker. Obviously my type, Gracie," He mutters with a smile, regarding the obese woman of her late 40's having an embarrassingly wild time on the dance floor.

"Speaking of significant others, how's your man doing these days, Gracie?" I ask, facing her while using Roman's broad, hunched back to lean against. I feel him snort as Grace smiles, her hands twiddling with the frills of her apron.

"He's great. I miss him like mad crazy, of course... But he's glad to be working downstate while living with his uncle." I nod in agreement as I elbow Roman for having a tense back. He shrugs me off in mock disdain as I voice my opinion at the state of his muscles, which causes Grace to giggle at us.

"Rome's been single for some time now, Allie," Gracie says flirtatiously, kicking the leg of Roman's chair. I roll my eyes as I sit on the edge of the seat, back to back with Roman. I make a face at her.

"Ew."

"Ew?" Rome turns his head to look back at me with a grin, "Ouch, darlin'!" I ruffle his hair before slugging him in the arm.

"The last thing I need is another relationship right now," I start in an exasperated tone, "I just got rid of Logan, finally..." Grace tilts her head at me in wonder.

"No way," she breathes, her expression begging for details. Roman turns his head to the side as he listens silently.

"Dude, he was crazy..." I mutter with a slight, nervous smile.

"Howso?" Roman inquires. Grace blinks at me.

"He would get crazy jealous about //eeeeeverything.// He tried to practically control my life. And he was so needy."

"Yikes," Grace says, leaning back against the wall.

"Yeah. And things were getting a little too heavy... he has some anger management issues." Grace and Roman are both silent, Rome's look unreadable, and Gracie's filled with concern. I shrug at Grace. "Yeah, I'm kind of freaked out to be around him, to be honest. He can get out of control when he's angry." I feel Roman's chest cavity rumble as he makes a curious sound, and Grace's eyes travel back to the dance floor.

"Oh, Allie... Don't look now." Seeing the look on my friend's face, I peer warily over Roman's shoulder. My stomach drops as I spot a familiar figure striding toward our group.

"Logan?" I say in disbelief, standing from Rome's chair. He looks agitated, his eyes darting from Grace to Roman to me.

"I heard you were working a party here tonight," Logan says, his tone low and nervous, "I had to come and talk to you. Please, Al." Ug. He used that nickname I hate. I fidget with my apron uneasily.

"Logan... This isn't the best time."

"It's urgent," he presses. He looks terrible, now that I regard him. His shaggy hair is disheveled carelessly, and deep bags rim his tired, sullen eyes. His clothes are in sloppy disarray, and as I look at him, I feel deep pity for him. I make my way around Roman, who's slate colored eyes are like an iron lock on me.

"If you come back with any bruises..." he murmurs darkly as I pass him, his voice only carrying to my ears.

"Roman," I whisper under my breath.

Logan leads me out of the noisy ballroom, and into the empty library. The silence in the deserted room is a stark contrast to what we had just left, and I feel anxious about dealing with Logan right now. He moves straight for a high-backed lounge chair, falling into it and burying his face in his hands. I plod reluctantly after him.

"Logan," I say softly as I stand before him, "What did you want to see me about?" I ask. He is silent for a few moments before he responds.

"I just needed to see you. I needed to talk to you."

"About what?" Silence, again. I wring my apron front in my hands.

"I need you." My stomach twists nervously at his words.

God. He does this almost every day. Calls me a million times before I pick up, stalks me around town, shows up at my house all the time. I was getting sick of it.

"Logan... I hate to say it, but we need to move on... You're not giving yourself a chance to by seeing me."

"I don't want to give it a chance! I want you!" He says as his head snaps up to look at me, his eyes burning. "You are mine, Allie... I can't stand thinking about you being with anyone else. You are mine..." I take a step back, away from him.

"No, Logan... I'm not. And you need to accept that," I tell him the hard truth. A furnace of hurt and anger burns from his hazel eyes as his fists clench in his lap. He rises from the chair, and swiftly walks over to me. I stiffen as he folds his arms possessively around me.

"Stop, please... This isn't good for either of us," I whisper, bristling as he clutches me.

"No, Allie. You don't know how much I need you," he says, gazing down at me briefly before placing his lips against mine. I try to pull away, but his hand catches the back of my head. Giving up on trying to be nice, I begin to squirm against Logan as he wraps his other arm tightly around my waist. Finally breaking my mouth away from his, I gasp in alarm.

"Stop it, Logan!" I say, my voice shrill. His jaw sets threateningly as he uses both hands to hold my hips tightly against him.

"Allie, I love you! What more could you want?"

"I don't want that at all! I want you to leave me alone!" Before I know it, the floor comes crashing up to meet me, the side of my face burning. I land sprawled on the wooden floor, tumbling in shock onto my side. Baffled and lying on my stomach, I prop myself up shakily with my elbow as I clutch the side of my face where Logan struck me in anger. Tears well up in my eyes as I stare up at Logan in disbelief. His hands are balled into shaking fists, and his eyes burn as he glares furiously down at me. Fear grips the pit of my stomach as I desperately want to get away from Logan.

"Aleithea?" My name echoes down the empty library. Waves of relief shower over me as I twist around to see Roman standing in the large double doors. He looks taken aback, seeing Logan looming over me as I lay sprawled on the floor. Logan steps over me as he addresses Roman.

"Get out of here," he spits viciously, and Roman's expression becomes unreadable as he looks at Logan steadily.

"I think it's time for you to leave. You were never welcome here to begin with," his voice rumbles as he steps further into the library.

"No. This is between me and Allie. You can move along any second now," Logan growls. Tears spill from my eyes as I start to crawl around Logan.

"Don't leave me, Roman!" I beg shakily, and Logan whirls on me.

"Shut up!"

Quick as lightning, Roman lunges at Logan's turned back, connecting with him and taking him to the ground. I scramble away from them in alarm, and Roman kicks Logan away from him as he rises and backs away toward me.

"Aleithea..." he murmurs as he crouches beside me, taking my face in his hand soothingly. Logan gains his bearings as he launches himself in rage at Roman and I. Roman moves swiftly and athletically, landing a square punch to Logan's incoming jaw with a crack. Logan drops instantly, and lies motionless on the floor. I stifle a sob behind my hands as the room is plunged into silence, save my ragged breath. His slate blue eyes gaze softly down at me as Roman turns around.

"Rome..." I whimper, reaching a shaky hand out to him. He catches it in his strong grip, and hoists me up. He holds me against him as my knees shake.

"You didn't... seriously hurt him, did you?" I ask. He chuckles as he brings a hand up to gently stroke my stinging cheek.

"Just a K.O, love."

"Thank you... I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't have showed up..."

"Of course, Aleithea," he murmurs tenderly as he gently lifts me into his arms. Cradling me, he carries me toward a lounge chair and sets me down on it. He smiles up at me as he sits crouched in front of me.

"Holy God!" a voice calls in surprise, and we both look over to see Gracie rush into the library. "Allie, babe!" she says with alarm as she rushes to join Rome at my side. "What the heck happened?" she breathes, grasping my hand. Roman takes over with the explanation, and Grace's jaw hangs open as she touches my face lightly.

"That piece of garbage!" I laugh, and hug her tightly. "Rome, you're a hero..." her muffled voice says, her face still buried in my shoulder. Roman chuckles.

"I know," he says with a grin.