Chapter One: Grocery Run

“Mom, can I please spend one Saturday not running errands for you?” I gripped loudly through the hallway towards my parents’ bedroom. “Is that too much to ask?” 

“Yes, Dakota, you do,” my mother called back. “there’s no one else you can drive in this household that has time on their hands.” I heaved a sigh, stepping forward and going down the hall to her room. Without even looking up at me from her computer, she stuck an arm out with a list and credit card attached at the end. Rolling my eyes, I took it and turned on my heels to start the journey of sheer boredom. “Be back before dinner young man!” I rolled my eyes before heading into the bathroom to fix myself. I fixed my dark, wavy hair and fixed my clothes to fit my scrawny figure in the mirror. I looked down at the grocery list as I headed out, scanning through the items. Eggs, milk, broccoli … Nothing out of the ordinary, that was, younger until my sister stopped me on the way out. 

“What, Chani?” I mumbled, grabbing my keys. She looked up at me with beady eyes, brimming with attitude. Her teenage patience hanging by a thread like mine. 

“Mom forgot one thing on that list for me, so if you could please, add tampons to that list, thanks!” she cheered, giving me a cynical smile before stepping away. 

“No! No, no, no! I’m not putting myself through that-”

“Oh, shut it! You just don’t wanna look like a pussy in front of that cute cashier do you?” she retorted. I breathed in to respond, but I stopped my words. My cheeks turned a deep shade of red as I murmured a ‘no’ in her direction, but I was barely audible. Chani gave me a tight smirk and replied. “Well, give up, he’s straight, and he’s mine.” I rolled my eyes and scoffed her off. But there was one thing, she was right. Especially in this case. 

She’s right though. Why do all the cute ones have to be straight? I thought. Yep, I’m a boy and he’s a boy and I’m sure he does not swing my away either.

At this point I was rather happy to be leaving the horrible confines of my house, though I felt nervous just thinking about walking into the Target where my mother usually shops. Worst part about it is there’s no way around it. It’s Target or nothing. Yes, my family is one of those shoppers that religiously shop at only one store. Well, maybe … I guess I could try to go to Wal-Mart today? Save us a few bucks? Actually, I’d much rather take my chances with tampons and the cute stock boy that works there than the characters at Wal-Mart. 

I went out to my small little Ford Focus parked on the street, getting in, inserting the keys and turning them to the first notch. Just then, I saw a small light flashing on the dash board next to the gasoline meter. Completely empty. Not enough to even get me halfway there.  

I huffed in frustration and cursing everything around me silently. I got out and ran in to look for the other keys. The only other car, however, was my mom’s Honda Odyssey. That’s right, the minivan. When I made that discovery, I could only roll my eyes and scoff, thinking of the situation. A seventeen-year-old boy driving a minivan to Target to pick up groceries and tampons. Hell, I might as well get some Starbucks while I’m at it. Hey, there’s one in Target anyway …. 

Wow, this a new low for me.

So, with laziness in my step while I trudged to the car, I was soon on my way in the mom-mobile to Target. I wasn’t in the mood for music, so the radio remained silent with the res of the car, leaving me with my thoughts for the fifteen-minute drive there. They mostly drifted towards my sister’s words about the boy that works there. 

She’s right. For the most part, at least. He probably is as straight as an arrow and wouldn’t even lift a finger for me. I’ve seen him there for the past few trips to Target, though I’d never bothered to get in his line. Okay, okay, I was too afraid to have to talk to him, even though it would be only two words. “Did you find everything okay?” he would ask. I would reply with a yes, then later he would say, “Have a nice day!” in a sweet baritone voice and I would simply thank him and be on my merry day. 

However, knowing myself and how I get around extremely attractive boys like him, that’s why I have avoided interacting with him, because I will not be pretty. 

So, as I pulled up to the parking lot and found a parking space, I decided to simply avoid his line and I would be perfectly fine. I got out a made my way in, meeting the smell of Starbucks Coffee upon entry. It was tantalizing, but I figured I have enough competing stereotypes to my name, so I’ll pass on it for today. 

My eyes, scanned over the store from the entrance. I could see all five or so registers filled with people buying their goods and none of the cashiers caught my attention. What a relief. 

