Macto

6; Too Much Peeping

"Ma'am, this is the ten-items-or-less check out lane," An artificial smile crept upon my neutral face and my voice extended to an unnatural, bubbly pitch.

She was maybe in her late 30's, with heels much too high for a Thursday. I could almost feel the pain for her as she stumbled around in seven inch stilettos. The screeching of the cart against the tiled floor suddenly indicated that she was out of sight.

It honestly concerned me how many people, on a daily basis, failed acknowledge the appropriate check out lane according to their amount of groceries.

"My Brita! Good shift today?"

Marcus was a genuinely kind-hearted man with a big beer belly, but an even larger personality. The lines subtly sketched across his face were from so much laughter over the years. In my opinion, those were the good kind of wrinkles. The ones that could show the world that he lived life fully. And didn't take anything too seriously.

My mother briefly mentioned him from time to time, always with positive remarks. Memories of her giggling nonstop filled my mind when I recalled shopping here with her as a child. Her laughter stemmed from his jokes and lovely attitude.

He had given me the part-time job two years after she left, on my fourteenth birthday. Without even a word from my mouth, he knew she was gone. His arms had wrapped around me the day I had come to pick up bread by myself a few weeks after my twelfth birthday. Alone was not something I ever was back then. My heart clenched at the memory.

"Its going pretty well, Marcus," I let out a silent laugh and focused on bagging the elderly woman in front of me.

Since he was almost like family, Marcus had insisted that I call him by his first name. Awkwardness was associated with the idea at first, but it was natural now.

"You have such a beautiful smile, it is wonderful to see it!"

His Italian accent was prominent as ever as he strutted away from my station.

"Do you need help with your bags, ma'am?" I sweetly questioned the customer in front of me.

She responded with a soft grin and a "no thank you, dear," as she made her way out of the store.

For once in the past two hours, there were no customers lined up in the aisle. My slightly sweaty hands skid across the oversized apron that hung off my torso. Printed in the center was "Accardi's", Marcus's surname and the title of his store. He had spent hours choosing a design, asking me over and over again which was the best. A smile crossed my face as I recalled his passion that day.

A gorgeous, lively bouquet of poppies were gently placed on the conveyor belt, followed by a tiny box of Peeps.

I felt myself let out an exasperated breath as my eyes met an icy glare. A glare I had seen too much of lately.

He was clad in a long sleeved tee and baggy sweatpants. His hair swept across his head in an appeasing fashion. Only he could pull it off.

Since we had been assigned partners, just days ago, no words had been exchanged. I was perfectly content with that, but in the back of my head I was reminded that we were working on a project together and that meant communication. My veins filled with fire the instant I thought about having to spend time with the self-conceited asshole in front of me. But there was no way in hell that I was going to fail a summative simply because my partner was intolerable.

"Red," His slightly scratchy, deep voice rang in my ears. I knew why girls were attracted to him, physically.

Childishly, my eyes rolled to the back of my head as I carefully rang the flowers and Peeps up. I refused to speak to him because it would only lead to unsuppressed anger. And I did not need to be fired from this job.

"It's rude to ignore a customer, maybe I should tell the manager." He placed his fingers beneath his chin, and pretended to think through his ridiculous accusation.

"Decisions, decisions.." A slight smirk marked his devilishly attractive face as he taunted me with a chilled tone.

"I definitely didn't peg you as a 'candy and flowers' kind of guy," the words tumbled from my mouth before my brain could stop them.

His muscular body slightly leaned into my work zone and the familiar aroma of peppermint permeated the air around me. I wanted to gag and take a deep whiff at the same time.

"I wouldn't make assumptions about what kind of guy I am, Red." He was almost whispering, his voice even lower than before, with slight defensiveness.

I scoffed and shoved the plastic bag against his chest.

"I think I will do whatever I want, now go run off to your girlfriend," I turned around and pretended to be busy on the cash register.

"You're quite a pretentious little bitch, you know?" There was no anger in his words, or at least not any that I could pick up. A new emotion was laced in his tone. I thought about it as I heard him make long strides across the floor, getting more silent by the second.

The density in the store begin to decline as the sun did the same. Ten minutes had flown by since Benz had so wonderfully shown up as I noticed the clock strike seven.

I placed my apron on the rack and took my name-tag off. My hand waved goodbye to Marcus and my coworkers as I headed out into the street and began the walk home.

Accardi's was located in a safer part of the edge of the city, not too far from my building. Normally, it was about a thirty minute walk, but Ella had shown me a shortcut that cut the time to about twenty.

My feet took off beneath me, as I carefully remembered the correct path. There were barely any people on this route, which made me straighten my spine a little and pick up the pace. My subconscious assured my safety as I remembered the pepper spray in my bag. And the self-defensive classes I had taken at thirteen. I could damn well throw a punch if I needed to, regardless of my petite frame.

"Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls played over and over again in my head. Silently, I hummed the song and glanced at my surroundings. Surprisingly, this was a part of town I hadn't discovered. Even throughout my seventeen years as an occupant of New York, this section had remained unknown to me.

In the distance, I could make out a cute church, accompanied by a graveyard.

What I did not expect to see was someone opening the gate of the land infested with dead people. I would not have given it a second glance, but the distant blue shirt on the stranger struck a cord in my mind.

It was not a stranger, it was Benz. There was no doubt.

My eyes remained glued on him as I purposely missed my turn and headed in his direction.

Without warning, I was overwhelmed with possible theories as to why he was there. Curiosity overcame me, ignoring my subconscious that was desperately pulling me the other way, begging me not to follow him.

Once I approached the entrance, a chill ran up my spine as my brain comprehended the fact that I was practically alone at a graveyard at night. But it was too late to turn back.

The gate let out a screech as I entered and searched for the familiarity of Benz's shirt. Relief flooded through my body as I spotted him about 100 feet away. My feet gently brushed the ground beneath me, and I steadied my breathing, despite my pounding heart.

He was staring at tombstone, just feet away from his. A plan had not been formulated yet as to how I would exit without him becoming aware of my presence.

This really was too risky, and I didn't need Benz pestering me about my creeping for the rest of high school.

My body shifted towards the way I had came in with as much grace as possible.

"You really shouldn't be here, Red."

I did not even have to look at him to know that he was more pissed off than ever. Oh shit.