When Love Throws you a Smile Chapter 1

Chapter One

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.”

Mother Teresa

Isabella’s POV

“Diego, stop looking at Bree’s ass and get a move on. I can’t carry these trays by myself.” I growled. My wrists were beginning to ache from the strain of carrying four trays.

“Jeez Isabella, I’m just admiring the view. Is that a crime?” He mocked, brushing a solitary black curl from his face.

“It is when Fred fires your ass.” I laughed. Diego just rolled his eyes at me and took one of the trays from my hand and headed out the revolving doors of the kitchen. I followed out behind him.

“Ha ha.” He mocked, grabbing the remaining three trays from my hands and heading over to one of the tables upfront who were waiting on their food. I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck. It was one of those nights.

It was a cool Thursday evening and it was chaotic.

People were everywhere. The dance floor was packed with people, and everyone was hungry.

Working at Ferguson’s was definitely a beneficial job when it came to money, but not when it came to working long hours with sometimes crappy and bitchy customers.  

I had been here since twelve this afternoon and it was slowly approaching eight o’ clock which was considered our happy hour. My feet ached, I was sweaty, and just pure exhausted. It wasn’t even my day to clock in but a few waiters called in sick and Fred needed someone to take their place.

Fred offered to tip us extra for working the extra hours and I happily obliged. I needed all the money I could get. Working as a struggling art history graduate in today’s economy just wasn’t happening and you had to get work where you could find it.

Ferguson’s was a pretty well-known restaurant here in New York City. Open every day except Sunday, people piled in here by the masses. The big wigs, the romantics, the loners; everyone.

 It was known for its elegant French themed cuisines and décor. Not to mention the huge dance floor, that harbored a huge live band that played well into the early hours of the next day.

The attire here was pretty formal. All employees were required to wear white tops and black bottoms; button down shirts, slacks, and loafer for the males, while the females had to wear a white blouse, black skirt, and heels.

The clothes weren’t the problem, but the heels definitely were. I was extremely clumsy and didn’t a day go by that I hadn’t managed to make a fool out of myself.

My feet were beginning to ache and I wished I had the chance to slip into my flats, but George; our night manager was very strict when it came to dress code.

I had just finished delivering a tray of appetizers to a waiting table, when Diego came and told me I could take a break. Breaks usually lasted forty five minutes, but when it was chaotic like this, breaks often turn into ten minutes; fifteen if you were lucky.

“Thank god. I feel like my feet are about to fall off.” I grimaced, wincing as I hit a particular sore spot on the back of my heel.

“Well let’s just hope that’s the only thing that falls today.” Diego grinned. I glared at him.

“What? Today’s been a pretty good day and you haven’t fallen at all. That’s an accomplishment for you.” He tried to reason. I glared at him again.

“Okay, okay. How about you go get us a table? I’m on break as well and I’ll see if Tony can whip us up a couple of salads and some wine. Sound good?” I nodded my head.

“Yes and make sure it’s white wine. I really don’t feel like explaining to George why my white shirt has a huge red stain on it.” I replied, heading out the doors and into the front.

People were everywhere. Couples, friends, and family were strewn about, enjoying the music, the food, and their company.

I settled down at one of my favorite tables. It was in the corner of the restaurant and gave me ample view of everyone else, but strategically hid myself.

It was the day after Labor Day, and the restaurant was filled with mainly couples. Some were looking into each other’s eyes, some were laughing, while the others danced all night in each other’s arms on the dance floor. It was all so lovely and sappy. Mush, mush, and more mush.

It made me sick.

 I hated to admit it, but I was definitely pessimistic when it came to all of that romance mumbo jumbo. It just didn’t make sense to me. To see it constantly portrayed in movies or some cliché rom-com, where the female lead is swept off her feet by some tall dashing brooding man, whose head over heels for her and seems almost too perfect and yet he has an overbearing flaw that he somehow overcomes. Or better yet, the two best friends who think they can become lovers with the whole no strings attached concept and yet they eventually do fall in love. It was all just crazy and I honestly didn’t know what I wanted to believe in anymore. I had to be realistic.

A part of me ached to be like the other couples I observed, but I knew it was never going to happen. I was just plain jane Isabella Swan, the hopeless romantic who didn’t believe in romance. Such a contradiction right?

“Is, are you okay?” Diego asked waving a hand in front of my face. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

“Oh, yes I’m fine. I guess I just spaced out a little.” I answered as Diego settled one of the two Caesar salads he held in his hands.

