Unfortunately, I fail miserably as I find an image of Rachel appearing before me behind closed eyes. I imagine her naked and reaching for me while moaning my name. My hand slips down my body to my hard length, twitching and pressing into the bed. I grab it and give it several earnest strokes.
“Rachel,” I moan into the bed.
***
Work sucks, which is why I am hiding out in the stock room while Miss Blue Balls is handling the front of the store. We’ve just gotten a huge wave of customers, and really, I should be out there helping, but then again, I don’t want to. And why should I? She thinks I’m an asshole, so why change any of that? Let her think I’m an asshole.
The stock room is pretty quiet and does wonders for my pounding head. I hear the bell ring with the entrance of more customers and some mumbling from several people in the front. You should probably go help her, a small voice in the back of my head whispers. That’s the tenth time that bell has rung. I grind my teeth and force myself to remain in my chair. Fuck that, I tell the stupid small voice. I’m an asshole. Asshole! She can handle it on her own. Bitch is probably going to quit soon anyway.
I eye a pair of Hokas and immediately grab them, unpacking the box and looking down at the blue and white shoes. I can’t help her now. I’m too busy looking at these sexy beasts. They’re the Rocket X. Lightweight. Thick insole with a comfortable fit. I’ve tried them on at least a hundred times but they are two hundred dollars over my budget. My budget being free. And sadly, even a track star isn’t enough to get the returned Hokas given to me by the store owner.
“One of these days,” I whisper to them while petting the side of one. “One of these days you will be on my feet.”
“Garcia, are you going to work today or what?” I hear Rachel’s shrill voice ask from behind.
“I am working,” I say, putting the shoes back inside their box.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, really,” I say, glancing over my shoulder and watching her cross her arms.
I ignore the memory of her falling back against the couch, or the way she tossed her head back and moaned. Or at least, I try to ignore the memory, yet it leaves me wanting much more than I know she’s willing to give. I purse my lips while turning around. Millie, I tell myself. Think of motor boating Millie’s giant breasts. Not of stupid psycho bitch. But rather than Millie coming to mind I wonder what Rachel would do if I motor boated her, instantly imagining her hands clawing at my shoulders.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I mutter while shoving the shoes back onto the shelf.
“The problem with you,” says Rachel coming around to face me, her hands on her hips now while she glares down at me, “is that there’s a huge line at the counter with your stupid name on it,” she says while pointing at me.
I roll my eyes. “So? You seem to be handling yourself fine.”
“Handling?” She throws her hands up into the air. I swear if her eyes get any bigger they’ll pop out of her skull. The imagery definitely kills any boner I have. “I’m not handling it you asshole.” I roll my eyes again. Here we go… “There are customers looking at shoes, customers asking about runner’s belts, customers wanting to test out their running gait,” she counts on her fingers, “and you’re in the back just twiddling your fingers.”
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m busy.” I look her up and down, taking in her black leggings, converse shoes and pink work shirt. She’s wearing a high ponytail today, which I have to say is quite hot. I kinda want to pull it and see if her eyes will bug out. “I guess you would know nothing about that.” I smirk and give myself a mental high five. Nice burn.
She scoffs and before I realize what she’s going to do, she’s stepping around me and grabbing the chair. “Whoa!” I shout, trying to hold onto the armrests, but it’s too late and she’s surprisingly strong when she’s pissed. She swings the chair sharply, dumping my sorry ass onto the floor.
“There!” She shouts when my knees smack against the hard ground. I groan while picking myself up. I catch her storming out of the stock room, her ponytail swishing to the side from her jerky movements. “Busy my fucking ass,” she mutters.
“Fuck, you gotta be kidding me,” I yell, stalking out of the room and stopping immediately when I see at least ten or fifteen people in the store room turning their eyes on me. Several make a face, most probably from my language and I chuckle awkwardly while I shift back and forth from foot to foot.
“Excuse me,” someone waves from the counter, sounding annoyed while holding a runner’s belt and several packets of GU. She shakes them and scowls at me. “I’ve been waiting forever and would really like to buy this.”
I search for Rachel, finding her at the treadmill watching a customer’s gait and sigh, not even finding myself capable to scowl at her. She wouldn’t even notice anyway.
I smack on my best smile and stride towards the cash register. “Let me help you with that.” I take the belt and packets and ring them up quickly. “Did you find everything alright?” I ask while glancing at Rachel, who casts me a devious smile.
One point Rachel, I think while my fake smile softens into a real one.
***
I grab my bag in the stock room and watch Rachel shrug into her denim jacket. She seems to be
