Eye Contact - Costco

There is nothing I hate more than when my roommate, Jessica, works on Saturdays.

Because that means that I have to do the Costco shopping by myself. Which sucks, of course, on a Saturday, because everyone else's wife or husband or mom or sister or roommate also made them go out to get milk on a Saturday when all you want to do is wear pajamas and watch Christmas movies.

And normally, Jessica and I would go together, but she picked up an extra shift at the pottery shop she works at. And thus, I am now in the entrance of Costco by myself surrounded by soccer moms. It's the land of my people.

My little sister, Bella, even has the audacity to text me and ask me to get her protein powder because she knows I'll be here at this time. I text her back passive aggressively and slide my phone into my purse, where I notice an extreme lack of wallet-ness.

Great.

So now I have to push past all the eager soccer moms who are buying the healthiest trail mix they can find to exit the Costco empty handed, which, for the record, is totally frowned upon by the Costco employees, as opposed to just turning around and walking back out the entrance, which is way, way worse.

And I walk out of the store and there's this guy.

Who, just to throw it out there, is totally gorgeous. He has dark brunette hair, darker than mine, and he's tall. His eyes are bright in the overcast November clouds. He's wearing just a white hoodie and jeans, and he's kinda staring at me.

Which is kinda nice, since he's the only other person under 30 that I can see, and it's good to know that our generation can still shop for ourselves. And that our generation can still be impeccably and completely jaw-dropping.

And I want to talk to him, but I don't, so I just smile and keep walking. He doesn't turn around or chase after me, because this isn't a musical and I'm not Indina Menzel.

Just a dumb girl who forgot her wallet while distracted by a bunch of middle-aged moms.