I then began my trek throughout the large store, gathering everything on the list, and (for a time) forgetting about Mr. Dreamy-Cashier. Hm, Mr. Dreamy. Catchy …. Maybe I’ll call him that for now. I smiled inwardly to myself for that. 

Some time later, maybe a full hour or so, I pushed the cart full of food towards the registers with the list (and everything on it checked off) in my hand. I turned the corner out of an aisle and the resisters came into view. There were virtually no lines between the two lanes that were open. The cashiers were servicing the only people in both so I just pushed my cart up to the one nearest to me and began my wait. The man that was in front of me had his cart full of goods like me, so I figured that it would take a while. 

My mind began to wander within my thoughts. Much of those mused on the possibilities of what I wanted to do for the rest of the day.

Hmm, maybe I should practice … nah. Too boring. I still have some homework to do, but I’d rather not. Or, maybe I could call Ashley and see if she wants to do someone- oh, she’s out of town. Dang. 

A brush of cool air and a subtle scent of Hollister cologne brushed past me. I was shaken from my thoughts as I looked over to see what had past me. My eyes met with a slim figure in a red shirt headed towards the register next to mine. In a split second, I recognized that swish-y, flip-y, sandy hair atop the figure’s head. It was none other than Mr. Dreamy himself. 

I stood there, immobilized, in the gentle cloud of scent from his cologne. It wasn’t too much, it wasn’t too little, it was just the right amount. I couldn’t help but blush red thinking about how close he was to me, how gentle his graze against me was. Call me desperate but it’s been well over a year since I’ve dated anyone, and a boy like him, whose way out of my league and whose sexuality is much different from my own, just makes me all hot and bothered by just standing there. 

I watched as he got his station ready. His movements were so graceful. From the way he put plastic bags on the loading station, to the way he punched things in on the register. I watched as he finally flipped a switch, turning a light on in the tall lane number box suspended above him. He turned back towards the waiting people around and called out in an agile baritone voice. “I can help who’s next!” 

My eyes quickly darted away from his gaze. I was already in an awkward place with all the stuff I was buying and I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of him. God know my family is regulars here, and I don’t want to be known as the awkward kid who might stare at the hunky employee here. 

My gaze lifted to look at the man in front of me who was done buying all of his stuff by now, but was arguing with the cashier for something with coupons I guess. Then, the lane to my right was filled with many people who supposedly didn’t hear Mr. Dreamy’s offer to help who is next. Great, I’m the awkward one out, since I’m not being helped nor am I deaf. 

I looked over with burning cheeks to his lane. Two golden eyes met my gaze and a silent gasp escaped my lips a second later. He’s looking directly at me with those two piercing golden eyes. Now I know why gold is so valuable. I thought to myself. Just then, he smiled at me and – before I melted into a puddle – motioned me over to his register. 

Okay, Dakota, you got this. Just play it … normal. 

“Hello.” his baritone rung out. 

“H-H-Hi.” I sputtered. So much for that. 

I cursed myself inwardly as my whole façade turned a beat red and I completely missed his soft laughter. I turned my attention to getting my goods onto the conveyer belt, focusing only on my normalcy. Why am I so weird? I thought as I placed the broccoli and box of thyme on the counter. Why am I so weak too?

I was halfway through the cart when my eye caught something. The tampons. “Shit …,” I whispered to myself having remembered my honor to my sister’s request. I couldn’t do anything about either without looking suspicious. I grabbed them and placed them on the belt behind two large cartons of milk. 

“Forget something?” he asked, having heard my curse. I straightened up and shook my red head. He shot me a smirk and a slight nod before continuing his job. I let out a humid sigh of relief when his golden gaze left mine, but I was brought back to a dreadful sensation remembering the tampons on the belt. 

They’re just tampons that you’re buying for your sister. Why should he care what you’re buying? Why do you care that he cares? Oh, right, because he’s gorgeous. 

I placed the last of the items on the counter and turned my eyes to him. Oh, no … I’m staring … oh well! 

