dreams down the toilet.
Now isn’t that a thought to warm your heart.
The bus pulls to a stop in front of the mall and we hurry to get off, Chrissy lighting up another smoke as soon as our feet hit the pavement. I glare at her. She smirks between drags and holds the pack out for me. “Want one?”
“No thanks, I’m all set with the cancer sticks.”
With a deep chuckle—no doubt brought on by her incessant need to smoke those things—Chrissy changes the subject, asking me about classes and homework. It’s a welcome break to think about something other than Momma, and we manage to casually chat as we make our way into the mall. The shops are bustling with activity and I immediately lose myself in people watching, while Chrissy fawns over outfits. I’ve never been much for clothes. I liked to keep it simple. Jeans, T-shirts, sneakers. The only times I actually dress up is when I have to work the window, and even then I keep it to a minimum. Dress slacks, sweaters, and loose fitting clothing. I never want to be mistaken for a girly girl—or to give Big Earl any more ideas. Lord knows he already has enough of them in his mind as it is.
Chrissy is blathering on like a fool about some skank-a-tron dress as I turn around and roll my eyes. She’s such a girl. The fact that she hasn’t even noticed I’m not paying attention says that she didn’t actually need me to come with her; which makes her gesture all the more sweet.
Instead of shopping, I direct my gaze out the window front of the store and my eyes immediately find him. My mouth drops open as I catch his smile. That perfect little smile, adorned with those damn dimples that I can’t stop thinking about.
Effin’ Emerson.
He puts his hand up to wave and I manage to close my mouth again.
My mind starts reeling as I look at him. He’s dressed to the nines: nice jeans, a dress shirt, the look completed by shiny patent leather shoes.
So far out of my league.
What do I do? Do I go talk to him? Should I just direct my attention back to Chrissy and hope he leaves? Chrissy.
Shit. Chrissy, my best friend, who just so happens to be a loud-mouthed hooker. I should run.
Definitely run.
Before I have a chance to act, Chrissy breathes down my neck. “Who’s that?” she asks, causing me to jump from being caught red-handed.
“Just a guy in one of my classes,” I retort quickly.
“Not just a guy, Presley. A cute guy.”
I click my tongue and turn away from his unrelenting gaze. “Whatever, can we just keep shopping?”
“Yeah, sure, but it looks like cute class guy is coming your way.”
My fickle heart flutters in my chest, and I curse under my breath. I don’t need Emerson muddying up my life right now. Not that I think he is . . . well, maybe I do. Running my fingers through my hair, I attempt to straighten myself up a bit. My efforts are in vain, because deep down I know it’s too late. I look frumpy, and I hate myself for not taking the time to primp. Shrugging off my moment of weakness, I attempt to fake nonchalance.
I don’t care .
“Hey, Presley,” he calls to me; walking through the door looking like he stepped straight out of GQ.
Okay, so I might care just a little. Pissed at myself, I take a deep breath before directing my attention in his direction. “Oh, hey, Emerson.” I don’t know why I feign surprise, because I know he knows I’ve already seen him.
In just a few steps he’s next to me, and I can smell his cologne. As if his pull wasn’t already magnetic enough, I find myself fighting the urge to move even closer to him.
Unfamiliar with this kind of situation, I briefly wonder if it would be inappropriate of me to sniff him deeply in the middle of the store?
Shut up, Presley!
“Doing a little bit of shopping?” he asks.
I know he’s making small talk, and it makes me uncomfortable knowing that Chrissy is right next to me. Unpredictable at the best of times, I never know what is going to come spilling out of her mouth
Now isn’t that a thought to warm your heart.
The bus pulls to a stop in front of the mall and we hurry to get off, Chrissy lighting up another smoke as soon as our feet hit the pavement. I glare at her. She smirks between drags and holds the pack out for me. “Want one?”
“No thanks, I’m all set with the cancer sticks.”
With a deep chuckle—no doubt brought on by her incessant need to smoke those things—Chrissy changes the subject, asking me about classes and homework. It’s a welcome break to think about something other than Momma, and we manage to casually chat as we make our way into the mall. The shops are bustling with activity and I immediately lose myself in people watching, while Chrissy fawns over outfits. I’ve never been much for clothes. I liked to keep it simple. Jeans, T-shirts, sneakers. The only times I actually dress up is when I have to work the window, and even then I keep it to a minimum. Dress slacks, sweaters, and loose fitting clothing. I never want to be mistaken for a girly girl—or to give Big Earl any more ideas. Lord knows he already has enough of them in his mind as it is.
Chrissy is blathering on like a fool about some skank-a-tron dress as I turn around and roll my eyes. She’s such a girl. The fact that she hasn’t even noticed I’m not paying attention says that she didn’t actually need me to come with her; which makes her gesture all the more sweet.
Instead of shopping, I direct my gaze out the window front of the store and my eyes immediately find him. My mouth drops open as I catch his smile. That perfect little smile, adorned with those damn dimples that I can’t stop thinking about.
Effin’ Emerson.
He puts his hand up to wave and I manage to close my mouth again.
My mind starts reeling as I look at him. He’s dressed to the nines: nice jeans, a dress shirt, the look completed by shiny patent leather shoes.
So far out of my league.
What do I do? Do I go talk to him? Should I just direct my attention back to Chrissy and hope he leaves? Chrissy.
Shit. Chrissy, my best friend, who just so happens to be a loud-mouthed hooker. I should run.
Definitely run.
Before I have a chance to act, Chrissy breathes down my neck. “Who’s that?” she asks, causing me to jump from being caught red-handed.
“Just a guy in one of my classes,” I retort quickly.
“Not just a guy, Presley. A cute guy.”
I click my tongue and turn away from his unrelenting gaze. “Whatever, can we just keep shopping?”
“Yeah, sure, but it looks like cute class guy is coming your way.”
My fickle heart flutters in my chest, and I curse under my breath. I don’t need Emerson muddying up my life right now. Not that I think he is . . . well, maybe I do. Running my fingers through my hair, I attempt to straighten myself up a bit. My efforts are in vain, because deep down I know it’s too late. I look frumpy, and I hate myself for not taking the time to primp. Shrugging off my moment of weakness, I attempt to fake nonchalance.
I don’t care .
“Hey, Presley,” he calls to me; walking through the door looking like he stepped straight out of GQ.
Okay, so I might care just a little. Pissed at myself, I take a deep breath before directing my attention in his direction. “Oh, hey, Emerson.” I don’t know why I feign surprise, because I know he knows I’ve already seen him.
In just a few steps he’s next to me, and I can smell his cologne. As if his pull wasn’t already magnetic enough, I find myself fighting the urge to move even closer to him.
Unfamiliar with this kind of situation, I briefly wonder if it would be inappropriate of me to sniff him deeply in the middle of the store?
Shut up, Presley!
“Doing a little bit of shopping?” he asks.
I know he’s making small talk, and it makes me uncomfortable knowing that Chrissy is right next to me. Unpredictable at the best of times, I never know what is going to come spilling out of her mouth
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