Page 3 of Romanced By the Rat
Charlotte
Walking inside feels like coming home. Better than coming home since that’s the exact place I’m running away from. I've always wanted to visit France, but the opportunity never arose. My parents wouldn’t allow me to leave the country without them, and they had no desire to travel across the world.
I’m not an idiot. As I step into the two-story shingled building with the wordRatcliff’shanging over the entrance, I’m not disillusioned enough to believe I actually stepped into a real French cafe, but the regal yet straightforward decor of the place seems like a good substitute. At least for now, when it’s the only piece of Europe I’ll be getting anytime soon.
“Are you meeting someone?” the young blonde hostess asks, bringing my attention away from the white lined tables and rich mahogany walls.
“Oh, no. Just a table for one.”
“Name?”
“Charlotte,” I reply.
The girl presses a screen in front of her and then picks up a menu. “Follow me.” She turns on her heels toward the dining room.
A blond, muscular waiter grabs my attention, his eyes catching mine. He’s completely soaked, revealing defined pectorals underneath his tight white button-down. My cheeks heat, and I turn back to the blonde head before me, willing my heart to slow down and focusing on making it to my table.
Sure, the guy was hot, but there are plenty of hot guys in the world. I shouldn’t be so frazzled by one snagging the corner of my attention. Of course, I know the reason. I haven’t been properly laid in probably like, ever.
I’m not a virgin, which kind of makes it worse. I’ve tasted the first layer of pleasure but haven’t entirely given myself over. My parents never let me out of their sight. The only time I got intimate with a man was in brief encounters in church utility closets. A man can’t take his time with me when any second someone could walk in on us and slap us with a felony.
I must admit that the desire for passion is one of the main reasons I left home. I’m twenty-one years old. I shouldn’t have run away, but my parents made it clear that I either enroll in med school or they would cut me off. The threat didn’t scare me like I imagined they hoped. If anything, it gave me the idea that I could actually leave. The worst they could do to me is not pay for my life. I had saved enough money from birthdays, holidays, and graduations over the years to buy myself a bus ticket and secure an apartment.
Before I left, I even found a job as an online college prep tutor. The pay isn’t amazing, but it’s enough to get me by. I couldn’t move to New York City or Los Angeles, but I found a quaint town called Ghostlight Falls, far away from my parents and their suffocating expectations. Sure, there were articles about strange lore surrounding the town’s history, but I didn’t care. I starteda new life that is all my own. Including eventually finding a hot guy, bringing him back to my place, and letting him fuck me into oblivion. Maybe that last bit is reserved for well down the road, but I can’t help my body’s wish that it would come sooner rather than later. Hopefully, a mouth-watering meal will keep my desires more manageable.
The hostess motions for me to sit at the small two-person table and places a black menu in front of me. “Your waiter will be with you shortly,” she says before leaving me alone.
I scan the restaurant again, noticing the tables filled with couples or families. I’m momentarily self-conscious, but no one seems to pay me any mind. Loneliness isn’t a foreign concept to me. My parents hovered over me every second of my life, but I always felt the vast emptiness in their companionship. Now, I just don’t have warm bodies beside me to disguise my solitude. It’s on display for the world. Surprisingly, it feels more freeing than exposing.
As I take a closer look at the people around me, I realize many of them aren’t actuallypeople.Bodies covered in hair, wings, green skin, hooved feet, and horns are just a few of the differences I notice between myself and my fellow restaurant guests. I shouldn’t be surprised. I researched the town after all, but it still takes normy me a second to adjust. My staring gets a little heavy-handed, and the gremlin sitting alone next to me captures my gaze.I smile, scanning down the small, curated menu.
My server, Trisha, comes over quickly and takes my drink order. Her smile fades as a bang across the room grabs her attention. I follow her gaze, catching the handsome server from before lying on the ground with a disassembled salad sprinkled around him.
“Jesus Christ,” she says under her breath, and I assume she didn’t mean for me to hear. She turns back to me, her customerservice mask dropping back into place. “I’m sorry about the disturbance. I’ll be right back with your Pinot Noir.”
“No problem.” I smile, examining the blond server as Trisha walks away. His cheeks are bright red, and his wet shirt is streaked with vinegar and tomato guts. He jumps to his feet, apologizing to everyone around him while picking up bits of lettuce from his chest.
