Isolation (Book #1 of the Taylor Series)

Two

"Nice of you to show up." Mrs. Peterson mutters just as the doorbell rings, signaling someone has entered the store. I look down at the faux leather watch on my wrist and smile.

3:56.

Mrs. Peterson likes us to be at least ten minutes early to our shift, especially when it's during rush hour. My co-worker, Lacey, learned that the hard way. The first shift she had here, she came in right on time, and Mrs. Peterson gave her a mouthful on the importance of being punctual. Long story short, she ended up crying in the bathroom for twenty minutes before spending the rest of her shift behind me and asking me if everything she was doing was correct.

"Sorry I'm late." I apologize, but she waves me off and continues putting books on their designated shelves.

Another thing about Mrs. Peterson-- she hates excuses. She believes that they're a waste of time; orchestrated parts of conversation to make careless people not seem as careless as they are.

Graham raises an eyebrow at me, and I shrug. I walk behind the main cash register and wait for customers to finish their browsing. Lacey walks through a row of shelves, pulling a red wagon full of new arrivals that Mrs. Peterson has ordered, with a look of desperation and exhaustion on her face. She groans as she struggles to pull it any further and wipes beads of sweat from her forehead.

"Need some help with that?" I ask, and she huffs as she drops the handle on the ground. The sound of impact is muffled by the orange carpet. She brushes a strand of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear as she shakes her head.

"I don't want Peterson to yell at you for not doing your part, besides this is where a majority of them go anyway." She explains, and I nod. She side-glances at Graham and gives a flirty wink before getting on her knees.

I snicker under my breath and glance at Graham who has already crossed his arms. He's looking at the ground and sliding his foot along the bright orange carpet. Lacey's always been good at making people feel uncomfortable. From the very moment that I met her, I could tell that she was the flirty type. Even in a situation when the other party is uninterested or not reciprocating those feelings.

Not saying that she's that 'Slut Archetype' that exist in those stupid Chick-Flick movies that make virgin girls like me feel better. Sure, she's flirty... But she's also only fifteen, a Freshman, and hardly mature enough to be having sex. She's told me hundreds of times during my fifteen minute lunch breaks that she hasn't even kissed anyone yet.

I'm not sure why she felt the need to tell me that... As if we're close enough to open up to each other like that. Especially when I'd much rather be drinking a coffee and not talking.

Either way, Graham has never shown any interest in Lacey. I don't even think they've had a real conversation other than the whole polite greeting thing. That being said, there's never been an opportunity for Graham to tell her that the reason he isn't interested and is unresponsive to her acts is because he has a girlfriend... A girlfriend that he's been with since the first semester of Sophomore year. Wow. I hadn't realized that it's been almost a year. 

"Were you planning on telling her about Stella?" I ask as I busy my hands by playing with the recently restocked membership paperwork.

"Depends, is she going to flirt with me every time I decide to hang out here?" He whispers, just loud enough for me to hear. He turns towards me with an expecting glance, and I tap my chin as if I actually have to think about it.

"I assume so... At least until she finds someone hotter." I conclude dramatically, and he exhales heavily. He looks annoyed for a few moments before he nods his head and smiles.