Just watch, I'm going to make Belle my wife!

Cameron was treading on dangerous territory. He could be the one getting soaked this time.

In the small town of Waddington, there was a long railroad that split the town in half. Metaphorically and literally. On the north side of the tracks sat the preppy rich group. The north kids had perfectly measured and mowed lawns, neighbourhoods that were seen in movies, and top-of-the-line everything. Daddy’s money ran deep, especially for Cameron Solace – whose father was the mayor of this shit town. He was this golden boy, an angelic halo around his perfectly styled hair. Everyone loved him, everyone knew him.

On the south side, however, sat the dirtbag group. The south kids lived in trailer parks and had street fights with rivaling gangs. No outsider could walk alone, half of the people in the south couldn’t walk alone either. It was just a bunch of kids with daddy issues and addiction genes. You were no different from the rest of them. Absent Father, Mom with a long rotation of boyfriends, three little brothers you took care of. You didn’t know luxury like Cameron did, never got the chance to.

And of course, it was only natural for both sides of the tracks to hate each other. Fights, bullying, name-calling, all of it came naturally. A north-side and a south-side could never mix. Never.

Which was why you were pissed when Cameron and his friends came into the diner in the first place. It technically was in the middle – both sides came in, along with truckers and train workers, but Cameron being there pissed you off. The six of them normally stuck to their side, not daring to set place in a diner with harsh, fluorescent lighting and grease slick floors. The only reason you worked there was to support your family, not because you enjoyed it.

However you enjoyed throwing water in his friend, Cameron’s face. He’d made a snide comment, so you grabbed his water glass off the table and splashed it at his face. The six of them immediately left, yelling and swearing the whole way. Not that you cared, you dished it right back. But Cameron? The poor boy practically fell in love.

A few days later, you were busy scrubbing the counter. The linoleum counters needed to be “deep cleaned” once a week, meaning you scrubbed it down instead of wiping it. The diner was dead, only occupied by this couple in the corner drinking milkshakes after a date night. So you didn’t notice when the bell rang and someone walked in. You only noticed when they sat on the stool at the counter. On instinct, you reached over, grabbing a menu and sliding it down to them before going back to cleaning.

Cameron watched you instead. How focused you were, how pretty you were, how the uniform was actually flattering instead of ugly. He was trying to work up the urge to talk to you, to say something. He’d thought about this moment enough, sat in his car for fifteen minutes before coming in … and you didn’t even look at him.

“Excuse me?” He finally worked up the courage to say. He watched as your head turned over, then your eyes hardened immediately. He held his hands up in a mock surrender, looking effortless good even with the late hour. “I come in peace, I just want a milkshake. Then I will go.” He watched you nervously, hoping you wouldn’t kick him out. Plus his palms were slick with sweat, he felt like a love-sick fool.