Short Stories

the boy at 7-eleven

the boy at 7-eleven

I rounded the corner of the street where 7-Eleven was at, peeking through the glass panels furtively.

He was standing at the cashier. There were no customers, and he was drumming his fingers on the counter, glancing around with a bored expression on his face. His eyes suddenly flittered up to mine before I could hide myself.

My face was red with embarrassment as I darted away and leaned against the wall. Of course, like the last two times, I had no business at 7-Eleven. I'd already bought more than a week's supply of junk food and soda, and more horrifically, it was when I first met him.

He'd just started work as a cashier boy, and I was balancing an armful of junk food, soda, and a stack of Vogue magazines. Yes, Vogue, the one with all the beautiful models and their perfect bodies on the cover page, humiliating my choice of food. When I basically dumped the stuff all over the counter, he gave me an amused look but didn't say a word. Of course, his electrifying blue eyes and sandy blond hair were enough to leave me in a trance.

The next two times I hung around the store like a thief just to catch glimpses of him. I would never spend more than ten minutes in the store because it was too suspicious. Basically, I was just a chicken who didn't dare to talk to him and preferred to admire him from afar.

I combed my short brown hair with my fingers, and smoothed my jeans. I put on my best totally-nothing-happened face and whirled around, only to crash into a rock hard chest.

His arms were crossed as he looked down at me, his eyes twinkling with amusement. His blond hair was tousled, and it made me want to run my fingers through it oh so bad.

My heart stopped. "A-aren't — aren't you supposed to be manning the cashier?" I squeaked stupidly, pressing my fingers on my nose bridge where I'd collided with him.

"Yeah I was," his voice was deep and husky, just like the Never Gonna Give You Up singer. Ugh, now I had the image of him dancing awkwardly in my mind. "But something interesting has been catching my attention for the past week." I could hear the smile in his voice.

I sucked in a breath. This was my chance. "Well, me too. I'm Bella." I flashed him a lopsided grin and put out a shaky hand.

He laughed, waving my hand away. "Why so formal? I'm Nathan." He leaned in close and whispered into my ear, "And I think you're cute."

**

One week. Two, three, four weeks since I've known Nathan. I stumbled through the doors of 7-Eleven when Nathan let me in, panting heavily, and staggered over to the cashier.

"Let me guess, an escaped lion chased you down the street?" Nathan teased as I collapsed on the counter.

Nathan was funny like that. He was witty and had a great sense of humour. "No, but my dad did," I said between breaths, fanning myself. The heat was sweltering, I was sweating profusely and I was pretty sure I'd stinked up the whole place.

"I'll buy you a Slurpee, and you talk," he winked. Nathan always got me free drinks, free because he paid for them, but it made me feel bad all the time.

"You don't have to keep paying for me, you know," I followed him to the machine. Nathan grabbed a cup and filled it up with blue raspberry, my favourite flavour.

"Sweet girls deserve sweet drinks," he grinned, handing me the full cup of Slurpee. I downed half the cup in a few seconds, letting a moan escape my lips. I loved Slurpees. Especially the blue raspberry. It was my daily dose of sugar.

"You eat like a pig," he shook his head, smiling. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"I already know that. And that was lame, you know," we headed back to the counter, where I propped my elbows against the counter and watched Nathan pull out the cash register. It was his lunch break now, so there were no customers and we were free to hang out.