Supermodel

1

I stood behind the counter with as much patience as i could muster. Working at a retail store was not as easy as one would think it is. I'm always being called or picking up things customers just have no care to pick up themselves. The boy in front of me being one of them.

"How much?" They guy asked. And he would've known had he been paying attention the first time i'd said it. Instead he had is eyes on his phone the entire time i rang up his clothes.

I need a break from Urban Outfitters badly.

"$652.36." He hadn't batted an eye at the price and it made me wonder what his occupation was. But really it was none of my business. It was clear that whatever it was warranted these types of shopping sprees. He handed me a card.

"Swipe it." I said to him, declining the offer to take it. And because he wasn't looking at me before he glanced at me and rolled his eyes before swiping the card.

"Fix the attitude." He snarled as he traced his signature. Was he talking to me? I've just about lost all my patience today and he was treading on dangerous grounds. I wasn't in the mood for him. I just need to get him out of my line.

Maybe his tattoos made him feel as if he was someone to be feared. But i'd spent most my life scared so it was hard to feel fear most the time. Especially by some random guy who clearly thought everyone was entitled to him.

"Get out of my line." My attitude was really starting to catch up to me. I'm not very good at controlling my anger. He smiles as he loops his tan, tattooed hand around the hands of his bags. Dimples on full display.

"Feisty." He teases and i roll my eyes, disregarding his presence all together.

"Fuck off."