Page 4 of Check Me Out

As much as I might like to think I took pleasure in denying myself now for the chance of a stable future…I knew that if I took the safe route, I’d never stop wondering what the heck was in that can. Feeling adventurous—maybe even a bit naughty—I tucked the can into the crook of my arm and headed for checkout.

There was just one register open, with a bored teenage cashier staring at her phone, and a chunky male bagger gazing hopefully in her direction. I instinctively veered toward the self-check to avoid the gravitational pull of their one-sided relationship. Attraction is like the scrupulously fair chore board hanging on my kitchen wall. It should be possible to find someone out there who’s into you just as much as you’re into them. There are eight billion people on the planet, after all. Statistically, there’s bound to be plenty of someones who’d make a great match.

Unfortunately, like the chore board, attraction is only fair in theory—and the type of guys I always attracted bored me to tears. As for me, I found it easier to cram in a few more credits and spend all my time studying than to endure yet another tedious Friday night on yet another lackluster date.

I was so focused on not-looking at the two cashiers that I didn’t notice the one hurtling toward the self-check until we practically collided.

He was all angles, from his jawline to his jutting hipbone, so sharp it was a wonder I didn’t impale myself on him as he skidded to a stop….

Though the more I examined that notion, the more appealing it was.

But that was ridiculous. Even in his polyester Val-U-Mart vest, this guy was way out of my league. A constellation of small silver ear studs winked from both ears and tattoos peeked from his collar. And if that wasn’t enough to convince me I didn’t stand a chance, the blue hair sure did.

He locked eyes with me, barring my way to the self-check. He held eye contact just a beat too long, then said, “Welcome to Val-U-Mart. Where ‘U’ come first.”

And then he smiled.

An ironic smile? Maybe not, since it went all the way to his eyes, which were a blue just a few shades lighter than his hair. His teeth were straight, all but one: an eyetooth was at a cocky angle to the rest. Just like him.

Everything there was to take in, and I go and fall for histooth?

I was such a goner.

When I came up with absolutely no reply, he added, “Or if we both time it right, maybe we’ll finish together. Haha, just kidding. That is, unless you wanted to give it a shot.”

What was he…?

U come first.

Oh.

Ohhh.

Awash in a sudden and all-encompassing shyness, I waved the can vaguely at the self-check and mumbled, “No, that’s okay, I was gonna—”

“Forget about the robot cashiers. I’m already checking you out. Might as well finish the job on register three.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I insist.” He plucked the can neatly from my grasp. I was so bowled over by the fact that he was lavishing his attention on me that I couldn’t possibly resist. Then, he glanced down at the can and then did a double-take. “Seriously? Of everything in the entire freaking store, you chosethis?”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I marked it down myself not ten minutes ago. What is it, anyhow?”

“I’m not exactly sure.”

“A risk-taker.” He flashed another smile—thattooth. “I like it.” He turned on his heel and strode over to the checkout, rangy and broad-shouldered beneath his ill-fitting Val-U-Mart vest. He wasn’t handsome, not in the traditional sense. Too sharp, too extreme. But I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

As he flipped on the light and glided into place behind the register, I narrowly avoided walking into the magazine rack. The upside-down name tag on his vest readAngus. “Is that really your name?” I asked, because he seemed like the sort of guy who’d just wear a random name tag for kicks.

“A grade-A prime moniker if ever there was one.” An awkward pause, followed by, “And here’s where you tell me yours.”

“Newton.”

The usual follow-up question was whether I’d been named after a fig bar. But instead, he said, “Newton, huh? As in, apple-falls-from-the-tree-and-hits-you-on-the-head, probably-never-happened, but-makes-a-good-gravity-story?”

I blinked. “Yeah.”

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