The Art of Jumping [rewritten]

i- records and wind-blown hair

With the Nirvana and Pat Benatar albums in her arms, she sidestepped to the shelves with the CDs. She thumbed through them, her thoughts shifting to the vinyl rather than the CDs that were directly in front of her, and she assumed it was because they were vinyl records. With another CD resting atop her records, Drew turned to the counter and stepped forward, her smile small and relaxed, a huge contrast from the angry and anxious feeling she had when she first burst through the doors.

The boy looked up as she set her items on the counter, a forced smile on his face. "Is this everything for you today?" he asked her, and she was fairly surprised by the raspiness in his voice. Though, when Drew studied him through occasional peeks through hair that had fallen over her face, she decided his voice suited him.

She paused, her gaze narrowed at him. Standing at the door, she hadn't realized how familiar he was to her. Drew didn't know where she knew him from, but knew that she did. He might have gone to her school, but she didn't think they had any classes together. He was cute, so she would have notice him, right?

She nodded in reply, her mind racing with confused thoughts as she tried to place where she knew this tall, lanky boy from. Not knowing where she knew him was making her flustered, so as he punched in the prices for her purchases, her gaze shifted to his nametag pinned onto the breast of his black long sleeved shirt. Aaron it read, and she decided then that he looked like an Aaron and held himself like an Aaron. She had hoped that learning his name would clear the befuddled thoughts in her mind, but she had never met an Aaron, and so it only frustrated Drew more.

"Alright, your total is $47.84," he said, finally, lifting his blue, blue gaze to meet Drew's grey one. His expression was open, welcoming. She immediately recognized it as the "helping a customer" face, because she wore it for hours on end as she waitressed at a small diner a few blocks from the store. His eyes, though a striking blue, held a look of contempt that clearly illustrated his desire to be anywhere but there.

She grimaced and ran a hand through her hair as she reached into her bag for her worn leather wallet. She paid, holding her breath as it processed, hoping she had enough money in her account to pay for everything. "Would you like to sign up for the Note Worthy newsletter?" he asked, his hand reaching for a paper.

"Newsletter?" Drew asked, a quizzical expression crossing her features, "What would that entail?"

Aaron seemed to sigh and then suck in a huge breath before he launched into a speech that he had probably said thousands of times. At the end of his monologue, he slid a paper towards her. Of course she wanted to know when new shipments of vinyl and CDs came and so she wrote her name, phone number, and e-mail address on one of the lines toward the bottom.

He stuffed her receipt into the bag and slid it across the counter. "Is that everything for you?" he asked politely.

Drew nodded and turned to go, hesitating when her back was facing him. She had to know where she knew him from, or else she wouldn't be able to sleep, and she already had a hard enough time with that. She whirled to face Aaron again, his expression confused and a little wary. "I know you from somewhere, don't I?" she asked, taking a half a step towards the counter.

"No," he replied with a firm shake of his head. She didn't know why, but she knew he was lying.

"No, I do. Are you from my school?" Drew said.

Aaron raised his eyebrows at her, and could guess that he was questioning her intelligence. She could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn't say whatever it was he wanted to. Instead he asked, "What school do you go to?"

"Jefferson," Drew said, knowing she sounded a bit too enthusiastic for this Aaron guy.

His eyebrows furrowed and a thoughtful look crossed his face. "Maybe you've seen me in the halls," he acquiesced.