Diner Girl

Harley Elizabeth Jones is a girl with insomnia. Ashton Irwin is a drummer of a famous band. What happens when he crosses paths one night with Diner Girl?

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2. Chapter 1

As I opened the diner door, the little bell attached to the hinge chimed, letting the only waitress who works here at this hour, a kind 30-something year old woman named Becky, know that I entered. "Hey Harley. Coffee and pie as usual?" she asked, pulling out a pot of fresh coffee and a mug.

"Oh hey, yeah of course. You’re the best." I say, smiling warmly as I slid into my usual seat at the bar. I set my bag on the counter, and pulled out my sketchbook and pencils as Becky poured my coffee.

"What project are you working on tonight?" she asked me, sliding the warm mug over.

"Oh I’m just finishing up a sketch for class," I smile at her. She throws me a wink  before walking away. Being an art student with insomnia at our local community college, Becky is used to me drawing at the diner late at night. Hopefully next year, when I turn 19, I’ll get into Art School in New York.

I slide my mug to the side and pull out my phone to play some music. I glance at the glowing numbers on the top of my screen and realize that it’s only 12:30. I mean I did leave my house at 12 ‘cause my dads and little brother were watching a late movie, but i was hoping more time had passed. Oh, yeah, and I have gay parents. It’s great and I love them more than anything in this life. The only problem in our household is when I ask for 'Dad' and they both reply. But they don’t know I have insomnia and I want it to stay that way. They already have enough to worry about. I can't hang around my house, and this diner’s the only place that’s open 24 hours and isn’t some flashy dance club. I come here almost every night. Becky knows my order by heart, not that a large coffee and a slice of pie is hard to remember.

But I’m not that much of a pathetic loser. Some nights I go on adventures or short road trips that usually last a day or two, although they take place over the weekends. My favorite spot is the beach that’s a 5 minute drive from here. It’s nice to hang out and watch the sunset then make my way home to get my nightly 3 to 5 hours of sleep.

I put only one earbud in my ear because Becky sometimes gets lonely here all by herself and likes to chat. Sweater Weather by the Neighborhood washes through my earbud and into my mind. I hum quietly to the melody while working on my sketch. There wasn't much left to do with it since I was almost finished. As I added the finishing touches, I heard the door chime. I turned slightly in my seat and see a tall guy that looked a few years older than me walk in. "Hi, take a seat anywhere and I will be right with you sweetheart." Becky smiled at the customer. He gave her a little half smile in response, showing off his dimples. The stranger took a seat a few chairs away from me. I blushed slightly, realizing I had been staring, and instantly  looked down, only to sneakily examine him from the corner of my eye. The boy had short, curly, dirty blonde hair with bangs. He was wearing black skinny jeans with a Joy Division's sleeveless shirt. I internally nodded at his choice of shirt. A fedora rested atop his mess of curls. I continued to draw, not paying much attention to him, aside from occasionally stealing a glance or two.

I had just finished my drawing completely when I felt someone beside me. I looked up and glanced over to see the mystery guy sitting next to me, staring at my sketchbook. "Hi" he said, smiling at me with those dimples, with an accent clear in his voice. It sounded sort of Australian, but I wasn’t sure.

"Hi?" I reply in question, confused as to why he is talking to me.

"What are you doing?" he asked conversationally, as if we had met me before.

"Just working on a school assignment." I reply hesitantly. I looked at him with furrowed eyebrows and studied his face. Why would he be talking to me? Is he one of those people who are overly friendly to strangers or is he just curious as to what I'm doing? I think to myself. The awkward silence hangs in the air for a moment until he breaks it.

"So where do you go to school?" he says, grinning slyly at me, gazing into my amber eyes. I stare right back through his hazel ones. They're a nice color, a hazel brown similar to my younger brother's. Still, he was weirding me out. I see nothing in his eyes. The saying eyes are the windows to one's soul is complete bullshit. I continue to stare at him trying to figure out why I had been put into his impromptu interview. What is this guy’s deal?

"Why would I tell you that? I don't even know your name." I shoot back. He lets out a small chuckle before holding out his hand.

"Well, we can start with that. My name is Ashton."

I look down at his hand then back up at him. Well, he did tell me his name, I reason in my head before twisting my body around so as to face him. Our knees brush against each other as I take his large hand in mine.

"Harley."

 
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