The All-Nite Diner located in the middle of New York City was never empty. The waitresses bustled from table to table, taking orders from the sketchy light night customers. Unfortunately, the night staff usually served the drunks and drug addicts coming in from the cold after a long night of partying. A young waitress, about eighteen years old, was used to the pesky clientele.

However, on that particular night she had just about enough of a group of drunk teenage boys. After repeatedly declining to give them her phone number the waitress was ready to knock one of them out. As she filled their water glasses from a plastic jug one of the boys leaned in towards her, squinting to read her name tag. She could smell the alcohol radiating off of him like bad cologne.

"So Tara," the drunk boy drawled. "Can you grab us the bill? And I'm still waiting on that phone number, come on baby, you know you want me." His friends laughed as Tara rolled her eyes and stalked away before she did anything she would regret.

There were many things she wanted to do to the obnoxious drunk boys but all she could do was pray they would linger around the diner when her shift ended. Then she would give them a piece of her mind. A grin slid onto her sharp face as she thought about it. Out of all the rambunctious people that came through the All-Nite Diner this group of drunk idiots had been one of the worst.

Tara returned to their table with the bill in hand, she none to politely slammed it down on the table in front of the boy with a wad of cash in his hands. As she turned to walk away the boy grabbed her tightly by the wrist. "Just hang on there sweetheart," his words were slurred and Tara wondered how this guy was even awake. "Why don't you let me slip this hundie in the waistband of your jeans and you can keep the change." The boy attempted a wink but his whole face scrunched up instead.

"How about," Tara began sweetly, "you take your drunk ass friends and get the hell out of here before I call the cops." She snatched the one hundred dollar bill out of his hand and tucked it into her apron, turning on her heel without another word to the pests. That's when she noticed him standing in the doorway.

His hair was the darkest black and stuck up in its usual sexy manner. His clothes were clean and crisp as always. The white t-shirt clung to his muscled chest leaving nothing to the imagination. His familiar leather jacket was slung over his shoulder, making him radiate bad-ass vibes. Tara couldn't decide if she was happy or furious to see her ex-boyfriend standing in the entryway of the diner.