Louder Than Words ✨ Guns N' Roses

03.

I fucking hated Laurel, which I sourly repeated to myself over and over after I left the office, late that night. What kind of person forces another to type stupid transcripts until 10 o'clock? I didn't even get to read them, the pressure was so intense.

So, I sucked up my first-day woes and decided I was gonna go shopping for all those nagging essentials I couldn't live without for long. I knew I wasn't gonna have time during the day to shop, and the motel soap was seriously on the way to giving me lizard legs.

I threw my wild red frizz into a messy bun, threw on my old Purdue University hoodie (without bothering to wear a bra, who needs that) and some shorts. If I'd known what would happen later, maybe I would've spruced up a bit.

I grabbed my wallet and walked down the street to this disgusting little mini-mart. The inside was ratty and stunk of cigarettes, but I'd already come this far and wasn't turning back.

The guy behind the counter stared at me intensely as I shopped. As I migrated toward the feminine aisle, I certainly wasn't looking forward to checking out and having him scrutinize my purchases.

I went into the aisle, hoping to quickly get in and out. And I would've, if it hadn't been for the alluring stranger browsing the condom selection a little further down.

I couldn't help but freeze in my tracks just to admire him.

He wore tightish black jeans, messily tucked into heavy Doc Martens. A sleeveless cut-off t-shirt hung loosely from his deep bronze colored upper body. His arms were just chiseled enough, as was his chest, which peeked through the shirt just enough to drive me wild.

Even more interesting, though, was his hair. It was everywhere, and I seriously mean that. Wild and curly, just like mine, only his was very dark.

I made a throaty little sound, which I hardly noticed until he turned to look at me. Or maybe he had that superhuman sixth sense that somehow allows you to know when someone else is staring.

That hair of his partly shielded his eyes, but the rest of his face was... just so perfect. His features were soft and sweet, almost as if he were a child, but somehow still maintained an aura of physical attraction. His lips parted as he gazed right back at me, probably wondering why the weirdo with the glasses wanted to have a staring contest in the intimate health aisle.

Normal me would've turned away in shame and quickly rushed out of the store, but for some reason, that seemed idiotic. No, I was in Los Angeles now, and that's not how things worked around here.

I was on a losing streak. I figured a little ego boost with a stranger I'd never see again could help get me on the right track. I wasn't really wrong, per se.

I took a few confident steps toward him (or at least I hope they were) and gave him my best smile. "What, you don't know which ones will suit your... needs?" I gestured to the colorful boxes of condoms he'd been previously fixated on.

He looked quickly at them, and back to me, almost as if he were embarrassed. How could someone like him be conscious of that?

"Oh, don't play innocent now. You were the one gazing lovingly at the magnums," I giggled into my hand, trying my best to seem nonchalant. He just blinked at me, saying nothing, but I think the corner of his mouth came up a little, like a half smile.

That was all the motivation I needed. "Well, while we're at it, lemme give you a woman's perspective here. The Trojans are all fine and dandy, sure, but the spermicide burns like shit. The ultra ribbed really feels like ultra nothing, if we are being honest, and if you use the lambskin you're practically asking to contract AIDS."