Vince’s eyes stayed trained on you as you went about your waiter duties, serving customers and starting small talk with them as you attempted to stall as the cooked. You were doing pretty good for your first week.

Vince kept his back pressed to the wall, he had to watch over his cooks as well, though he seemed to be having a hard tome keeping his attention divided between making sure they did a good job—and making sure you did a good job.

He wasn’t sure why he was so fixated on you, you were doing a good job. Wasn’t that enough? He has no reason to keep his eyes on you, does he?

Maybe. Just maybe it was his own personal feelings getting in the way of this. Maybe he liked the way you worked, the way you politely spoke to customers, the way you quickly went from table to table making sure everyone was happy with the food.