borderline / muke

four

luke

My head rested on top of my hand. I could feel my eyelids repeatedly drooping, no matter how much I fought to keep them open. I'd been in the same position for about two hours and I could tell nothing was to change in the coming hours, either.

My eyes flashed up to the old clock hung on the wall. 2:00. Three hours until I would be freed from the hell that is the Grocery Store Arts.

I found myself wishing for the small bell on too of the door to ring throughout the store. Normally, I'd go out of my way to avoid any sort of human interaction, but I was unbelievably fucking bored. I'd counted the packs of gum on the shelf next to me about nine times already. The only face I'd seen today was a middle aged woman with her toddler looking for pool noodles. After I'd kindly explained that it was fucking below freezing outside and it wasn't exactly the season for swim apparel, she made her exit from the store. And that was that.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket behind my apron, I swiped up and pushed the play button, not remembering what I last listened to. Gasoline by Halsey came booming from my phone speakers, causing me to jump and press the volume button rapidly to turn it down.

My phone wasn't set back down on the counter for two seconds before the bell above the door was jingling. I grumbled to myself, rolling my eyes into the back of my head. I wished for customers all day and now that there was one, I wanted them to leave immediately.

As I heard footsteps getting closer, I snapped my head up, plastering on my best "Hi, welcome to Cubix!" smile. It dropped off my face as my eyes met the pair I've been thinking about for the last week.

"Well, look who it is," Michael greeted, a grin taking over his face. He wiped his shoes on the carpet at the door so he wouldn't slip on the linoleum.

My eyes widened as he got closer. He was dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket. His hair was no longer red, but bleached blonde, almost white. I coughed to myself, almost choking on my own spit.

"Fancy seeing you here," I told him, crossing my arms.

"It's a less depressing environment than where we first met," he chuckled, leaning against the wall of the cubicle across from me.

"Not by much, actually."

"I didn't know you worked here," he said, shrugging off his jacket to reveal a long sleeve white shirt.

I shrugged. "I try not to come into work as much as possible."

Michael threw his head back and giggled. His adam's apple was huge, bobbing up and down his neck. "My life," he agreed.

It was silent for a couple moments. Halsey's voice was still flowing around us, soft and comfortable, like a blanket. Michael took a deep breath suddenly. "Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold," he began to belt out the lyrics. He came closer to me as he sang, putting his freezing cold hands on each side of my neck.

I squirmed away from him, laughing. "Stop, you're gonna freeze my heart or something if you keep touching me."

Michael's high pitched laugh bounced off the walls, filling my ears. I felt my cheeks heat up at the sound. How could everything about him be adorable?

He leaned up against the counter next to me, our hips brushing against each other. His hands were freezing, but the rest of his body radiated warmth. He let out a deep breath, tilting his head towards the ceiling.

"How's the boyfriend?" he asked playfully, hitting my shoulder with his.

I rolled my eyes. "Same old, same old."

"Did he make up for being a jerk off?"

Images flashed in my head. Clothes strewn on the floor. Blown out pupils. Calum's sweat stained forehead. Fingertip sized bruises still lingering on my hips. Hickeys on my neck.

I glanced up at Michael. "Always does," I mumbled.

There was a small smile on Michael's face as he stared down at me. His eyes were sparkling, like he was excited. A light shadow of stubble was forming over his chin and neck. He looked too happy to have those scars on his wrist.

"You should just dump him and date me for real," he stated bluntly.

My eyes widened almost out of my head, my mouth opening. Michael burst into laughter at the look on my face. "I'm kidding, Luke," he jokingly shoved at me, making me stumble to the side.

I tried my best to give him a convincing push back. "I know, duh."

I cleared my throat after that, reaching to pause the music on my phone. "So did you come here for something specific or do you normally just hang out with the cashiers?"

Michael glanced down at himself for a couple seconds, like he was genuinely trying to remember why he came here. He tugged at the sleeve of his shirt softly before his head snapped up again. "Oh yes! I came for bandages."

I felt a sinking feeling occur in the pit of my stomach. I gave him a once-over, trying to figure out what was going through that head of his.

"Care to point me in the right direction?" Michael asked, turning to look at me.

I pointed towards the back of the store. "Aisle 9 is your bandage heaven."

Michael gave me a smile and a soft pinch on the elbow before he disappeared between the shelves. I let out a deep breath, slumping against the counter. I heard boxes being pushed together as Michael attempted to find what he was looking for. A small "A-ha!" was heard, causing me to laugh softly.

He returned a few seconds later, eight boxes of bandages hanging from his arms. He looked pleased, like this was the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"You're right," he told me. "That was my bandage heaven."

He let them all fall on the counter, and I began to ring them up, small dings being heard as the items scanned. "You must have had a nasty fall or something," I tried, putting the small boxes into a plastic bag for him.

Michael let out a humorless laugh, staring down at my hands. "You could say that."

"$8.47 is your total, sir," I informed, making him grin at me. He pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, giving me a ten. I dug his change out from the register, dropping it into his palm.

Michael walked past me, picking up his jacket, slowly putting it on. I watched him as his back was to me, attempting to fix the collar of his coat. He turned to me suddenly.

"Do you, like, want my number?" he asked quietly, playing with the hem of his shirt. "You know, just in case you want to go on another fake date or something."

I chuckled, feeling my neck heat up. "Yes, Michael. I want your number."

Michael reached around me to grab a pen from the cup holder next to the register. When he found one, he pushed up the sleeve of my work shirt, staring to write on the skin of my wrist.

He finished a few seconds later, dropping the pen on the counter. He picked up his bag full of bandages, starting to back up towards the door. He threw me a wink. "I'll see you later, Luke."

After the door had shut, I peeked down to my wrist. Right next to his number, he wrote "Knight In Shining Armor."