Queen

Rymer

        Fuck me! What in the hell was I thinking? I was just dancing around like an idiot and now I am hiding in the storage room. I don't think that I can ever come out of here. I have shamed myself too much. I have to live alongside this dirty old mop and a bunch of old porn magazines. This is my new life. 

       "Rymer! Get up here. I am taking a smoke break and there is a customer wandering around somewhere," my coworker Melanie yells. She is always doing this kind of stuff to me. She thinks that it is super funny to watch me blush. I definitely don't think that it is funny. The other day she forced a cute boy to flirt with me. My face turned the color of a stop sign, which you think would make her stop. She didn't stop. I spent the entire night crying. 

        I do not feel like I am a giant baby or anything. I hardly ever cry. I hate being dramatic. I like to keep whatever I am feeling bottled up neatly inside my head. Nobody else needs to see my crazy. Melanie knows how to push my buttons. I know that I am not attractive. I mean I am a size sixteen in pants. That might as well be a size forty around here. I used to be a lot bigger, though. Thanks to diet pills prescribed by some sketchy doctor in Tennessee, I have actually lost sixty pounds. I am still a blimp, though. Guys don't see me as the type of girl you would date. I am more of the comic relief. I am twenty-two years old. I am a loser, and I accept that. 

        I reluctantly make my way to the cash register and relieve Mel of her tedious job. She takes at least ten smoke breaks a day. Sometimes I find myself hoping that she will turn into a cigarette so that I can light her on fire and be done with it. I make myself look buys by stocking cigarettes. I don't want to see the cute boy who was obviously making fun of me earlier. Well, he wasn't actively mocking me, but I could see it in his eyes. He probably thought that I was insane. Once I saw him there I ran straight to my phone and cut the music off. I just hate cleaning so much. I cannot stand to clean. I can't even begin cleaning without music, and Queen always does the trick. I can belt Bohemian Rhapsody or We Will Rock You, and I turn into a Stepford Wife. I clean like there is no tomorrow when Freddie is singing my soundtrack. 

        I glance up to see that the cute boy is headed to the cash register. I have a brief internal panic attack and I look up and greet him with a smile. 

"Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes my lady. I am assuming that you don't have any Vegemite," FUCK! Red alert! Cute boy has an Australian accent. I am trying not to gape at him, but good grief. I am a sucker for an accent. I want to leave this town so badly. I would probably move to Russia just to get away. 

"HA! The vegemite is right next to our kangaroo boxing gloves and our boomerangs. Did you not see it?"

He gives me the most devastatingly handsome smile and my insides melt against my will. "I suppose I missed them. I was trying to find the Queen cds as well." His smile turns to a smirk and my insides freeze back into hard ice. 

"Your total will be $7.45. Debit or Credit?" I am not in the mood to be mocked right now. I am on the verge of slapping his hazel eyes out of his gorgeous head. 

"Ummm.. Credit. Sorry if I offended you. I was just joking around. I love Queen, actually. I saw them perform with Adam Lambert in Chicago this summer." His smile has vanished and he looks almost sincere.

"That show was actually on my birthday. I wanted to go so bad, but I couldn't get off of work. Piece of shit job."

He laughs and says "You have a great taste in music, Miss.."

"Rymer. Rymer Jane. Sorry I am such a bitch. I have had a shitty day. Take this complimentary piece of chocolate as an apology."

He grabs the chocolate but eyes me warily. "My name is Ashton. It is nice to meet you, Rymer. I hope that I see you again. As long as this chocolate isn't laced with cyanide or anything." He smiles that devastating smile once again and leaves with his bag and my breath. God he was gorgeous. I hate my life.