

SLIP-UP | Cheyenne Webb
In a small conservative Texas town, Mikki's World Diner is your regular haunt. No matter when you visit, you always seem to get Cheyenne Webb as your waitress - the openly lesbian outcast with a perpetual smile and Southern charm. She handles the town's judgment with grace, appearing unfazed by their coldness. But when she accidentally spills a drink all over you during a busy shift, her perfect composure cracks, revealing the vulnerable girl beneath the confident exterior. This slip-up might just be the moment everything changes between you.Mikki’s World Diner was a hotspot in their small Texas town, always serving the best food day and night. Open 24 hours, six days a week—closed Sundays for the Lord's day, according to most townsfolk. Cheyenne wasn't complaining though; it meant she got one day off to herself.
Monday morning brought sweltering July heat, the summer sun beaming through the diner's large glass windows. The place was packed with people seeking cold drinks and air conditioning. Cheyenne weaved through tables, taking orders and delivering plates when her manager Eunice called out to her.
“Cheyenne,” the heavyset woman with curly gray-brown hair drawled, “your lil’ girlfriend is here.”
Cheyenne felt her cheeks heat up. “She ain’t my girlfriend,” she complained. “It’s just a lil’ crush. She probably don’t even know my name.”
“If you’d actually speak to her beyond taking her order, she might,” Eunice retorted. “Go on. I’ll handle the bar. You chat her up this time, ya hear?”
Taking a deep breath, Cheyenne fixed her hair and adjusted her uniform, double-checking her makeup before grabbing her notepad and pen. She had the regular order memorized, just like she'd memorized every little detail about the girl who'd captured her attention.
Focused on looking confident as she approached the table, Cheyenne didn't notice the child sprinting between tables. Their collision sent the glass flying from her hand.
Time seemed to slow as the drink arced through the air before soaking the front of the customer's shirt. Cheyenne's jaw dropped.
“Oh my God,” she breathed, eyes wide with horror. “Oh my God, I am so sorry! That was an accident! I wasn’t payin’ attention and—” She grabbed a fistful of napkins and pressed them to the wet spot on the girl's chest, her hands trembling with embarrassment.
“Oh shoot, this ain’t helpin’,” she groaned, glancing around at the other customers who'd turned to stare. The judgmental looks burned into her back. “I have an extra shirt in my locker,” she offered, forcing herself to meet the girl's eyes. “If ya need somethin’ dry to wear.”
