AN: This is a side story to Ali Di Angel.

I guess you can read this without reading Ali Di Angel, but it's recommended.

Fang POV.

Disclaimer: JP owns everything.


Okay. I can do this. No big deal. Just walk in there. Don't make eye contact with anyone. If someone laughs, ignore them.

I give myself a tiny nod before stepping into the hustle and bustle that is The Corner Cafe. Jessy, a fellow waitress gawks at me as I pass her. In the corner, I see Anthony break down into laughter. Curious eyes are glued to me from every corner of the cafe.

For the love of God, it's just a shirt!

I shoulder my way into the kitchen and try to not notice the stares the kitchen staff has pinned on me.

"You okay over there, Nick?" Charlotte asks. She's a nice girl, got a job a few weeks after I did. We're friends.

"I'm fine," I say through clenched teeth.

It's quiet. I close my eyes and wait for the remark that I know is coming.

"Interesting clothing choice," Damon says to me.

"Shut up."

"I'm serious!" Damon says, grinning at me. "Pink does wonders with your complexion-"

I throw the closet thing I can find at him: a tomato. Damon ducks down and the tomato hits the wall with a splat. It slowly slides down the wall.

The kitchen staff laughs. I scowl at them all.

"Why, exactly did you wear a pink shirt?" Charlotte asks me, curious.

I roll my eyes. "Don't make bets with Anthony. Even if you think you're sure that you're going to win. I mean, honestly, did you know that Anthony can eat 15 Twinkies in 2 minutes? Because I sure as hell didn't."

"So he got to pick out your outfit for today?" Charlotte's lips are twitching. I know what that means. She's about five seconds away from laughing.

I sigh and blow out a puff of breath. "For the next week. And he has a suspicious amount of pink clothing in my size. And leather chaps. Save me."

She laughs at my misery.

"Some help you are," I grumble under my breath. I ask Charlotte what section I'm on today, and she tells me that I have the A section today. I grab a note pad to write down the customer's orders and I'm off.


I drop down in my seat, exhusted. Damn it, why did I take a job as a waiter, again? My feet always end up killing me by mid-day and I want to go home by noon. Every single day. It's a wonder that I haven't quit yet.

"Nick! Table Seven!"

I groan and drop my head into my hands. Table Seven is in the A section.

"Kill me," I whimper.

I just sat down, and they're telling me to get back up. Honestly, this isn't good for a working man's body. I deserve rest! I deserve breaks! I deserve a fully stock vending maching with Twinkies in it.

No, not Twinkies. They're what got me into this shirt.

I pinch it in between two fingers and groan that brightness. I swear, that thing is getting brighter every minute.

I get up and walk my way over to Table Seven. There are two women sitting at the table, talking about something. Suddenly one of them, a brunette, laughs and the blond joins her. The brunnette's eyes wander over the interior of The Corner Cafe and she takes a sip of water. Her eyes land on me, and I hear her start coughing on her water. I sigh; of course my shirt would make her start coughing. I walk over to the table, my shoulders slumped.

In a defeated voice, I say, "Hello. My name is Nick and I'll be your server today."

Both of the girls stare at my shirt.

Okay, I get it. Look at the guy wearing a pink shirt! Let's all laugh at him, and stare at him, and make him feel uncomfortable. Well guess what?

Real men wear pink!

Yeah, that's right. I went there. You got something to say about it?

Good God, I'm going insane. I'm talking to myself in my thoughts. That's a sign of going crazy, right?

Oh, how am I asking? I'm talking to myself again. Stop. Seriously, Nick, stop.

I'm doing it again.

The blond leans forward and I can see down her halter top. I hurriedly look at her face. It seems familiar; but where have I seen those high cheekbones, brown eyes, and those freckles before?

Eh. Whatever. I shrug it off.

"Hi. I'm Max," the blond on introduces herself. I hear the brunnette snickering.

Is she trying to flirt with me? "I'm Nick. Would you like to order something? Today's special is strawberry cheesecake."

Max licks her lips and smirks at me. "I'll take the cheesecake. On second thought, can I have you?"

Suddenly all I want to do is let her have me. Let her kiss me and do whatever she wants to me.

"Would you like me with or without whipped cream?" Did I just make a witty remark? I believe I did.

Max says, "Actually, can I take that to go?"

"I get off in five minutes."


What's wrong with me? I just agreed to go make out with some random girl I don't even know. What the hell is wrong with me lately? Making a stupid bet with Anthony, now agreeing to do this!

I mean, sure Max was good looking, but I'm not that kind of guy. I can't just go hook up with someone I don't even go. But I at least had to go explain to her that I couldn't do it. I stepped out of the side door into the alley.

"May? I'm here."

I see the brunnette standing next to her. Huh. Odd. I turn to Max.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do this." I shake my head. "I don't even know your name."

Max has a hint of a smile on her face.

"My name is Max. Maximum Ride."

The name brings forward a picture of a young girl with wings. I dismiss it.

Then I notice the needle in her handle.

"And I'm sorry about this."

And then I black out.


So how my little excursion in Fang's head? Good? Bad?