Malachi Gregory (Volume One) - Rough Draft (Final Copy Coming Soon to Amazon)

Chapter 1: What If You're the Chosen One?

Mal's POV

I walk through the crowded parking lots of the Alamo Ranch shopping centers, casually observing the people around me. I come here a lot, because it's one of the best places in San Antonio to people watch without feeling claustrophobic. There's a dozen restaurants, half a dozen department stores, 3 grocery stores, and a whole lot of traffic all within the same cluster of parking lots. That's why I love coming here so much. There's something in the area for everyone. And, as much as I hate crowds, I need to be in them as often as possible so I can help as many people as possible.

I smile as I walk past a cute young couple heading through the north entrance of Target. They can't be much older than sixteen, if that, but the shared look on their faces says forever and I'm certain it's true. They're as in love as anyone ever has been, and if either of them should ever have a love that lasts forever, then it will be with each other. If I were to predict their future, and I'm not usually wrong in doing so, I'd be able to see them getting married, having their first child together, rocking in their front porch swings, and watching their grandchildren play in the yard. Not all love lasts forever, if you can even call it love if it dies, but some love does. And I'm certain this couple, as young as they are, will see a long, happy future together.

I sigh contently as I watch them flirt and giggle, playing together as they take selfies and steal quick kisses, even as they walk through the sliding doors of a big store. Absently, I wonder if I'll ever have that, a love that makes me see no one but him. I don't even know if I want that, but even if I do, it's a consideration for another time. Right now, I've got work to do.

As I continue to walk past the Target entrance, I notice a charming and conspicuous cowboy leaned up against the wall as if he were waiting for someone. I roll my eyes and laugh quietly to myself as I wonder, "Can a man be anymore of a Texas stereotype." I want to be surprised by his attire—a wide-rimmed cowboy hat, genuine leather cowboy boots, dark jeans with a big belt buckle, and an unbuttoned flannel shirt over a burnt orange UT longhorns t-shirt—but I'm not. Sure, it's a hundred and ten degrees outside in the dead heat of summer in Texas, but it's still Texas and cowboys are still cowboys. Still, there seems to be something off about him, but I can't seem to put my finger on whatever it is.

He smiles at me as I realize I've been looking at him for just a moment too long. I feel the embarrassment rise to my cheeks. People don't usually notice me watching them. Of course, the one guy who is a clear Casanova would notice. He flashes me an impish grin as I look away. Uh oh. He's attractive and he knows it. That's dangerous. Of course, I'd never vocally admit he's attractive, but all the denial in the world can't keep me from seeing it. He's attractive, but worse he's a Casanova. Casanovas who know they're attractive tend to steal your heart, play with it, and then never give it back as they place it on a shelf. Of course, I'd never be in danger of that, but it's still something to steer clear of, just in case. After all, stranger things have happened.

I can feel him watching me as I continue walking past him, pretending I never noticed him, especially that I never noticed him noticing me. Sometimes, you can feel someone watching you, and you immediately know why they're watching you. Or, maybe not why, but how they feel as they watch you. I don't risk a look to see, but I have a feeling he's frustrated while watching me. I can't imagine why, except that maybe he's not used to rejection? If he really is a Casanova, then he's probably used to girls falling all over him. Too bad for him, because I'm not going to give him any more attention than I already have.

Before I can think on it further, I'm reminded of why I'm here. I stop walking when I notice the girl I was looking for. She's younger than I would have imagined, but all the school-aged kids these days are. That or they're much older than they should be. Maybe that's what it means to grow up? You graduate from high school and surpass the average age of college graduates, then everyone younger than you seems much younger or much older than they should be. I don't know, but it doesn't matter right now. I've gotten off task again. I look at her closely. It's definitely the girl I was looking for.