Who's that Girl?
He had been watching her for some time, not entirely comfortable even in himself that he was observing her, even if she was a waitress and therefore out in public to all intents and purposes.
He liked the way that she chatted to everyone, as if they were actually important to her, and he loved her style; the piercings and her amazing tattoos, the ones that he could see anyway. He had been taking breakfast in the same place for over a month in order to see her and still he had not found the courage to talk to her beyond a ‘good morning’ or ‘it’s nice out, huh?’ and of course to give her his order or ask for the check.
He knew what was holding him back, and it was not the obvious. It was just that he felt like it was somewhat tacky to hit on waitresses; they must put up with that shit all of the time, and no matter how nicely he put it she was going to be immediately on her guard. He had thought about trying to strike up a conversation with her about where she liked to go out, but that was obvious too…