I watch with affection and admiration as he scanned the items and slipped them into the plastic bags. A rather simple task, really, but still, my desires made it look like he was performing a miracle or moving a whole mountain. His golden eyes scanned over the items as he carefully place it into the bad. His strong, clear arms moving the goods with ease while his pink lips formed into a careful purse alert to what he was doing. 

Suddenly, his look faltered as he grabbed the next item. My eyes darted down to see the box of tampons that he was holding and I gasped as the inevitable moment had come. I looked back up at him, whimpering softly as his golden eyes met mine with confusion. “F-For my s-s-sister.” I let out, only in a whisper, my blush burning more intensely. He swallowed hard and nodded, placing them carefully in the bag. 

It was not soon after that Mr. Dreamy had finished scanning and bagging all the items. Except himself, that is. Oops, did I say that?

“Cash or credit?” he asked. I mustered up a smile and handed him my mother’s credit card, which had my name associated with the account as well. He scanned it through the slot and once again I saw his eyes widen as he said. “Please sign here, Mrs. Evelyn …?” 

OH GREAT.

“No, no, I’m not– that’s my– I promise I–” I sputtered loudly, failing desperately to make out my words. My cheeks were burning like the surface of the sun and a chill infused by sheer embarrassment, went up my spine, making me tremble in the process. Tears began to well in my eyes, but I forced them back with all my strength, but a soft voice helped them subside as well. 

“Sh, sh,” the slim boy coaxed, “it’s fine. Don’t worry,” he continued in a solacing tone, with a small smile. “I found you in the system. I’m guess you’re, Dakota?” 

I nodded sheepishly. 

“Great. Here’s your card.,” he cooed softly, holding out my card and receipt. I took it, quickly wiping away at my damp cheeks, though the burning blush remained. I signed on the small screen in front of me and I hastily gathered all of my groceries and placed them in the cart. 

“Have a nice ….” he called out, but it was too late. I had already hastily walked away from the register. 

The walk back to the van was one of pure, utter shame. I felt like I was on death row and making the walk to the electric chair. Am I over exaggerating? Absolutely. Do I care? Not really. I mean, he was gorgeous and I made of totally idiot of myself in front of him. I guess he just does that to me. And the worst part is, it’s nothing I haven’t encountered before. I’ve dealt with the card problem before, in stride, simply telling them the other name on the account. But today, was certainly not my day. I approached the van nearly in tears again. My head was cursing myself over and over again for my awkwardness. Then, I remembered that I even forgot to see what his name was! He had a perfectly good nametag and I spent a good few minutes watching him scan, but I somehow managed to learn his name?! 

I popped the back open while forcing back tears with all I had and, thankfully, it paid off. 

I loaded the last of the bags and shut the door, head still hanging low with my dark locks over my eyes. I turned to head to the driver’s side when a baritone voice rang out making me stop. “Hey!” it yelled. My eyes lifted and I looked to see the red-shirt-clad Mr. Dreamy himself running towards me. I gasped, unable to suppress a smile seeing him barreling towards me in his employee attire. I was much to focused on his dashing smile to note anything else beyond that. 

His breath was heavy and he was panting as he held out the plastic bag in his hand. “You … forgot this.” I took it from his hand, memorizing the details of his warmth as our fingers brushed together. 

“Thank you.” I replied, happy to say something without stuttering. 

“Of course,” he cooed. “have a nice day!” 

“You too!” I said. I watched as he turned and left, but not after he shot me a playful smirk. When his gaze was not on me, however, I let myself blush now. I allowed myself to internally squeal with glee. How could I not? We talked, even if momentarily, and I was cool about it! And he sent me that dazzling white smirk which made me weak at the knees … what more can I say?

I was much too elated (and lazy) to reopen the trunk so I took the bag with me to the front seat, setting it down on the passenger side once I got in. Upon doing so, I felt my wrist brush up against a piece of paper. I looked down at the bag and confirmed that I wasn’t imagining it, but that it really was there. I already have my receipt …. 

I pulled out the paper, which was only a small piece with one side blank, and turned it until I saw the writing on the back.

What I read made me sink down into my seat with a deep red blush that beat any other I had today. The paper, in red ink with beautiful handwriting, read;

Hmu sometime! (614)730-5588 : )

- Alex. 

Alex. That’s his name … Alex from Target.