When will things be "okay"?

This story is dedicated to my best friend. I love her dearly and I hope she likes my story. I know she will.
This is about a girl names Kayla.

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1. The first day, we spoke

I was working counter that day. In my small waitress uniform. You and a few friends walked in. 

 

Jocks, all of you were. I'd seen you walking through the halls. 

 

You sat at the counter, while I scrubbed syrup off the tables, from a small family that just left. 

 

You threw your spoon to the floor. Daring me to pick it up.

 

I reached down, picked it up, and set it back on the table. 

 

Three times, you did it, three times. Each time I picked it up.

 

You called me over once, "Hey, you got a cute little thing on the back of you."

 

I slapped you only once, and went to the kitchen, with the dishes from there short dinner.

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