What the hell did I just say?!
He gets a kick out of my outburst, chuckling under his breath and shaking his head as he rings up my chocolate bar. I feel like I should just dig my grave right here.
The thing about social anxiety is it’s not always the inability to engage in social situations. It also comes in the form of spewing the most absurd comments, just to ease the barely held together tension coursing through your body.
I have the luxury of experiencing both.
He holds up my book, waving it in front of me. “I was talking about this.” He gestures with his other hand to the beer. “And this.” I do a double-take of the book I chose and squeeze my eyes shut. I open them again quickly, hoping that somehow the cover has changed in the seconds my eyes were closed.
My eyes nearly bulge out of my head. Of course, of course, the book I chose has a half-naked couple on the front touching and staring seductively at one another.
Oh, God. Out of all the books I could have grabbed, I would grab the one that looks like soft porn. Plus the forty. Yep, he’s definitely thinking I’m some love-torn masturbator who spends her Wednesdays hiding in her room drinking, crying, and getting herself off.
I’m like a deer in headlights, unable to move and just staring at him. C’mon Cam, think smart! Think smart! You can get yourself out of this!
I look at him with what I hope is an I’m not at all fazed by his comment look in my eyes, but damn. Blue eyes; of course, he has blue eyes. Not only are they a beautiful ocean blue...they seem to be piercing into me now with curiosity.
I say the first thing that comes to mind. “It’s for my brother!” And, this just keeps getting worse. That was the exact opposite of the first thing that came to mind.
With a wink, he says, “He should really stick to the classics.” What does he know about the classics? He’s resting one arm on the counter, and he taps on the book from hell before adding, “Chapter twenty-five is where it really gets steamy.”
He reads romance novels, too? I shake my head at the thought.
With a tight smile, I reply, “Yeah, uh, I’ll let him know.” How much worse can this get? He’s leaning towards me, both elbows on the counter, but I shy away from him, uncomfortable. His eyes immediately widen with concern, and he stands up straight.
His voice is much more professional now. “Your total comes to $13.50.”
I place a twenty on the counter and quickly remove my hand, placing it in my pocket. He takes the money, gets my change, and gently places it on the counter, stepping back when finished. I look at him, skeptical. I must have freaked him out so much he’s afraid to make contact with me.
I try to end this awkward interaction on a positive. “Thanks,” I say as I collect my money.
He responds sincerely, “No problem at all, and if you ever need--”
“I won’t. Goodnight,” I interrupt, then turn and burst through the glass door.
I’m speed walking down the street, clutching my green Jansport and the white plastic bag holding the contents of doom. I don’t stop until the gas station is several blocks behind me, and I’ve turned into an alleyway. I lean up against a wall until I feel my heart return to normal.
I take in the quiet and secluded alley, and it’s just what I need to feel like I’m away from any and all human life. Just me, and what Ihope is a sweet little puppy rummaging through the dumpster I’m currently next to…
◆◆◆
I slowly back away from the dumpster because the “puppy” is starting to sound a lot more like a rat. I walk down the alley, looking up and admiring the sky above me.
It isn’t quite nighttime yet, but the sky is sporting a pink-orange hue, so I know it’s approaching. The light makes my long, unruly brown hair appear more golden as I look down and twist some in my fingers. It’s quiet and serene here; everything my life has never been, but exactly what I need.
The alley itself is mainly tall, white vinyl fences separating the backs of homes and a couple of stores with a small driveway area. Another large green dumpster is placed right beside a metal door that leads to “Bagels & More.”
As I walk deeper into the alley, I contemplate whether I should stay here and relax in my newfound zen, or go home, head straight for my room, and lock the door. Either way, this warming beer in my bag will be put to good use, and as much as I hate to admit it, so will the book.
I spot a plastic chair next to a white concrete wall with a brown garage door in the center and take it as a sign to sit down.
I sit in the chair for an hour and a half. The forty is almost done, and I’m knees deep into this damn book from hell.
Well, if hell consisted of two people who were once best friends but now hate each other and have so much sexual chemistry, the book is bound to burst into flames...then yes, from hell.
I never knew I could be a sucker for a steamy romance novel.
“So, how does your brother like the book?” I jump at the voice, looking up to find the cashier from the gas station standing over me.
Oh shit, not again...
Despite being alone in a dark alley with this strange man, my flight response doesn’t seem to be kicking in like it usually does.
“I, uh...” I can’t seem to find any words.
Damn my life to hell. Why can I never just make a coherent sentence when I’m around new people? You’d think I’m illiterate and not a girl who graduated high school with honors and is now working through
