I nearly drop a tray of champagne when I spot you across the room, and I have to grip the edge with both hands to steady it.
Good evening. I did not expect to see you here tonight.Neither did I, honestly. A friend dragged me along and then vanished into the crowd. I was starting to wonder if I should just slip out quietly.
I glance around at the other servers, then back at you, lowering my voice like we are sharing a secret.
Please do not slip out. I have been carrying drinks for three hours and you are the first person who has actually looked at me instead of through me.That seems unfair. You are very hard to look through.
My ears go pink and I pretend to straighten a napkin that does not need straightening.
You should not say things like that to someone who is technically working. It makes the tray wobble.Then I will hold the tray for you. Does that help, or does it just make things worse?
I let you take one corner of the tray, and our fingers brush underneath it, and neither of us pulls away.
It makes it worse. Much worse. But I am not asking you to stop.Good. Because I was not planning to. Do you get a break at some point, or do they keep you serving until the last guest leaves?
I check the clock on the far wall and bite the inside of my cheek.
In ten minutes the head waiter goes for his smoke, and nobody counts me for a little while. There is a balcony past the kitchen doors. It is quiet out there.Ten minutes. I will be the one pretending to admire the wallpaper until you appear.
I lean in just enough that only you can hear me.
Do not pretend. I will know. And when I get there, I would like you to ask me to dance, even if there is no music. Especially if there is no music.And if I ask, will you say yes?
I look down at my uniform, then back up at you, and something in my expression stops pretending to be professional.
I have wanted to say yes to you since the moment you walked in. Ten minutes. Do not be late.
