Rest in My Arms
Bianca stepped out of the house. Take a break—it's fine, she thought.
That's what Carlyle had told her, but she couldn't hold back any longer. She'd been patient so far, worried she might get in the way. The air on the main street was crisp and clear. Looking up now and then filled her vision with the vast blue winter sky. Beneath it, Bianca hurried along, her breath forming faint clouds laced with anticipation and excitement.
Will I be okay...? Still, he was her boyfriend—such an embarrassing word, but not untrue at all. Now that she was a girl, visiting the workplace of the guy she liked, her boyfriend's job, no less. She'd psyched herself up big time. Lately, she'd been watching outfit videos and buying tons of clothes, agonizing over what to wear. Her final choice: a pure white, innocent long coat; a charming three-tone checkered cashmere muffler; a matching skirt; a small beige eco-bag. Brown low-heeled shoes for a touch of accent. Today's concept? Cute and fresh, she supposed—the kind most guys would like.
Her soft, light golden waves cascaded over the snowy coat, her amethyst eyes sparkled with expectation, her light cream makeup like dewdrops on her skin, her cheeks faintly flushed. It was no wonder men on the street stole glances at her lovely figure. Of course, she paid them no mind. Bianca quickened her steps toward her destination and soon spotted a sleek building right in the middle of the bustling afternoon street on this mildly chilly winter day.
Subtle classical music drifted out, elegant and refined. The sign on the second floor glowed with the letters Milliore. Thump-thump. Her heart raced.
Once I go in there... She'd see Carlyle. Would he be happy? He wouldn't hate it, right? She'd briefly considered bringing her friend Shasha, but decided to come alone. They could spend time together after his shift. Gulp. Second floor. Swallowing dryly from nerves, Bianca gently pushed open the door with her small hand.
Soft classical music flowed amid tasteful lighting in shades of color. Milliore, the upscale cocktail bar. Business was booming as always. The great atmosphere surely helped, but the noticeably high number of female patrons hinted it wasn't the only reason for its success.
Carlyle Schultz had been working here for over a year now. He was plenty used to the job, but today, focusing was harder than ever.
"Here. Two piña coladas and one apple martini."
As he placed the cocktail glasses from the manager on the shelf, Carlyle glanced sideways. The manager leaned in with a teasing whisper.
"Your cute girlfriend shows up and you lose it. Want me to let you off early...?"
Carlyle was tempted for a second but shook his head. He still had work to finish.
"No, Manager."
"Then focus!"
The manager clapped his shoulder heartily with a booming laugh and words about it being a good time. Carlyle's face heated up; he rubbed it dry.
Getting distracted like this. It was unavoidable. Ding-a-ling. The bell rang as Bianca Shama entered—a woman dressed to perfection, her face alight with excitement, stepping into his workplace. The room fell silent. Fellow staff, even the manager. Carlyle was no different; he barely registered his coworkers' chatter.
—Whoa... who's that...?
—An idol or model...?
—Feels like she's looking this way...
Bianca glanced around, and her face soon bloomed like a flower. No special reason.
"Ah, Carlyle...!"
She waved prettily with a wildflower smile, and he was utterly entranced.
"What're you doing? Go on."
"Carlyle, you..."
He snapped out of it at the voices around him and strode right over. He nearly hugged her but reined himself in.
"Why'd you come? I'm working."
"J-just...?"
Sudden as it was, he chuckled. He knew why without asking. They faced each other, smiles tugging at their lips.
"..."
"...Bianca?"
Her expression seemed a bit dazed from his view, so he waved a hand in front of her eyes. Focus slowly returned.
"Ah, um..."
Her face flushed; she averted her gaze. Carlyle easily guessed why. He was in his waiter uniform.
"What, does it suit me?"
Teasing her, Bianca nodded faintly. Hesitating a moment with her reddened cheeks, she hurried over and slipped into his arms.
Unable to resist the urge, it seemed.
"Mm, nice..."
Burying her face in his chest, sniffing him, lavishing affection.
"...You smell good, Carlyle."
Driving him crazy, really. His girlfriend, ignoring everyone now. Carlyle didn't mind this Bianca at all. Quite the opposite—he loved it. If the place were different, he'd have laid her down right then. Showing such a moment in front of everyone made formal introductions unnecessary.
—So the lunches too...?
—Yes, Manager.
Carlyle had bragged about it nonstop, so coworkers who knew shot envious looks.
—Carlyle, you...!
—Existence itself is a scam.
What could he do? Bianca Shama was already his catch; he didn't care what others said. With things as they were, she sat alone in a corner. He fretted but had to work. He tried chatting during lulls, but evening at Milliore was hectic.
The bar buzzed. Carlyle Schultz was amazing. Bianca had never realized it so intensely as today. Female customers abounded, and she saw where most of their gazes landed. Carlyle in his waiter uniform was stunning. Blatantly so. His solid frame fully on display, handsome as ever. Serving with focused intensity—it was enough to steal any woman's attention.
...Yeah, exactly. Objectively, Carlyle was blatantly impressive. So why hadn't it hit her before? Giggles and laughter. The bar's women were mostly friendly toward him.
"Are you an idol by any chance?"
"Can you take a photo?"
Bianca crunched her salad veggies.
Throwing themselves at him. Suddenly photos...? With her staring wide-eyed as his girlfriend, what was this woman saying? Her amethyst eyes ignited with jealousy.
Calm down, hold it together. But he was working. Knowing that, she endured. Steadying herself.
Chill out, me...! You're a mature girlfriend. Getting worked up over this would make her seem childish, and Carlyle was hers anyway—no need to mind those vixens. Still, she chewed her salad faster. Crunch-crunch. The odd feeling was inevitable. She knew it was work, that he kept boundaries, but the flirty women around irked her. Deeper down, seeing him so constantly busy didn't sit right either. A strange mix: admirable, pitiable, impressive.
