|posted on 8-Aug-2002 11:41:03 AM|
By: MoonLily AKA Isabel
Disclaimer: I don’t own Roswell! Although, I think that’s pretty obvious.
Rating: PG-13/R for language, violence, and themes
Category: AU M/L
Summary: It’s the summer after the gang’s junior year, and a new girl has arrived in Roswell. Her name: Liz Parker. But not everything is as it seems. Could she hold the missing link to the aliens’ past?
Author’s Note: This is a Tess-less story! Enjoy!
The first thing she noticed was the smell. She caught one whiff of the greasy odor and immediately wanted to turn right back out that door and run.
The second thing she noticed was the decoration. Alien heads and flying saucers seemed to be popping out everywhere. Sure, she knew what Roswell was famous for. Who didn’t? But this was a bit excessive.
The third thing she noticed was the uniform. Oh, those God-awful waitress uniforms. She prayed that her dad would have the good sense to redesign them.
The fourth thing she noticed was the couple. They seemed to be in their mid-eighties. No wonder they had been willing to part with the café on such short notice. The poor couple was probably more than ready to retire and just relax.
The fifth thing she noticed was that her parents were leaving. Wait…what?
Liz ran to catch up with them. She had evidently spaced out there for a few moments. The customers must think she was a complete idiot, standing by the door like a statue. But why should she care what anyone else thought of her? Ever since-
“Lizzie!” That was her dad. She must have zoned out again. “So, what do you think?”
Liz gave a noncommittal shrug. Who cared about what she thought? He obviously hadn’t. In fact, he hadn’t even given a damn when-
“Well, how ‘bout we take a look around upstairs?” Sheesh. There she went again. She had to stop thinking about that. It was over. Done with. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.
With that, she followed her parents up the stairs.
Liz was still in shock. How could her dad do this to her? The Fates definitely had a grudge against her. Why else would she have alien antennae sticking out of her head and a huge alien head resting in her lap?
Halloween was five months away. Besides, she was too old for that kind of crap anyway. What was the meaning of making her play dress-up? This was torture.
There goes the minute hand. Break was over. It was back to work for Liz Parker. Otherwise known as the sworn enemy of the Fates That Be.
Pose. Smile prettily. Scribble unintelligibly. Walk away.
All the while pretending like she didn’t notice how the pervert was checking out her ass in the way too tight, much too revealing uniform.
Guys were all alike. Every single one of them. The day she met a guy who didn’t think with Mini-Me would be the day she found her soul mate.
But, of course, that was simply impossible. Everyone knew Liz Parker did not fall in love. The very idea of soul mates made her scoff. She pitied those poor, misguided people living in their illusionary lovey-dovey worlds. Fools. The whole lot of them. Didn’t they realize that their make-believe fantasies were just that? Fantasies? And that sooner or later, those same fantasies were going to come crashing down on top of them? And when the inevitable happened, they would be crushed.
“Order up!” Liz grabbed the tray of steaming food. It was for Table Number Four. Wonderful! That guy simply did not give up. As she was setting his lunch on the table, his arm “accidentally” brushed up against her chest.
Needless to say, she retreated as soon as humanly possible. Out of the corner or her eye, she saw the girl he was with, whom she presumed to be the jerk’s girlfriend, smack him on the arm. The girl should have done it harder. And in a far more painful area.
Wait, what was that? Oh, great. The guy was calling for the waitress. That meant her.
It was going to be a long day.
Almost an hour later, Liz was tired.
The pervert and his girlfriend had finally left (thank God!), but what was her tip? Hm? What was her compensation for the suffering? A measly dollar. For a twenty-five dollar meal. And five trips of replacing mysteriously disappearing condiments.
Yes, Liz had a right to be exhausted.
Fortunately, business had trickled down to a couple of tables. The remaining customers all seemed to be locals, which was very good news. No more annoying tourist questions that Liz couldn’t answer. She was barely out of tourist status herself!
The door chimes tinkled, inciting a groan from Liz. She didn’t want to look up. “Don’t let it be a tourist. Or a guy. Please, just be a nice, safe, elderly lady,” she whispered under her breath.
Slowly, she raised her head from the tabletop. Her stomach sank. The newcomer was definitely not an elderly lady. He didn’t look particularly safe, either. And the nice part. Well, she’d have to wait a little bit on that one.
