Page 10 of I Blame the Rival

Making myself comfortable on a desk in the corner, I watch the couples intermingle and let my mind wander. As always, I end up thinking about Skylar and the last message she left me.

Pretty is not normally what people say when they find out my name but yes, I do like to draw. I find sketching helps relieve some of the pressure inside me.

By pressure, do you mean anger?

I didn’t want to assume, so I thought it would be better to ask the question outright. Skylar had hinted at being familiar with anger in one of our earlier correspondences, so it felt like a safe guess on my part.

I wonder what my friend looks like. Whether she’s tall or short, an extravert or an introvert. Maybe she likes reading romance novels like me.

Although she probably doesn’t cross out the sex scenes like I do.

Before my train of thought can get any darker, I hop off the desk and wander over to start lighting the candles. I light the first cupcake and pause, a hopeful idea glowing in front of me.

Sneaking a glance over my shoulder, I turn back to the burning candle and make a wish. Blowing it out as fast as I can, I take out the used candle and replace it with a new one before anybody can notice.

Skylar

“Are you an albino or something?”

The man squints at me, his receding hairline blocking my vision as he leans in closer, “Pretty sure white hair and weird eyes make you an albino.”

I hold back a sigh and look at my watch. Three more hours until closing.

“I’m not an albino. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“The hell is wrong with your eyes then?”

“Heterochromia.”

“Hetero what?”

I don’t bother smothering my sigh this time, “It means I have two different coloured eyes. Now, if that’s everything…”

“That’s not normal.” The man squints at me again, as if he can’t comprehend why one iris doesn’t match the other.

I stare at him, wondering why strangers feel the need to voice unwanted opinions. My pale hair and mismatched eyes are unusual, but when you compare them to the rest of my life, suddenly they seem pretty mundane.

The man shakes his head, “You gotta get that checked out. Can’t be healthy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you looking to purchase that?”

Pointing to the piece of shiplap in his hands, I manage to distract him long enough to ring up his order and send him on his way. Pulling up the inventory list, I cross out the latest supply and abandon the till to head towards the warehouse.

Brock’s Bolts & Beams is the only hardware store in Silverwood and is run by Brock Jr., the son of the original owner. The store hasn’t changed much over the years, the long aisles of wooden panels and hardware supplies are covered with a thicklayer of sawdust that has probably been here since the store first opened.

Brock’s B&B prides itself on being the town’s one-stop-shop for all things construction, so every few feet there’s a bin of miscellaneous power tools that you may or may not need to complete your home renovation.

A loud laugh hits my ears when I pull open the door to the back office, Mila’s signature cackle bouncing off the bare walls of the tiny room. I slow to a stop when I see who triggered the reaction.

“Hey, Sky.” Vector grins at me while Mila bends over, trying to catch her breath. Her dark hair creates a curtain over her face, the outline of her shoulders shaking with laughter.

I don’t acknowledge him before turning to my co-worker, “We need to place another order for shiplap. Make a note to call Vipco tomorrow morning.”

“Sure thing.” Still wheezing, Mila pushes herself back up to standing and gives Vector a beaming smile, “Fuck, you’re a riot. You should come around here more often.”

He glances at me and smirks, “Maybe.”

My shoulders tense as he walks towards me, the height difference giving me the choice to either stare at his chest or tilt my head back to make eye contact.

---