Page 2 of Shift Happens
His smile dimmed slightly. “I have… some of those things?”
What have I gotten myself into?
“Well, bring whatever you have tomorrow morning at 9 AM,” I said, already mentally calculating how much extra accounting this was going to create. “And maybe wear shoes you can actually tie properly.”
He looked down at his disaster of footwear. “These are difficult. Too many strings. In the wild—I mean, at home—we don’t…” He trailed off, then looked back up with determination. “I’ll be better with shoes tomorrow.”
As he turned to leave, he knocked into a stack of comics, sending them cascading to the floor. He dropped to his hands and knees so quickly it was almost inhuman, scrambling to collect them.
I crouched down to help, and for a brief moment, our hands touched over a copy of “Silver Surfer.” He froze, and so did I.There was something unusual about the way he looked at me then—head slightly tilted, nostrils flaring subtly, eyes focused with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
Was that… did he just growl? No, that’s ridiculous.
“Sorry,” he murmured, pulling back. “I’ll be more careful.”
As he scurried out the door—knocking the Wolverine standee over again—I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d just invited chaos into my meticulously ordered life.
What I didn’t realize was just how adorable chaos could be, or how completely it would transform everything I thought I knew about myself.
Chapter 1
“And this is how we log new inventory,” I explained, demonstrating the point-of-sale system for what felt like the fifteenth time that morning. “You scan the barcode, confirm the title matches, then enter the quantity received.”
Milo nodded enthusiastically, his entire body practically vibrating with attention. “Scan. Match. Count. Got it.”
When I handed him the scanner, he held it upside down and pressed his eye directly against the laser window.
“Jesus!” I yanked it away. “Don’t do that! You’ll damage your eye!”
“Oh.” He blinked rapidly. “Is that not how humans see the tiny lines?”
Humans? What a weird way to phrase that.
“No, the scanner reads the barcode, not your eyeball.” I repositioned it in his hand. “Like this. Point and click.”
He tried again, this time aiming it correctly at the comic book but pressing the button with such force that I feared for the scanner’s structural integrity.
“Gentler,” I suggested. “It’s not going to run away.”
Five days into Milo’s employment, and I was beginning to question my sanity. He approached every task with boundless enthusiasm and catastrophic execution. The coffee machine was now permanently stained after he’d somehow reversed the water flow. Three customers had received incorrect change. And the less said about his attempt to use the paper cutter, the better.
Yet there was something endearing about his determination. Every mistake was met not with frustration but with renewed vigor to get it right the next time. Plus, true to his word, he could lift inventory boxes that I struggled with, carrying them like they contained nothing heavier than air.
“Finn?” Milo’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Why does your heart beat faster sometimes when you look at me?”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “Excuse me?”
“Your heart,” he repeated, pointing directly at my chest. “It speeds up. And your smell changes. Is that normal for humans when they’re teaching?”
My smell? What the hell?
“I think you’re imagining things,” I said, feeling inexplicably defensive. “And it’s kind of weird to comment on someone’s… bodily functions.”
His face fell immediately, cheeks flushing. “Sorry. That’s inappropriate human interaction, isn’t it? I’m still learning boundaries.”
He looked so genuinely mortified that I felt a twinge of guilt. “It’s fine. Just… maybe focus on the inventory rather than my cardiovascular system.”
“Right.” He nodded solemnly. “Comics, not coronaries.”
