||The Dusking Sky Ch.6 Part 2||*08/07*{PG.26} - Page 2

Chapter 1 ~ Terminal 2A

I met him at the airport.

How cliched right? How many times have you seen this in movies, read it in a romantic saga or even seen it happen to your friend.

But cliches do happen and you don't even realise it till much later.

"I need this job Noor!"

"Zoya will you please calm yourself down. You must have repeated those lines more than a million times last night"

"Seriously? A million, Noor? You have any idea how many times that would be?" I glared at Noor. I could see her smile creep up slowly except she tries her best to supress it by biting her lips.

"I really need ..."

"ZOYAA" she jumps up from her chair, throwing our half-eaten fries at me which she misses, of course.

"Aye! don't waste fries, it's a criminal offence," stuffing the now scattered fries on the table, I mumble. "You need to stop with these fries and concentrate on how you are going to tell your dad about this job" Noor crosses her arms, which I know she is doing to look like she means business.

I sat up a little. We don't want to mess with this Noor, or god knows what she will do to my fries.

"For that I need to get this job genius" I reply sarcastically, covering my face waiting for bullet of fries to shower on me.

Instead I hear a loud thump on the table, "YOU HAVE THE JOB! For the last time Zo, you have been practising for this job for two weeks' and no shut up don't you dare interrupt me." Just like that Noor Ali Khan makes me slump back into my chair. Then ignoring my pout, she continued.

"We have gone through this several times, in the past week besides, I have told you I know those people and they have assured me if I prepare you right, you have the job!"

"What if I mess up? You know I am efficient enough to mess with the most perfect things," before my voice could break, I look away from Noor.

Her eyes softened a little, she gently moved to the chair beside me. "You are not the messed up one and you know it. Hell, there are people, who are much more messed up than you. Trust me, you will witness someone worst" she side-hugged me.

"Shit! Baba is going to kill me for waitressing at an airport, Noor!"

My roommate fell off her chair laughing rather grasping for air while I face palmed myself.

** **

I can do this. I can do this! It's the only mantra I chanted while balancing about fifty plates with my left hand in addition to three wine glasses in my right, whilst performing a sophisticated act of control on my face. Then again, the distracting departure and arrival announcements at the Terminal 2A did not help either.

Almost there, I told myself but my hands didn't seem to cooperate with me as they start to shake. Luckily, Ashish takes away the bunch of plates from my hand putting me out of my misery with a genuine smile.

"Not bad Zoya Siddiqui, you actually have been practising all those techniques I had told you about" he says, placing the plates back on the table.

I nervously pulled back a fallen strand of my hair and hope he had not seen the shake in my fingers. "Thank you, Ashish this is all Noor you know. She has been working so hard with me these couple of days" I proudly say, wishing she was with me right now watching me do this. Noor has been the only one who has stepped up and helped me get through. From making multiple calls to get me a job to actually training me to be able to do the job accurately.

"Where is that girl anyway" Ashish breaks me out of my thoughts.

"She has double shift at the Marine resort today so couldn't make it. Might make it tomorrow" I reply, knowing very well she will be here as soon as she can to watch me work.

"Sure, ask her to come say hello. I think you are doing fine, you can collect your uniform from my office and start by the next hour" before I could even respond he had already walked away.

"Whaa--" Wait, did he just say next hour? Crap!

** **

Zoya Siddiqui. I stared at my name tag in the mirror, which was now attached to my uniform. For some reason, it looked titled so I took it off for the tenth time and re-attached it. Even though, I am not satisfied, I decide to let go of the tag and instead, used both my palms to ease out an imaginary crease over my skirt.

It was a classic white buttoned shirt and black skirt pattern with a black apron wrapped around my waist. Which idiot suggested white was suitable for waitressing? I mean we deal with food, colourful food that will stain our clothes and cost us our job! Anyway, I should not be complaining. After all, this is my all-time favourite colour. I smile at myself more of a, 'I am screwed' smile.

"Zoya! You have been changing for more than an hour now." I almost tripped, hearing someone knock, rather break down the changing room.

"I am done, just two more minutes." Damn these senseless heels I curse, struggling to walk straight. Another dumb idea by some insane dude who decided to give waitresses' high heels.

Lost, I fascinatedly observed everyone in the kitchen run around from one end to another. The main door leading to the restaurant opening and closing every mille second. How is anyone walking straight with all this smoke around them in the kitchen, I wondered.

"We are short of staff here Zoya. So, here take this Masala tea and fries to the table at the left corner, near the bar" I snap out of my thoughts as some random girl hands me a tray full of fries.

Dumb folded I stand there for a minute trying grasp what she just said.

"Okay. Left corner. Bar" I walked, out mumbling to myself.

I smiled at every customer on my way to the table, although all my sheer concentration was, to prevent myself from tripping face down. And, very inconveniently my stomach decides to grumble like a roaring lion. I helplessly looked down at the plate, full of fries. Pressing my lips together, I inspected for the table I was supposed to go to, and notice the customer sitting with his back faced towards me. Will he even notice, if one fry is missing?

Picking up one leg, I balanced my tray with one hand and hesitantly, raised my other but when I am about to pick it up, I stop myself.

Zoya! Allah will never forgive you for stealing another man's food. Even if they are mouth watering fries. Holding the tray with both my hands, I gracefully walked towards my customer.

On my way, I struggle really hard not to glance at the those freshly fried, soft, salted fries. Almost there, I convince myself but of course, ill-timed and useless brain is taken over by damned grumbling stomach.

One moment I am glimpsing down at the fries and the next moment I am on the carpeted floor with the fries.

"Allah! Dumb idea number three, why keep carpets when you can have a simple tiled floor but noo we have to show off--" I shut up realising I am actually speaking my thoughts out loud.

"I...I am so sorry sir" dusting off the fries that had landed on my skirt, I apologise, still pretending to dust of fries. I did not have the courage to look up at the disappointed look I was getting from everyone.

"It's not the carpet, it's your lust for my fries" I hear a hoarse male voice and snap my head up, horrified.

Instead of disappointment, I found the man smirking at me, as though he had caught me with some deep dark secret.

Chapter 2[