Poor guy. I wonder if I’d feel for him so deeply if he weren’t so attractive, but maybe I see a bit of myself in him. I’ve always excelled at every task I’ve attempted. Maybe not at first, but not with much struggle. My parents made it known from a young age that I would be a doctor when I grew up. It didn’t matter which type. I at least had that choice, but no daughter of theirs would go through life without an MD. I didn’t mind the expectation. In high school, I’d always been good at science. Textbooks spoke to me, and my memory held onto facts like a vice, but during my first lab in undergrad, I discovered the truth. No textbook could prepare me for actually working on a human. I’d gone deep into my research. There had to be a medical doctor who didn’t practice on patients. I even considered working with dead people in some capacity, but I quickly discovered I didn’t have the stomach for that either. I could have forced myself to pursue one path. I could have made it work, but it was then that I really started to reflect on myself. Did I even want to be a doctor? No. I had no idea whatIactually desired. I needed to run away to Ghostlight Falls to find myself.
As I look at the wet, dressing-stained server, I can’t help but imagine our similarities if I had barreled through and continued to medical school. I would have floundered like a beached whale. I wonder if this guy is dealing with the same affliction, forced to do something to appease another part of himself. Or maybe I’m just trying my best to find similarities between us becauseI’d desperately like to fuck him, even with a stray crouton on his shoulder.
Luckily, my wine comes from my left and diverts my absurd line of reasoning. I shouldn’t be so drawn to him. It must be the emptiness in my stomach making everything so intense. I sip my wine as I scan the menu. There aren’t many vegetarian options, but when I spot ratatouille, I know my choice. It’s always been my favorite dish. I order, and am delighted that my food comes in only fifteen minutes.
The layers of red, green, and yellow form a perfect spiral in the ceramic white dish. The rich smell of herbs wafts through my nostrils, and as I pierce the soft vegetables with my fork, my mouth is already watering. The first bite is orgasmic, and I close my eyes and audibly moan as the flavors flood my taste buds. This is the best ratatouille I’ve ever had. Much better than any of my brief sexual encounters.
I open my eyes, surprised to find the handsome waiter wiping a table in front of me, gaze locked on mine. My heart beats faster and slower at the same time. There’s want in his eyes, no mistaking it. I gulp, my cheeks heating. His lips part, and I swear he’s going to say something, but Trisha walks out behind him, calling his name, Jeremy, and stealing his attention.
I’m knocked out of my trance, hot, bothered, and fidgeting in my seat. I can’t return to my meal—not yet. I need to cool off. I take a sip of my ice water as I scan the fake plants lining the rafters of the ceiling. Something scurries into the shadows, and I jump. Does Ratcliff’s have rats? It should gross me out, but after that bite I just had, I’d eat here again even if the rats were the ones cooking the food.
Chapter four
Ramsay
Surprisingly, being a rat isn’t half bad. Okay, no. It fucking sucks. But if I don’t think about my reality for too long and instead pretend that the gourmet food I get to enjoy every night doesn’t come from the garbage can, it’s like I’m on a much-needed vacation. I’m the only rat in this joint, thanks to the numerous traps in the attic and around the rafters. Most rats don’t know how to avoid those death pits, leaving me the smartest animal around. I could never say the same for myself when I was a human, so I revel in the small win of my dominance in intelligence.
I’ve always enjoyed people-watching. Thank God, because it consumes most of my time now. I felt invisible as a human. Sure, I was good-looking, but I appeared as an extra, melting into the background. I could sit on a park bench and watch people for hours, and no one would glance my way. Now, it’s even more so. It’s more important to stay hidden, but my small frame and ability to blend in keep me out of the patrons' eyes in the restaurant.
There’s one waiter who continuously catches my attention. His name is Jeremy and he’s new. He’s the type of guy who probably has never felt invisible. He’s impressively tall with movie-star good looks. I don’t know if he notices it, but everyone turns his way whenever he passes by. Even me. He’s my complete opposite, and I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s a shit waiter though. I used to serve in high school, and I knew my way around the restaurant. I probably would have stuck with it full-time if they provided me with room and board. God, does he need direction, someone to lead. The thought sends a shiver down my spine and a twitch to my tiny rat penis.
