Brie saw the young woman enter the store, but she didn't pay her much attention, thinking she was a fan like everyone else who passed through. She stayed by the register and scrolled on her phone, trying to drown out the noise of rowdy soccer fans filling the halls of the arena.
Working a merch store at a sports arena in Houston, Texas wasn't exactly Brie's dream job, but they were the only people who had gotten back to her when she'd filled out a plethora of job applications. So here she was, working a small pop-up store full of merch for a sport she cared nothing about, counting the minutes until it was time for her to go on her lunch break.
Not finding escape in her phone anymore, she set it down on the counter and looked up. The young woman was still milling around, a baseball cap and a red and blue jersey in her hands as she looked at more jerseys in a different color. Brie sometimes thought she should know more about what each color meant, but people only ever asked her if they had more sizes stored somewhere in the back room, despite the fact that her little store didn't have a back room. And this game was a one-time thing, anyway. A game between the Women's National Team and some foreign country.
The young woman was short, that was the first thing Brie noticed about her. Short with long brown hair tied into two braids, a red jersey of her own tucked into a pair of light wash jeans. Brie found it curious that this woman was clutching a jersey, two now as she grabbed another one off the rack, when she was already wearing one; they weren't the most fashionable things in the world.
"I know, I must look like a crazy fan or something. Well, I kind of am, but that's not why I'm stockpiling your merchandise," the woman said a little while later, shrugging a little as she set all her stuff down on the counter in front of Brie, which was more than the young cashier initially thought. There was a poster, a mini soccer ball that hadn't been inflated yet, an extra hat, and a couple t-shirts. The woman wasn't kidding when she said she was a fan.
Still, Brie flushed at having been called out for staring; she was never really that good at masking her emotions. Trying to save face, she gave the woman a smile. "Oh, that's okay. That's why it's all here, right?"
"Yes, but this might look a little excessive to anyone. One person with enough merch to gift the entire national team?" The woman grinned, and Brie thought that it was a nice smile, that it spoke to her obviously friendly demeanor. "It's for my siblings. I have seven of them. And a niece and nephew."
"Ah, that explains the extra tiny jerseys," Brie said as she scanned the shirts in question.
The young woman hummed as she patted her pockets, obviously looking for a card to pay for everything. "Um, this is really awkward," she said sheepishly.
Just when she was starting to like this girl. Brie sighed, running a hand through her hair. She herself had never had to deal with this kind of situation, she was hoping this was a genuine mistake and not some extreme ploy to rob her and the arena of their merchandise.
"Okay, I know how this looks, but I have an explanation and hopefully a solution," the woman said, biting her thumbnail.
Brie thought about it for a second. She had been bored before this woman walked in, and this was entertainment served up to her on a silver platter. "I'm all ears."
She didn't respond right away, her hands going over the pockets of her jeans one last time as if some form of payment would magically appear there. "So, the thing is, my boyfriend is actually more fond of carrying a purse than I am, so I always give him my stuff to carry for me. He's a dream that way."
Brie had a hard time believing that. All of the guys she knew wouldn't be caught dead with a purse, but maybe this girl and her boyfriend weren't from around here. Except there was one thing missing. "So where's the dream guy?"
