one night stand episode 2

She smiled at me. It wasn’t a smile that politely but passingly acknowledged a random stranger at a random storefront; it was a smile that was somewhat suggestive. My first thought was that she had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen on a human being. She really did. I caught my breath when I looked into those brown eyes that bored holes into mine. It was unsettling how bold her stare was. My second thought was that she must be gay to look at me like that; not that I was judging. I did not want to encourage her and I also did not want to seem rude (for me, it’s a lot easier being brash when fending off unwanted attention from men; I always think they can take it. With women I try to be as considerate as possible) so I gave her a half smile – almost apologetic – and turned my face away as I passed her to get into the store. Sort of like: thank you; I appreciate the compliment; but, no. I turned my face away because I did not want to see what her follow-up would be: persistence or embarrassment. It was better not to know.

Inside the store, I just about caught the endings of a scuffle between Pete (behind the counter) and three rowdy teenage boys who undoubtedly had had too much to drink. Apparently, they meant to scuttle off with a bottle of Johnnie Walker they could not pay for, and Pete wasn’t having it. “You can’t take that with you unless you pay for it” Pete insisted with a deadpan expression that dared the boys to call his bluff. There famously was a Sig Sauer assault rifle beneath the counter. No one had ever seen it but Pete used to be in the army so it was not doubted for a second.

One of the boys turned his attention to me and his freckled face beneath a shock of orange hair lit up, “Hey, sweetheart” he slurred. His hand crept towards me in an incoherent attempt to brush the side of my face.

I did not flinch. “Touch me and lose a hand.” It was a rather icy warning, and I watched him shrink away.

He smirked. “Why so sensitive? I’m only paying you a compliment.” The orange-haired boy whistled between his teeth and motioned to his comrades, “Come on! We’re outta here. This place blows anyway.” He knocked over a crate of bottled water by the entrance, stuck out both hands in dramatic fashion and flipped Pete the bird before exiting the store in an outburst of drunken hilarity.

I watched Pete look sky-wards and then shake his head. He did not need any of this. His business was barely cutting it as it was. I set my crate of Budweiser’s in front of him and he rang it up. “Sorry about that” I said to him before leaving the store. I wondered if he knew I had been referring to the incident with the teenage boys; it only then occurred to me that he might have thought that I had, perhaps, let one rip and had been apologetic about that. The thought of it made me smile.