Now, why wasn’t the person her ideal customer? Because the last time she checked, nice, safe, elderly ladies weren’t tall with dark hair. They didn’t wear snug white T-shirts that showed off just the right amount of muscle.
But, most of all, they didn’t have chocolate brown eyes flecked with amber. Eyes that appeared to be staring straight through her. Eyes that seemed to know her deepest secrets.
She was in trouble.
|posted on 8-Aug-2002 11:42:58 AM|
“All right, Liz. Remember your routine. You can do this,” Liz coached herself. She took a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
She started striding over to the corner booth where the stranger was sitting. The cliché of tall, dark, and handsome fit him perfectly.
Liz mentally pinched herself. What was she thinking? He was just another creep, waiting to snatch her up, have his way with her, and toss her away like a useless rag doll after he was through. Wasn’t that what all guys did?
Their eyes locked together once more when she was halfway across the room, and all of her logical reasoning flew out the window. She felt as if she knew those eyes. Like she had gazed into them for hours on end many times before. And now, looking at those dark brown orbs, for some reason, she didn’t find that too hard to believe. She could easily stare into them all day.
She shook her head slightly to clear out the thoughts. Was she finally going insane? Here she was, dreaming about a guy she’d barely even known for two minutes. Scratch that. She didn’t know him at all. So why was she feeling like she had found her…soul mate? Hadn’t she been thinking just a few minutes ago how ridiculous the very concept of soul mates was?
Liz reached the small, two-person booth and couldn’t help but notice the stranger was alone. That was funny. Most guys with his looks would have surely brought a girl along, if only to flaunt her to the world like some sort of trophy.
Now, here was an opportunity. Maybe she could fill the position? It would be so easy to slide in across the table from him…
No! What the hell was wrong with her today? She, of all people, should know what it felt like to be an arm decoration. It was far from pleasant. And that wasn’t even the worst part.
Liz resolved to stick to business-related thoughts from then on. Business. She was a waitress at the Crash Down Café. Right.
That meant taking customers’ orders. Not leaving the person that had been trying to catch her attention for the past two minutes sitting there with an empty stomach. Even if he was a guy.
‘And a damn cute one, too!’ Liz quickly shut the traitorous part of her mind up.
“I apologize for the delay. May I take your order, sir?” It was back to business for Liz Parker. Uh-huh. She would be all about business from now on. Business before pleasure. That was her motto. Not that there would be any pleasure. Nuh-uh. None at all. Not on her part. She-
“Excuse me? Liz, are you all right?” A voice broke into her thoughts. His voice.
“Of course. I’m sorry, I must have blanked out there for a few seconds. Could you please repeat your order?” That’s right, Liz. Just act professional.
Suddenly, something hit her. Right when the guy was opening his mouth to speak, Liz interrupted. “Wait a minute. Liz?”
The guy smiled charmingly.
No! He did not smile charmingly! He was grinning. Probably even leering. Whatever it was, it was most definitely not charming!
“Would you prefer to be called ‘miss’? It’s just that when I saw we were around the same age, I thought you wouldn’t mind me using your first name. I’m sorry.”
Okay, now he was starting to creep her out. How did he know her name? Was the guy a stalker or something? She cast a furtive glance around the restaurant. The few people there didn’t look like they would do any good if he tried something.
Stalker Boy must have noticed her look of surprise, for he pointed to her chest. What? Even guys usually weren’t this forward. She was beginning to think he was even worse than the kleptomaniac stealing all the condiments.
Liz opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind when a glint of gold caught her eye. What was that? She looked down and immediately felt a flush spread across her face. Duh, Liz. It was called a nametag. A nametag with the name “Liz” printed on it, as clear as day for all the world to see. Yeah, she was an idiot.
“Uh, no. Liz is fine.”
She couldn’t quite bring herself to look him in the eye as she finally took his order and hurried away. What was the matter with her? She was usually so calm and composed. The picture of control. But what was left of her now? A heart beating almost painfully fast and a lump of mush formerly known as her brain. Just like all the other ditzy teenage girls. What was she turning into?
She would have to make sure to steer clear of him as much as possible. He was a hazard to her health. There was no telling how much damage he could do.
With her mind made up and a will of steel, Liz Parker was prepared for anything. Nothing he threw her way would affect her in the least. Yes, everyone knew what she could accomplish when she was determined.
