Page 3 of A Minute More

I didn’t know people under thirty dressed like this, but here we are. I learn something new every day.

To be honest, the way he dresses and carries himself makes inferiority bite at me. My worn green t-shirt and ripped jeans don’t seem to be all that classy at the moment. Should probably put more effort into my appearance. Should maybe style my hair or something.

“You off soon?” I ask Izzy who is sweeping up the floor. Her bright bubblegum-pink hair shines under the fluorescent lighting and her nose ring glints as well. She just fucking sparkles.

Too bad she’s not into guys because I think I have a small crush on her.

She smiles broadly at me, her painted red lips tilted up.

“Yep. Got somewhere to be later. You?”

“Nah, I close with Simon.”

Her blue eyes swivel to the guy behind the counter who is meticulously wiping it down before her gaze meets mine.

“Ah, well, you two have fun.” She waggles her eyebrows at me, and I can’t help but laugh at the insinuation.

Yeah, no. That would never happen. Mainly because I’m not into guys and also because Simon is no fun.

He’s quiet and reserved, and I can’t ever imagine that dude having sex. It’s probably silent and soft andboring. The thought of him naked and rutting up against someone sets my skin on fire, and I push the thought away, not liking how it makes me feel.

Yeah, I’m not thinking about dudes naked. That’s not something I do.

The rest of our shift, any words lobbed his way are tossed aside, discarded like the garbage I carry out right before closing. It makes me fucking insecure, the way he just ignores me. I usually can get anyone to open up to me, to at least make idle chatter, but not him. He’s as silent as silent can be.

Makes me squirm.

“You have any plans tonight?” I ask him, trying once more to get him to open up. I don’t know why I torture myself like this. Seems I like the pain of rejection.

Simon just stares at me, blinking a few times, and then swivels his eyes away. Well, I guess that’s a no then.

“Right, cool,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets before pulling them out again. Don’t know why I did that when there’s nothing in there that I need. Seems to be a nervous habit this guy brings out in me.

“Okay, well I guess we should lock up,” I say, and he just moves past me, brushing against my arm as he does it.

Something shifts inside of me and I feel a flutter in my stomach, like I’ve just been swept down the incline of a rollercoaster.

I’m probably hungry.

Yeah, that’s it. Haven’t eaten much today besides a few sandwiches. Maybe I have low blood sugar.

Simon pulls out the keys to the shop once we’re both outside and locks up behind him. I follow his silent form to the parking lot where our cars are parked, my old rusty Bronco and his fancy Mercedes sitting across the way.

There have been many times Jude and I have wondered why someone with a car like that works at a sandwich shop for minimum wage. Neither of us has a good answer for it, although we have speculated—rich parents, old money, a drug lord.

That one made us laugh until our cheeks hurt.

Envisioning Simon with pockets full of cocaine was just fucking ridiculous.

“Alright, well, have a good night. I have an early workout tomorrow…” I let my words trail off as Simon glances up at me before slipping into his pristine silver car.

I turn my back, telling myself to chill the fuck out, when I hear a click.

And then I hear it again. Ah, the faint click of a dead battery.

Turning back around, I see Simon in the driver’s seat hunched forward slightly, his brows meeting in concentration. He still doesn’t make eye contact with me, and part of me wonders if he just wants me to leave him here. But I can’t do that. Not when I know he could be stranded. My mom taught me better than that.

Quickly, I move toward his car and my knuckles tap on the window.

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