Irrelevant: A dark love story

Chapter 3

Ok look I'm not one to exaggerate situations. I've been through rougher crap, but that kid, guy, whatever, scared me. It was like for the first time in my life I was helpless, desperate for someone to save me. I hate that feeling. But I can't shake the feeling that this punk, the one who hated me from the start, saved my life. Or at least some form of that. I can't stop thinking about it, his face imprinted on my mind. The way his features twisted into a sorrowful look, trying to find some way to communicate how sorry he was. And I don't care what my mind tells me...that means something.
Or perhaps I am reading too much into the whole situation. After all who wouldn't help another struggling human being in need. You'd have to be some sort of horrible person to stand back and watch a man try to rape someone! 'He is still a douche' I think to myself. I decide there is nothing more to it then basic human instinct and move on, but not before lingering on the thought of his shiny brown eyes staring at me.
Later that day I go into a guitar shop to interview for a behind-the-counter job. My foster parents told me they can't support me alone and need me to help out. And before you get all worried because I grew up in the system don't. Yes it sucked but I'm with a good family now. And I'm not at all upset I need to help out, it's only fitting.

As I walk into the shop I notice the place is older, and one of the hinges on the door is broken. I swing open the door to find a shop cluttered full of guitars, yet neat at the same time. I shuffle over to the reception desk where, I might add, only men are working. When they see me they all seem to stiffen up.
"Looken for guitar lessons love," one of the younger men says coyly.
"Um no," I say a little annoyed yet shy, "I've come for an interview. With, uh...wait what's his name? Oh yea, Jeff!" The entire staff of men giggle and I realize all their eyes are on me. They must not get many girls working in their store. They also must not do very much work as all of them are sitting on stools behind the counter.
"Jeff's room is straight back and to the left," one of them says with a bored expression on his face. He sports glasses and a Black Sabbath t-shirt. Almost like a mix between a metal head and a geek.
"Thanks," I respond, my voice embarrassingly high. It gets that way when I'm trying to be polite.

I make my way back, admiring the beautiful wood warped in the shape of guitars. The colors all entwining in each other. Their strings newly strung, a beautiful sight. My white vans pad along the grey carpet and I arrive at Jeff's office. I knock a little and the door creaks all the way open, and I fiercely apologize, scared of losing a new job before I'm even interviewed. Jeff just laughs and tells me it's fine. He is a bigger guy with a white goatee. His belly sticks out and he looks a bit like he's still stuck in the 70's.

The interview is actually a breeze. After a few questions about my work ethic and talking about recommendations from previous employers Jeff hands the job over to me. I can't help but be utterly excited. This job is much better than any of the waitressing and nanny jobs I've had before.
To my surprise boss tells me to get to work right away, and that some other employee would show me the ropes. I happily agree and follow him towards a sound room, one that they use to teach guitar lessons. I look at him with a questioning look, "wait why are we going to the sound room I'm working behind-the-counter?" I stated apprehensively.
He laughed once again, "well I have a little more trust in you then the others so as well as working the counter you'll also help string and clean guitars. Alright?"
I nod my head in acceptance, a bit scared of screwing something up, knowing myself.
"And the guy that'll brief you used to work the counter too so he can teach you everything there is to know. He teaches guitar now."
We come to a stop in front of a large black door with no knob, one that you just push on to enter the room.
"Shit my beeper keeps going crazy. I have to go take care of some business. He's right through that door. Trust me he's really very good at what he does...not the friendliest fellow but what are you going to do eh?" Jeff shrugs as he gives me a warm smile and pats my arm. His warmth is comforting.
I take a few deep breaths and decide it's best to just get the interaction with the "unfriendly fellow" over with. I push the door open and greet my new mentor.
"Hello it's nice to-"
I almost choke on my own spit as my eyes re-adjust. All I can think is 'fuck'.
Please tell me this is a joke.
Sitting before me...is the punk.

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[Ok guys so I know this is a really short chapter and I'm sorry for that but I really want to make this a long fanfic so no worries. Thank you for any support you can give me whether that's reading and voting for it yourself or telling your friends about it too, which would be awesome! Please vote and comment how you like it!!]