“I can tell. You were glaring out at the dance floor for the past five minutes. Any longer, and I was beginning to ponder the idea of smacking you silly, but then stopped knowing you were probably going to kick my ass for even attempting.” He grinned, his dark brown eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Ha ha” I mocked, grabbing one of the wine glasses he brought with him, and much to my chagrin it was indeed some red wine.

“Sorry Is, the new shipment of white doesn’t come in until tomorrow, and you know we’re not allowed to touch the good stuff unless you’re willing to push out 500 dollars for a bottle. “He apologized.

“Whatever Di, just remember, if I get a spot on my shirt, it’s all on you.” I grinned.

Diego was my best friend. Born and raised in Barcelona until he was ten, he moved down to the little small town of Forks in Washington State, where I just so happened to be visiting my father that weekend.  Although he was four years older than me, we somehow clicked and we’ve been best friends ever since.

He knew me better than I knew myself. Things about my past, that were both good and bad and yet he never judged me and I did the same for him. I guess that’s why we got along so well.

There were never any romantic feelings between us, although it was often perceived that way by our coworkers, since we were so close with one another.  With his jet black curly locks, dark brown eyes, and olive colored skin, he was definably a sight for sore eyes. Especially for our co-worker Bree Tanner, who was not so subtlety glaring at me from across the room while Diego and I talked.

I rolled my eyes. The two of them have been making goo goo eyes at one another for the past two years, but it seemed like the two of them were too stubborn to do anything about it. I even reasoned on how to get the both of them together, but it often resulted in being a failure on my part considering my past relationship history and Bree’s obvious dislike of me, I found that I should just let things happen naturally and hoped that they would just fuck and get it over with.

“Hey Di, why don’t you go ask Bree to dance, so she can stop boring holes into my head huh?” I asked, while he was in mid bite of his own salad. He choked on his bite.

“She is not staring at you” He huffed. I peeked over my shoulder, using my hair as a curtain to sneak a glance over at Bree. Her glare was back full force. I really wanted to smack the look off her face and let her know that I was not stepping into her territory. I could have just told her that I didn’t feel for Diego in that way, but she was a just being a bitch. I asked him again.

“You think she would?” Diego commented and I noticed the hopeful look in his eyes. I nodded my head.

“I think she would love to.” I whispered. Yes I may not like Bree, but I loved Diego and would do anything to see him happy. I just had to suck it up and grow a pair, at least in figurative means. I looked through the curtain of my hair again to see her blue eyes brighten as he looked over in her direction and a soft smile take over her face and I knew that she had it bad just as much as he did.

“But I don’t want to leave you alone.” Diego replied softly. I swatted my hand at him.

“Go I’ll be fine. I’m twenty eight years old for crying out loud. You don’t have to watch me twenty four seven.” I replied. He got up hesitantly and threw me a cautious glance. I pushed him over towards Bree, who suddenly thought that her plate was very interesting. I observed him quietly creep over towards her table and ask her to dance.  She blushed and swept her long black hair behind her ears. I saw her quickly nod her head and grab his outstretched hand and watched as they headed to the dance floor, where Siobhan was belting out a lovely jazz tune with the band harmonizing behind her.

I watched as Diego wrapped his arms around Bree’s waist and began swaying back and forth. Bree rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes while he rested his head on top of hers. I suddenly turned away and felt like I was intruding on their little moment. I tried to ignore the pang in my chest and turned my thoughts elsewhere. I hoped they got together. They deserved a happily ever after. I rolled my eyes at the use of the term.

Here I was the hopeless romantic who wasn’t romantic at all. Quite the contradiction if I do say so myself. I didn’t necessary have high standards when it came to romance and tended to be a little bit pessimistic about it all, but I knew what I wanted. I guess I just hadn’t found it yet, or maybe was never meant to have it in the first place. That didn’t mean I couldn’t want it for others though.

You see I have sworn off men. I wasn’t a lesbian by any means, but when you’ve had your heart broken as many times as I have, you just give up. In every relationship I’ve had to date, I’d been cheated on. No explanations or excuses and it always had been someone close to me that ended up breaking my heart, hence why I don’t have many friends.

It all started with my first relationship, which took place in high school in ninth grade. It was the place where I met Eric Yorkie. He was the bookish nerd type, but he was the sweetest person I ever knew. We dated for two years, before the hierarchies of high school got to him, and once his braces and bad haircut were gone, he soon became the hottest thing on the scene. He dragged me along mercilessly until I caught him cheating with my other best friend Jessica Stanley. Needless to say, he dropped me like a fly and suddenly by the end of our senior year, they were engaged and expecting. He didn’t even apologize and neither did she. In fact she just shrugged it off as if it were nothing and outright told me it was my fault that I couldn’t keep him. That was strike one.