Carlyle, you... Always moving without rest. Focused face as he mixed drinks intently, served them, cleared tables briskly after customers left.
Doing this every day...? For years? While others studied carefree under their parents, just as students. Carlyle had plunged into society then. Independent from the orphanage at fifteen, he'd said.
—Haven't tried much.
She remembered that. On the school trip, lost in the woods, he'd found her. Repaired the cabin fire like a pro—not a one-off skill. As he said, few untried jobs, many gigs under his belt.
If he's done other jobs... Some surely tougher. Obvious. So Bianca watched, mesmerized. Unknowingly. A swell of pity, admiration.
...This is you. The Carlyle she hadn't known. Seeing his unseen efforts firsthand stirred thoughts. Cool. Proud, even. Silly for a peer, not his mom. But proud. Wanting to praise him. That's how moved she was.
All this time, have I... Lived that hard? Natural to reflect. She'd studied diligently, but his world differed. Standing still an hour was tiring; constant motion? Body or mind. That's work, earning pay through labor. When he sighed, massaging his shoulders, furrowing his brow. Their eyes met briefly, he smiled. Hurried to a call. She took it all in.
More than I thought, Carlyle, you're... Really cool. The kind that hooks her even as a girl. Maybe too good for her, still lacking. Realizing that, she stared, entranced. Carlyle Schultz filling her vision wholly. Already liked, but liking more. His hardworking self looked so cool. Of course, a corner of her mind thought:
Work or not... take it easy. Pitiable, touching. Fidgeting, she rang the bell. Gulped her ordered cocktail—non-alcoholic, fine. Time for more.
"Order here—!"
Hopefully Carlyle. Luck struck; Carlyle Schultz came.
"What would you like to order?"
Teasingly playing dumb, so Bianca stated her true desire.
"Carlyle Schultz's time."
His poker face cracked. Grinning helplessly.
"Break time soon."
"Hmm, really...?"
Her face lit up. The manager had some conscience.
Still... Wanted him to rest, even briefly. Or cheer him.
"Sit here a sec."
Pondering, she patted beside her. Carlyle sat hesitantly, puzzled. She hugged him first with an "Ei!"
"Rest in your girlfriend's arms—it's fine."
Someone gasped sharply. But Bianca ignored it. Embarrassing, but sincere; "girlfriend" deliberate. Since he treated her as a customer, sneaky tactic. Impossible to refuse. As expected, stiff Carlyle pulled to her chest, she awkwardly stroked his hair.
"...Rest, dummy."
Irresistible voice, slightly husky clear tone. Telling him to rest while nuzzling, hugging tight, no letting go. Sudden situation dazed Carlyle. Yet his mind eased instantly, forgetting work, eyes closing. A soft smile.
"What now, Manager...?"
"That guy's slacking off."
Stunned staff. Manager cleared his throat: "Let him be—good time." For his usual diligence.
Shift end neared. Bianca and Carlyle left hand in hand, amiably. Manager understanding, they ate dinner together.
—Here, eat!
—I can feed myself.
—Just eat when I feed you.
Bianca extra bold today; Carlyle struggled all around. Felt good, but distracted from work. Sorry to manager.
That's that... Held hands warm. Stroking her small one, he chuckled, lacing fingers.
"Better not come to my work anymore."
"Why...?"
Innocent question.
Obvious, no?
"Someone grabs me and won't let go. Once in a while's fine, but often? Might get fired."
Not wrong; her face reddened.
"Kinda, yeah...?"
"Yeah, probably."
Childish from caring too much.
Apologize to manager next time? Nah. Pondering, her thoughts shifted. Inspired today.
I'll live harder...! More than you, Carlyle. Fist clenched, she asked:
"Or... what if I work there with you?"
"No."
Firm.
"Why not?"
"Don't like lecherous guys eyeing you."
Unexpected. Bianca gaped like a fool; his honest feeling.
"Who says I'm that pretty?"
"Pre, pretty..."
Her face burned. Innocent Bianca clueless. Unaware, she'd drawn eyes all day. Alone at a cocktail bar, captivating men just existing. Carlyle didn't like it.
Pretty, so I get it, but... Wanted to hide her away. Too pretty, anxious. Hid possessiveness; pure Bianca might flee. Staff stared openly, even guys with dates glanced.
"Don't know? Fine. You're mine anyway."
"...What, suddenly."
Blushing, cheeks puffed. No denial, good enough. They strolled winter streets amiably. Christmas not yet, but two weeks away. Street trees twinkled with small lights. Shopfronts prepped unfinished Christmas trees. People breathed foggy breaths. Thick coats and scarves wrapped tight—winter vivid.
"Hey, Carlyle. Carols soon...?"
"Mm, probably?"
"Kinda exciting."
"Together on Christmas Eve?"
Sudden question; she nodded. Shy voice smaller.
"...Of course."
His low chuckle warmed her.
"Thanks, Bianca."
Held hands couldn't be warmer. Christmas rushed closer. Winter evening streets brimmed with thrill and romance; chilly weather, but hearts toasty. They walked, bought walnut cookies—her keen nose couldn't pass. As always, park bench, sharing foggy breaths.
"So, now what?"
"Home to rest."
"Oh, right. Something to say... Comic Fest?"
Chatting, bickering playfully, sharing cookies. Under soft lights, caught in the mood, lips brushed naturally. Once, twice. Light kisses; she giggled at him.
"Tastes like walnut cookie."
"Bad?"
"Nuh-uh, no."
Three, four. Eve-awaiting kisses sweet as walnut cookies. Their winter uniquely sweet and warm.