Amongst The Stars

Chapter Three

Can't Take My Eyes off You - Frankie Valli "Pardon the way that I stareThere's nothin' else to compareThe sight of you leaves me weakThere are no words left to speak"

I can't stop thinking about Quinn after they leave. Every little thing I do draws my mind back to them. I know it's wrong, and I shouldn't be, but I am jealous of their partner. God, Josh, you sound insane. Pining for a person you've met one time, being jealous of their partner. Their partner doesn't respect them, so their partner doesn't factor in. Sometimes, I wish brains functioned like an etch-a-sketch because I try shaking my head to clear those thoughts, but it doesn't quite work, and I end up with a minor headache. Oh well. I walk back up to the front of the store, disinterested in actually working now that my day has been positively derailed by a lovely and mysterious person in a pair of beat-up Doc Martens.

I stand by the front registers, waiting to greet customers as they walk in. Hobby Lobby has never been my favorite place to work, but it really isn't so bad when you're a manager and can choose to fuck off on the clock if you want to.Which I do. I want to fuck off on the clock badly. I look down at my watch, noting that I only have 20 minutes until I can clock out for the day. There's no sense in starting a new task, I smile to myself. I'm pleased I've managed to time my "greeting responsibilities" so well with the end of my shift. I stand around for a minute, bouncing back and forth on the balls of my feet, and I let my mind drift back to Quinn. Their lips looked so plush and biteable. It should be illegal that they nibbled their lips in front of me while I didn't have the option to offer my assistance.

I ponder their lips for another moment before my mind slips back to their concerning comment. "He'd done a lot worse for less..." My eyebrows furrow as I try to imagine a situation in which I would be anything short of sweet and kind to Quinn.

I meander out of the first set of sliding doors and step into the area where only the ugliest furniture goes to die. Goin' to the Hobby Lobby lobby, I sing to myself as I take stock of the atrocious seasonal items that no customer would ever think to purchase. That's a lie; old women exist. I walk the area and make a mental note to bring the feather duster out tomorrow to tackle the growing piles of dust that inhabit the, reasonably, rejected items. I run my finger along the gilded frame of one of the paintings that's propped up atop one of the fucking ugliest baby pink chalk-painted tables I've ever seen. Of course, it's chalk paint, I shudder. My thoughts return to the painting; it's massive, at least two and a half feet long—a highland cow with fluffy hair covering its eyes and an inexplicable crown of leaves resting upon its stupid little horns.

"Oh, Bessie," I whisper, pulling my finger back from the frame and examining the dust that came with it. "They could never make me hate you. I may hate everything in this sad room, but never you." I decide to check the markdown schedule tomorrow because, as much as I love this goofy little cow, I will never take her home at full price. I do have some standards.

As I'm about to turn around and head back into the store proper, I hear the entrance door slide open as a man about my age, give or take, walks through.

"Oh! Hey, man. Welcome to Hobby Lobby," I greet him. "Lookin' for a dude named Josh." Me? I take a second to look him over. Curly, blonde hair that sits a bit too close to his eyes. Nondescript black tee with baggy jeans. A wallet chain attached to his belt loop. A fucking wallet chain. What year is this? Well-worn Adidas sneakers. He seems safe enough. A bit worse for wear, but he doesn't seem scary.

"Ah, yep," I stick my hand out, offering it in greeting, "that'd be me!" He looks at my outstretched hand and scoffs. Okayyyyyyy, maybe I misjudged. "I just wanted to talk with you, man to man." "About..." "About you flirting with my girlfriend," he cocks an eyebrow. "Not sure what you mean, champ," I let out an awkward chuckle."Don't pull that shit with me, man." "I'm afraid I really don't know what you're talking about. I haven't said more than 'hi, welcome to Hobby Lobby' to a girl in weeks." "So, you're gonna act like you have no idea who Quinn is?" I narrow my eyes, putting two and two together. This is Quinn's shithead partner. "I don't think they'd appreciate you calling them your girlf—" "I don't exactly care what she'd appreciate right now," he cuts me off, "I'm here to talk to you."