Page 110 of Overcast

“Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“It’s alright, I promise. You didn’t break anything.” His eyes flick to the pants in my hand. “Need help with anything?”

“Oh...” He looks at me expectedly, waiting for me to finish.

It’s then that I realize he looks like a knock off of James Franco. Longer hair that is styled but looks indifferently put together, his smile is warm and friendly.

“I was just going to go grab another size.”

He reaches for my items and gently pulls them from me. “I’ll do it for you.”

“Oh, no, you don’t—” He shrugs.

“I’m bored, it’s slow.”

I rub my palms together. “Okay...if you insist.”

“I do.” He gives me another college-boy smirk. “I’ll be right back.”

He makes his way towards the shelves of jeans that I was just at and moves out of the way for a mother and her small child to pass. Then he’s quickly back with two more pairs and a smile.

“Brought you two sizes, just in case.”

I take them from him. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll stand by in case you need something else.”

I ease my way back inside the dressing room. “Oh, seriously, it’s not necessary. I’m completely fine.”

“Again,” he voices. “Slow. Plus, it keeps me away from stocking for the next ten minutes, so you’re actually doing me a favor.”

I nod. “Right.”

He takes a step in my direction. “Did you need me to take those shirts for you too? I can go pick—”

“Take another fucking step in that room, and you’re going to wish you did go stock those shelves.” The man’s body and mine freeze at the exact same time, but he quickly recovers when he turns around to find the source of the threat.

Me, I already know whose it is. Only dealt with it for what feels like a decade now.

“I’m sorry?” the Walmart dude asks. “I was just help—”

“You weren’t helping shit,” Emric leers. “You were just trying to get in her dressing room and touching what’s—”

“Who are you?” the guy challenges, looming in his direction.

Oh, no, no, no.

I drop the jeans and stand at the James Franco clone’s side. When I expect to be glared at, Emric saves that for the man to my left.

While Emric wanted me to stay low key and behave, he’s doing the exact opposite. He’s acting like a Karen in the middle of the women’s department with a piercing scowl at a Walmart employee who was just trying to be considerate.

“I’m who she’s with,” Emric claims, nostrils flared. “And you’re going to get the fuck out of here.”

“Sir, you’re not going to speak to—” Emric is in his face, fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are turning white.

“The fuck did you say to me?”

“Emric,” I warn, trying to seize his attention.

---