underage by a few years. His smile creeps me out a little bit, but if a smile is all that he’s offering, I can return that. I always ask for paper instead of plastic. It’s harder to swing a paper bag around as a weapon, like you can with a plastic bag. I’m a fast learner.
After making my purchases, I walk down the sidewalk toward the bus stop, gazing inside the shop windows as I go by. I love admiring all of the items I can never afford to have, like books, new clothes, or even jewelry. Just as I pass by my favorite bookstore, a large figure carrying a giant box steps out of the door and slams right into me before I can get out of the way. I watch in horror as my bag of groceries crashes to the ground. My stomach plummets when I hear the worst sound of all…the whiskey bottle shattering inside the bag.
I suck in an enormous lungful of air and fall to my knees. “No, no, no…” I whisper through a sob. Tears well up in my eyes at the idea of going home empty-handed.
“Shit, I’m so sorry!” I hear the stranger say, as he sits his box on the ground and kneels down in front of me. “Let me help you clean this up.”
“No, no, no…” I repeat, lost in the idea of how my father will react to this. I’m still not looking up at whoever just signed my death warrant, but I watch his strong hands as he scoops the shattered glass and the soaking wet boxes back into the torn paper bag. The spilt milk mixed with the smell of whiskey is nauseating.
“Damn, I think all of this is ruined. I’m really sorry,” he continues, with a hopeless apology that won’t keep the bruises at bay.
All I can do is stare at my shaking hands. Maybe I can go ask Nico for money from my side account to buy more groceries. Surely he can help me. But then I remember he left this afternoon to go up north for a visit with his mother, who has fallen ill. I don’t have a phone number to reach him, and I’m sure he won’t be able to help from long-distance anyway. This is it then. I have to face the music and go home empty-handed. I’ll survive. I always survive. I only have one more year until I can get out of this town.
A warm hand reaches out and forces my chin up. “Look at me,” a stern voice commands gently.
His glacial blue eyes dominate all other thoughts at the moment. The way he looks at me, I realize he must have been trying to grab my attention for a while. I slowly come back down from my panic.
“There you are…” he says softly, sounding a bit relieved. With one hand still holding my chin up, he wipes the tears out of my eyes with his other hand. I clear my throat, but I’m still unable to speak to this stunningly attractive person. Now that my vision isn’t clouded, I can fully take him in. His entire demeanor commands his complete attention. I don’t know why, but I suddenly crave the idea of
Even though he’s crouching down in front of me, I can tell this guy has long, muscular legs. I’m five foot ten, so it’s hard to come across people who are much taller than I am. I like the idea of being able to look up into his eyes. He’s also fit. If the polo shirt he’s wearing with the logo of the local hotshot football team didn’t give it away, his large shoulders and wide chest would have.
Looking beyond his intense blue eyes, I notice the warm, dark brown color of his hair, and I’m surprised to see sporadic natural highlights spread throughout. With his free hand, he reaches up and threads his fingers through the strands and lets them fall haphazardly back down. The way the pieces fall perfectly in place makes it seem as if even his hair knows how to submit to his strong will. I begin to wonder how my body would feel under those fingers. Would it submit as easily as his hair?
He clears his throat, which pulls my attention back from the unexpectedly sensual thoughts I’m having. “You realize these are just groceries, right?” He slyly grins at me in question. I nod my head, but still can’t reply. “I’ll replace them for you. It’s the least I can do for knocking you over.”
As he helps me up to a standing position, I think about rejecting his offer. It’s not like he knew I was going to be walking in front of the door at that exact moment. Just because a measly bag of groceries brings me to my knees in a pathetic crying pile, that doesn’t mean he should have to buy anything for me. On the other hand, I’m not in any position to decline help. It’s either I save my pride and deal with my dad’s wrath or let this stranger, whom I’ll never see again, assist me. I choose the stranger.
“Thank you.” I meekly smile, while wiping the last of the moisture from my eyes.
When we finally extend to our full heights, I am excited to see that he’s at least a good four or five inches taller than me. Seeing the full package standing in front of me doesn’t hurt either… he’s gorgeous. I watch as he reaches down to grab the box he almost mauled me with and sets it into the back of a giant, four-door, black pickup truck. I don’t know much about cars since I ride the bus, but this truck has to be expensive. There aren’t any scratches on the paint and not a speck of rust on the rims.
Unlike me, he actually belongs on this side of town. I just work here. Our city is divided into two vastly different economic statuses, and I’ve never understood why they never just separated into two different cities. This side of town has the golden-child high school that receives all the funding for their state championship-winning football team and award-winning academic decathlon team. I think my school had ten girls get pregnant last year instead of twelve, which was the running total from the previous year. I call that progress.
The beautiful stranger comes over and scoops up my pitiful, ruined bag of groceries and begins to rifle through it before tossing it into a nearby trashcan.
“My brother is actually at the store right now, picking up groceries for my mom. Mind if I just text him a list of everything you had? That way you don’t have to go shopping again, and we can just go grab some coffee instead.” He nods his head toward the chic little cafe across the street.
“Uh… sure. I can tell you what I needed,” I reply.
“No worries, I remember everything you had.” He shrugs his shoulders while quickly typing out a list on his expensive-looking, touchscreen phone.
I nervously bounce on my feet, feeling uncomfortable with this favor. “Can you ask him to put my groceries in a paper bag, please?”
“Of course, they always put them in bags,” he says, only half paying attention to me.
“No, it needs to be a paper bag, not plastic,” I state adamantly, causing him to look up from his phone.
“Okay… no plastic, understood.” He eyes me curiously, but there is no way I’ll be explaining that one. As he slides his phone into his back pocket, he looks down into my eyes. “I’m Jace, by the way. Sorry about my earlier introduction,” he says apologetically.
When he wraps his arm around my shoulders, I smile inwardly at his forwardness. “I’m Audrey… Audrey Mills,” I reply. As we walk toward the cafe, I tease, “Are we just getting coffee so you can get out of shopping?”
He dramatically brings his free hand up to his chest and gasps, “Whatever do you mean? Me? A guy? Get out of shopping? Never!” He’s the one teasing me now.
A laugh bubbles up out of my throat. “Alright, alright, I get it. Boys don’t like shopping.”
When we approach the door, he reaches out and opens it for me. I’ve never been around someone who acts like a gentleman before. I didn’t know guys like this really existed. When I smile up at him on my way through the door, I silently thank him.
“If you want to go shopping, babe, I’ll take you right now. I figured I just met this beautiful girl and I’d rather get to know her instead of shopping at a lame grocery store,” he responds with a sly grin on his face.
I point my finger at his chest. “You’re a charmer, you know that? I should watch myself around you.” He winks at me and continues to pull us along toward the counter. This is another thing on my long list of ‘Never Have I Evers.’ I’ve never been in a cafe. There doesn’t seem to be a point in going inside when you can’t afford anything. I understand that a cafe sells coffee, but the menu board seems to have a thousand different drinks that I have never even heard of. I’m seeing words like ‘Frappuccino,’ ‘Macchiato,’ and ‘Americano,’ all of which are lost on me. I was already starting to doubt whether or not I fit in here, but this just confirms it. Quickly, I scan the board so I can just order something, anything.
As I stand, lost and confused, I feel his warmth as he comes up behind me. “Let me pick your drink. I see an open leather chair over there you should go and snag,” he says, as he points over to the crowded seating area.
“Am I that easy to read?”
“I’ve got you covered. Now go grab that seat,” he says with a wink, avoiding my question. It’s embarrassing that he can tell how out of place I am here, but I delight in the idea of him taking control of the situation. I can let him do that.
