Despite the sweltering summer heat of the Arizona desert outside, I shivered under the arctic blast of air flowing from the vent directly overhead. Mr. Meeks kept the temperature low in the pharmacy at all times. That way, when he showed up for work—usually in the late afternoon—he didn't have to wait for the building to cool down. For such a thin man, he sweated a lot, especially this time of year.
It had been hours since anyone had come in. To pass the time, I grabbed a bottle of nail polish off the shelf. I chose a metallic blue this time.
Painting my nails became a habit a couple years ago, born out of sheer boredom. I never used to paint them. In fact, I thought it was a frivolous waste of time when I saw my mother or girls at school doing it. Now, I felt weird when I didn't have polish on them.
Besides, what else did I have to do? It's not like I was kept busy by my fascinating career as a pharmacy cashier—and basically every other job in the place that didn't require brains or any type of formal training. We rarely got over four customers a day.
I trudged back to the counter, making note of the polish and its price so I could pay for it before I got off. Though Mr. Meeks insisted I shouldn't worry about paying for little things like that, I felt like I was taking advantage. He and his wife did so much for me already, treating me like one of their own grandchildren. Even buying me presents for Christmas and my birthday.
As I was finishing up my last nail, my mom strolled in. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail that swished with every step she took. She wore a halter top that showed off part of her midriff, along with cutoff denim shorts and her dingy cowboy boots, which she constantly insisted were going to make a comeback. "Just you wait and see," she would tell me every time I begged her to give them up.
"Hi, honey," she said, around smacking on a piece of gum. She plopped her huge leather purse down with a loud clunk from the large buckles.
"Hey."
"What are you up to?"
I held a hand out, waving it around me. "Working."
She frowned at me in that disapproving manner that only a mother could manage. "Don't be a smartass. You know what I mean."
I raised my hand to show off my blue nails. "I'm trying out a new color."
"Ooh! Cute." She took my hand, shifting it so the polish caught the light and gleamed. "Got anymore of that?"
I shook my head and pulled the bottle back toward me, shielding it from her. "We are not having matching nails again, Mother."
"Don't call me 'Mother,' son. It makes me feel old."
I suspected that my mother was suffering from arrested development—the condition, not the television show. She didn't act like a woman nearing forty, more like a twenty-five-year-old. But I guess that's what happens when someone has a baby at sixteen and has to put everything else on hold to be there for the kid. Or not, in my dad's case.
She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. "I could just go over there and buy it. You couldn't stop me then."
I laughed. "Actually, you can't, 'cause it's the last bottle, which is why I picked it."
"C'mon, Stevie." She pouted and started bouncing on the balls of her feet like an impatient child.
I rolled my eyes and pushed the bottle toward her. "Fine."
I'd just repaint mine later. I'd certainly have the time.
"Did you actually need something?" I asked, curious why she'd come in. She never came to the pharmacy. If she needed anything we carried, she gave me a list and some money to bring it home after work.
"I'm having lunch with a friend across the street. I was just wondering if you wanted me to bring you something back."
"You meeting Cathy?"
She twisted a lock of hair around her finger, her eyes drifting along the wall behind me. "I do have more than one friend, Steven."
"Whatever you say." I grabbed a pen and Post-it to write out my order. If I didn't, she'd end up getting it wrong. She had a terrible memory. Honestly, there was a seventy/thirty chance she'd still leave something out.
She blew a kiss at me and waved as she sauntered to the door. She raised the nail polish and said, "Thank you for this, doll. Love you lots."
"Love you, too."
Once my nails dried, I got started on restocking the shelves. It was a laborious, tedious task, but it would pass the time.
As I filled the shelves, I daydreamed about far-off places better than here. I briefly wished I'd taken up the offer to share the cost of a hotel suite in San Diego with a group of my old high school classmates. I wouldn't go so far as to call them friends, just acquaintances I occasionally hung out with, since my real friends went off to college. They'd planned a two-week excursion that sounded heavenly. I'd love a respite from this dreary town.
But I was saving every penny I could, so I could finally ditch this place for good.
