Fake Fiancée

1. Marry You

1.  Marry You

“I think I wanna marry you, just say I do.” - Bruno Mars

“Takea break my darling; I could hold the fort for you. Didn’t you say your mother needed some clothes? Shoo shoo, I’ll watch your station.” My best friend Danny said. He had been bothering me over the last twenty minutes about taking a break. I’ve been here since five am, working non – stop, but what can I say? I need the money.

Mum’s pills prices have been raising a lot, and with the hours I already do I can’t pay for both her medications, and the rent, so I had to ask for extra hours. But I guess it’s Wal- Mart, not even extra hours will be enough.

“Fine… But if George catches us, you take the blame.” I groaned, keeping my hands busy on the shirt one of the costumers didn’t want to buy. “You know how he is.” I continued. George was my insanely hot boss, and the manager of this store. He was hot, yeah, but he was the kind of guy that took his job seriously.

Danny rolled his eyes and took the grey shirt from my hands, waving it rapidly on my face. “Blah blah blah blah, George is out back checking out some new plants, I don’t think he will be back for about thirty minutes so you know your deadline, now hurry up, the clock is ticking.” 

I love this guy.

I didn’t respond, instead I just nodded and grabbed my headphones as I headed towards the clothing area, ditching my uniform behind. My mum needed a few sweaters for the fall which was just entering but it was already freezing outside. 

You’re probably thinking how funny my mother’s relationship and mine is, instead of her working and earning money to help me, I’m the one doing it. But a few months back my mum got a pulmonary embolism, and she’s unable to work now. 

My hands touched the soft fabric of the cotton I was holding, while my mind played back the song I was listening to and I got lost back in the music, waving my head back and forth to the loud, metal, melody.

I already had a few sweaters on my shopping cart, and my eyes were scanning for more when I felt cold fingers grab my shoulders and spin me around. My eyes opened wide at the sight of the camera’s snapping pictures of me, me?

What did I do?

What the hell is going on.

My eyes travelled to the person who had spun me around, my headphones were still on,  he was tall, way taller than me, and had olive green eyes and curly hair. His face held the most shocked, yet worried expression ever. My hands grabbed my headphones and I took them off only to realize all the yelling was louder than the music I was listening to.

“Who is she Harry!?”

“What’s her name!?”

“Hey girl when did you meet Harry!!?”

The cameras and microphones were being shoved on my face and out of the corner of my eyes I could see Danny and George both looking at me with an expression that surely mirrored mine; shock, and fear.

“Move the fuck out!” Someone yelled, but the people didn’t listen, the clicks were still being taken, and the screaming still continued.

“I said move or I’ll shoot!” The same guy yelled again, and the group settled down as the guy passed through to me. He gave me a sympathetic look and then turned to the guy next to me.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, you’re supposed to be staying out of the media Harry, not getting mobbed by them.” The men angrily yelled.