A sudden cold, wet sensation snapped Liz out of her musings. Her right hand was covered with Cherry Coke. His Cherry Coke.
Oh yeah. She was definitely off to a fantastic start.
After she washed off the sticky mixture, Liz took a deep breath and tried to slow down her once more erratic heartbeats. He was just another customer. All she had to do was walk over there and set down the soda. Plain and simple.
She could do this.
Her confidence somewhat recovered, Liz began to make her way across the room. At first, it seemed to last an eternity, but suddenly, she was there.
“Your drink, sir.” That was good. Nice and calm. Perfectly businesslike.
Later, Liz could never recall exactly how it happened. Maybe it was her silent musings getting her in trouble again. Or perhaps it was some subconscious force controlling her. She wasn’t sure.
All she knew was that one moment, the Cherry Coke was in the glass—where it belonged. The next moment, it—wasn’t.
It had somehow ended up on the floor, to be precise.
And in his lap. No, more like on his upper thigh. His very upper thigh.
Her elbow, the culprit, was still cold where it had bumped against the glass.
For the second time that day, Liz Parker blushed crimson.
|posted on 8-Aug-2002 11:46:12 AM|
For a few seconds, Liz just stared in horror. This couldn’t be happening to her. But it was.
“Uh…uh…I’m s-sorry, s-s-sir,” she managed to stutter out while desperately fanning her flaming red cheeks.
Liz could tell the guy was uncomfortable with the situation, but to his credit, he didn’t take it out on her. In fact, he merely quirked that little half-smile of his and replied smoothly, “It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.”
Liz could only nod before she rushed off to fetch some napkins. She grabbed two handfuls from the counter and hurried back to her unfortunate victim.
“Once again, I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m not usually this clumsy, you know.” Liz realized she was babbling like an idiot.
“Like I said before, it’s all right.” The stranger placed a comforting hand on top of hers to calm her down.
Liz was shocked to feel a warm current of electricity spread through her hand and shoot up her arm. In an effort to get a hold of herself, she pulled her hand away as hastily as she could without appearing rude. Heavens knew she didn’t need any more of that today.
“Right. Here, at least let me help clean it up.” Liz started dabbing at the rapidly spreading spot on his jeans, not fully noticing what she was doing until she heard a sharp intake of breath.
Wondering what she had done now, and not really sure she wanted to find out, Liz glanced up. As it turned out, that was the wrong place to look, for the guy was staring down. Liz gulped. Her gaze slowly traveled downward, and when it reached its destination, all coherent thought processes promptly screeched to a halt.
The napkin had been there, touching…that place. Rubbing against it. Soaking up the— But, of course, it wasn’t the napkin that was the problem. Her hands had been there, too.
All remnants of Operation Control immediately flew out the window.
The only thing she could currently think of was her resolve to put business before pleasure. And how she had been so determined that there would be no pleasure. That was funny. What she had just been doing sure seemed like pleasure to her.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Liz regained her senses. The rational part of her mind recalled another time, another place—and an occasion involving that same part of the male anatomy. Liz was jolted back into reality as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over her head.
She quickly straightened up. That memory was the one sure thing that could get her mind back on track again. And keep it there.
Liz chose to pretend like she didn’t notice anything wrong with where her hands had been a few brief moments ago.
“Well, I apologize for the mess again. I’m sure you can clean up the rest yourself. There’s a bathroom in the back. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have to go find something to wipe up the floor.” With that said, she briskly walked away and, a few minutes later, returned to an empty booth with a mop.
If anyone had been watching closely, they might have noticed that the girl was rubbing at the floor a bit too vigorously for a mere soda spill. But no one was.
After that incident, Liz’s whole demeanor changed. She was no longer the clumsy and embarrassed waitress who couldn’t even pour someone a soda without getting it all over her hand. From then on, she really was the picture of control, even around the mysterious stranger who seemed to have wormed his way under her skin.
But the ironic thing was, Liz didn’t have to try anymore. She had no more annoying thoughts that would distract her. Occasionally, when one would start to tickle in the back of her mind, she easily swatted it away before it could even form completely.
When the stranger left, Liz’s only thought was relief. Not because of what the guy did to her judgment, but because he had left a more than generous tip, despite the soda spill episode.
Oh, and that perhaps he was better than the kleptomaniac after all.
For little did she know that she would change her mind the very next day.