The chime that announced a new customer pulled me from musings. I expected it to be my mother, returning with my promised lunch.
I stood and stretched my legs to work out the soreness from being crouched so long to restock the bottom shelf. I probably should've sat on the floor to do it, but the thought of sitting on a floor where so many shoes had tread made my skin crawl. Who knows what those people had walked through.
Although if I sat on the floor, I probably wouldn't have developed these thick tree-trunk thighs from all the hours spent squatting over the last four and a half years working here. That would've been nice. But it was too late now. They were mine, and I had to deal with them.
Craning my neck, I peeked over the top of the aisle. All I could see was the short dark hair on top of their head.
Definitely not Mom. The shelves were almost too tall for me to see over, and I was six-feet tall. The newcomer had to be close to that for me to see the crown of his head over the top shelf.
Using my foot, I pushed the boxes of extra washing detergent against the shelf so no one would trip over it before I got back to the restocking. I headed toward the front to wait at the counter for the customer to checkout.
At the end of the aisle, I froze. The customer stood there—handsome and tall, with warm golden skin—examining the sale items. A bit on the skinny side, his fitted gray tank top showed off his toned physique. It also gave a full view of his sinewy arms, where he had a few tattoos. The interlocking Mars symbols on his right wrist immediately caught my eye.
While I had never been particularly secretive about my sexuality, I didn't think I could walk around with it branded on my skin for anyone to see. Though I certainly commended his fearlessness.
His hazel eyes looked up from the two-for-one Doritos at me. He flashed a confident, sexy grin that sent flutters through my gut.
Not wanting to seem like a creep, I mumbled, "Let me know if you need any help."
"Thanks," he said with the slightest hint of a Southern twang.
I forced my shaky legs to move forward, taking my place behind the checkout counter. I took out my phone and pretended to be preoccupied as I covertly watched him browsing.
When he approached me, I kept my eyes glued to my phone's home screen until he cleared his throat.
I pretended to be startled. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't even see you there."
He puckered his lips and nodded. "Mm-hmm."
"So, um, are you just passing through?" I asked, taking my time scanning the items.
He wasn't from here; I knew that much. A man that attractive roaming around town would have commanded my attention.
"I'm actually staying here for the summer."
"Why?" I blurted, with more than a little disgust.
He let out a small laugh. "I take it you don't like it here."
"Don't get me wrong; it's not a terrible place to live. It's just boring as hell."
"Anywhere can be exciting if you have the right company."
I scoffed. "Good luck finding someone interesting around here."
The guy leaned on the counter and raised a single brow. "Does that include you?"
A wave of heat crept across my face. "That's hard to answer."
He seemed taken aback. "Is it?"
"Well, if I say no, you might think I'm arrogant. But if I say yes, you might not keep talking to me."
"I don't know about that." His lips stretched into a wide grin. His gorgeous eyes looked me over. "You're still cute. So you've got that in your favor."
My lips parted before twisting into an embarrassed smile. I wasn't accustomed to having a guy flirt with me. There were only two age-appropriate guys in this town who would be interested in dating a guy, if they were not already dating each other. I had on occasion secretly wished they would break up, so I might have a chance. But I always felt bad about it. They were sickeningly perfect together.
That was a major factor in my desire to leave this town. I would very much like to have at least kissed a guy before turning twenty-one. I only had five months left.
"Hey," the guy said. "Um, I promise I'm not trying to be rude, like at all, but I have to be somewhere real soon. Is there any way you can hurry?"
"God! Yeah! I'm so sorry. I kinda spaced."
"It's fine. I just can't be late."
I scanned the rest of the items and bagged them up with haste.
"It was nice to meet you," the guy said as I handed him the receipt. His eyes lingered on my hand. "Cool nails."
"Th-Thanks," I said, suddenly breathless.
Okay, so I might keep the blue for a couple days.
At the door, he looked back at me for a brief once-over, offering another smile.
"H-Have a nice day," I stammered, recalling that I was meant to say that to customers.
It didn't occur to me until after he left that we hadn't exchanged names. I hoped to see him again. Next time, maybe I could carry on a conversation without being such an anxious freak.