Strike two began during my sophomore year of college. It was there where I met Tyler Crowley. He was the typical jock/football player of the campus. Tall, brown haired, piercing baby blue eyes, and a smile to kill for, he could have had any girl he wanted, but somehow he was interested in me. I ignored his advances at first, but he was very persistent and eventually wore me down. We dated for a year and a half, and I thought everything was perfect. I even contemplated moving in with him.

One night, I decided to surprise Tyler at his apartment with some Chinese food and a couple of comedies from red-box. I had a key to his apartment and was surprised to see that his door was unlocked. I knew he wasn’t expecting me so I was a little curious as to why he would leave it unlocked like that. I quietly knocked on the door to signal my arrival as I entered, but he was nowhere to be found.  That was when I heard it; a soft groaning noise coming from Tyler’s bedroom. My instinct was telling me not to go towards his bedroom but my body just propelled me forward. Then moaning got louder until I was now standing in the doorway watching what was going on in front of me. Not only was Tyler fucking another girl in his bed, but the same girl he was fucking just happened to be my roommate and now ex-friend Lauren Mallory. I just stood there and they didn’t even notice me until I let out a muffled sob.

Tyler was the first to notice me there. He abruptly pulled way and began trying to throw on some pants, while Lauren just laid there in all of her naked glory. At least Tyler had the audacity to apologize to me, but told me in no circumstances did he regret his actions. He was in love with her and that was that. Lauren just boasted it in my fact that I didn’t fit his lifestyle and that he needed a beautiful woman in his life and not a ratty art student. Talk about a blow to a person’s ego. As if I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself as is and now I was ugly? Diego had a hard time getting me back from that one.

Strike three, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I was fresh out of school and looking for job out in Seattle. I had made a promise to myself that I was not going to let myself get into any kind of relationship and that’s was where fate threw Colin into my life.  To make a long story short, Colin was my first and everything and I honestly thought I loved him. Again, I thought it was all peaches and cream until he of course cheated on me….with another man. Apparently I was just a test to him to really see if he really preferred men, and after our first time; my first time, he decided that he did not like the female anatomy at all and that I just confirmed it all for him.

I had a breakdown after that. I had basically turned a man gay. I stayed in my apartment for weeks after that. I wallowed in myself pity wondering why did it have to happen to me and why was I so naïve and foolish to fall for jerks who just wanted to string me along. Suddenly, Seattle was becoming this suffocating place and I knew I had to leave or I was going to self-destruct. Diego being the life savior that he was, decided to accompany me. We blindly skimmed our hands across a map of the country and decided to move to NYC and seven years later here I am.

Alone, jaded, slightly bitter and working in a restaurant where my degree in art history was slowly but surely going down the drain.

Seems perfect right?

I guess it was, at least to me it was. With the money I made here at Ferguson’s I lived comfortably and spent most of my nights with my one-eyed cat Mojo and pit-bull Howl.

Exciting wasn’t it.

I had about fifteen minutes left of my break and decided I was going to begin gathering the dirty dishes from our quick meal. Diego and Bree were still out on the dance floor oblivious to everyone and everything around them as usual.

After discarding the dishes in the back for the washmen to clean, I sat back down and began drinking the remnants of my wine. We were only allowed one glass to drink, but I was going to make it last, considering how sorry I was feeling for myself at the moment.

I closed my eyes and mindlessly swayed my head to the soft jazz undertones when I could feel a presence looming over me. I opened my eyes to see a tall figure standing over me; a male to be exact. He was dressed in black slacks that seemed to be contoured to his long legs. My eyes drifted higher up towards his chest, where he was clothed in a white shirt, the first couple of buttons undone and accompanying black suit jacket. My eyes continued their travel bypassing his face to the mess of reddish colored hair and that’s when I saw his face or more importantly his eyes.

Eyes that made my breath hitch in my chest and the wine I was drinking to go down the wrong pipe.

Eyes that reminded me of jade or fresh cut grass in the radiant sunlight.

I never thought green could be such a mesmerizing color and suddenly  I dammed my father for letting me inherit his muddy brown eyes instead of my mother’s green ones.

I just stared at his eyes for a moment and then it was his voice that broke me out of my thoughts.

A voice that was smooth as silk and sounded like velvet.

“May I have this dance?”