My afternoon was slow moving, and I couldn't get what Jamie had said out of my head. Concentrating on anything was impossible and I ended out mixing up some orders, making my day that bit harder. It took me thirty minutes just to figure out what I'd done wrong, and then another twenty to fix it, which delayed me unpacking the order of amps that had arrived. By the time five o'clock rolled around I was fit to be committed.
"Izzy?," Michelle calls from out front. "Will you be okay to lock up if Carol and I leave now? We wanted to stop off at that art exposition I told you about?"
"Sure absolutely," I say as I step out from the stockroom. I was just finishing up stacking the amps, so I'd happily move on to some paper work out front now until we close up at seven. Hopefully it will occupy my mind.
"Are you sure? You've been a bit out of sorts since your lunch with Jamie. Is everything alright?" Michelle wears a look of concern, she always knows when I'm not quite myself, even if I try to hide it.
As Carol approaches with both of their coats and bags in hand, I decide not to delay them with my issues.
"Oh no, I'm just tired," I say, "you guys go ahead, have fun." I give them genuine smile, eager to get them out of here, but the two women share a knowing look of communication between them, they think I'm lying.
"Really ladies," I insist, "I'm fine, don't do that psychic thing, get going."
"Psychic thing?," Michelle asks curiously.
"Yeah. Y'know', when you talk to each other just by looking in each others eyes. It's seriously creepy by the way, you should really stop doing that." I cross my arms over my chest, trying to appear confident, but I think I achieve more of a 'child pretending to be an adult' sort of vibe.
The two women pause for a brief moment before bursting into a fit of laugher.
"Oh wow! Did you mean telepathy Izzy?," Carol manages to ask through her giggles.
I cover my face with my hands, turning a beetroot colour from the neck up. "Ugh, get out of here you two," I say, "and don't let me hear you repeat that!"
"No problem Psychic Sally!," Michelle teases as she pulls her bag over her shoulder. "The keys are in the usual spot, feel free to lock up a little early if it's dead here, I'll see you in the morning." She leans in and plans a kiss on my cheek, as always.
"Don't forget to set the alarm," Carol warns, just like every other time I close the store too, but I wave her off.
"Go go go, I've done this a hundred times!"
Shooing them out the door, I still feel embarrassed as they titter away with each other.
It irks me sometimes that Carol constantly feels the need to remind me to turn on the alarm, or to lock the door out front and back, or to make sure that I turn out all the lights. It's like she doesn't fully trust me. But I would never let anything happen to this place, I know how much they love it, and I'd hate for either of them to think that they can't rely on me. I need them to know they can trust me with the store. That they can trust me with anything actually.
Jamie often tells me that I don't come across as confident in my abilities. He says it's in the way that I carry myself, that I don't leave a lasting impression. I don't know who I'm supposed to be impressing though. I never really found my confidence to be a problem before he brought it up.
I know he just wants me to be at my best. He thinks he's helping, although I'm happy to simply blend in most of the time.
I suppose I'm pretty plain overall when I consider it. I've never had any real desire
to stand out. All of my facial features are what I'd describe as 'normal'. My blonde hair sits just below my shoulder blades, and it's been that way since I was fifteen. In the winter months I have it toned so it has more of an icy look to it, and I can blend in with the season.
I dress to my own taste, but I think it would generally be considered safe. Today I've went for skinny mid blue denim jeans, paired with a red co-ord knit top and cardigan. Tomorrow I might go for vans and a band t-shirt. Dressing for my mood is what makes me feel most comfortable, so I guess I don't have a signature style as such.
Jamie thinks I march to the beat of my own drum when it comes to what I wear. I know he doesn't mean it as a compliment, but I take it as one regardless. He'd rather I over dressed and bought clothes from the expensive stores where his mom and sisters buy theirs. I could, but it's not very me, so it's like my own little act of rebellion. I almost enjoy seeing his eyes wash over me in disappointment when I come out of the bedroom dressed some mornings.
I guess he can't really have too much of a problem with it though, because it didn't stop him trying to grab a handful of my ass this morning when I pulled on these jeans either.
I'm sure it helps too that I never let him down when we have to attend an event for his work or parents. I'll wear whatever he wants in those situations. He needs to keep a certain appearance up, so I have no problem playing ball.
My make up is something that I enjoy giving my time to though. My friend Mia taught me how to apply it all in high school and I've been obsessed since. I don't shy away from it. I'm not a girl who can slick on a coat of mascara and head out the door. I like to use the stuff. Foundation, highlighter, bronzer, blush, I have a dozen different types of each. But I follow the rule of only using it to enhance my natural features, I don't want to look like I've been gang banged by crayola or anything.
I've tweeked and updated what I use over the years of course, I don't think I could pull off the gothic eyeliner look anymore somehow. I imagine Mia might be saddened to know as much, but I lost touch with her not long after I moved in with Jamie, so I suppose she'll never know.
Some days, putting my face on feels a little like I'm painting on a coat of armour, one that will see me through the day. It came in handy once when Jamie left a small bruise on my cheek. I was able to cover it up without changing my routine, so no questions came of it. It's the only time he left something visible. He was so angry that day, and over something so trivial too...
I shake my head to refocus my thoughts and switch my attention to a guy over by the guitar strings. He's holding two different brands while muttering to himself.
"Hey there, can I help you with anything?," I ask, offering up my best customer service smile.
He glances at me before looking back to the products in his hands. "You mean you don't already know what I'm looking for?"
"I'm sorry?" Does he think I'm a mind reader or something?
The corners of his mouth shift upward, forming a little smirk. I slowly realise that he obviously overheard the conversation between the two ladies and I.
"Oh..."
My shoulders deflate a little bit, and the feeling of embarrassment creeps back up my neck all over again.
"I swear I know more about those guitar strings than I do about telepathy if that helps."
There's no way to avoid my blushes, it's maddening that I'm even this embarrassed about it.
He lets out a small chuckle, and its only then that I really notice him. His smile instantly puts me at ease. It stretches upwards on his face, leaving little wrinkles at the outer corners of his eyes. His eyes. Good God. They're a stunning washed out emerald colour. Paired against his sallow skin tone and head of thick messy black hair, it fells like I'm in the depths of autumn. I wonder if he knows how striking he is?
I notice his arms next. They're completely awash with colour, a landscape of tattoos creep up both arms, disappearing under the sleeves of his shirt. The coloured detail of his body art jumps out against the plain black t-shirt and jeans combo he's wearing. I wonder how old he is. No more than twenty eight or twenty nine I'd guess.
I'm suddenly all too aware that he's staring at me expectantly. Did he say something?
"Uh… sorry, what was that?," I ask.
"I was just checking if you had some particular strings," he says as he picks up another pack off the shelf and looks at it quizzically. "I'm not having much luck though."
"Oh, maybe I can order them for you if we don't have them there? It usually takes about two days for them to come in, although with tomorrow being Friday, it will probably be Monday before they're here, is that okay?"
"I'm kind of under a bit of time pressure, I need them for tomorrow night. It's my own fault, I left it too long to replace them, I might use something else I guess."
He looks back over the selection we have before turning back to me.
"Have you worked here the whole time?," he asks, throwing me by his change of topic.
"The whole time?"
"I don't recognise you. I come in here sometimes, and I figured I'd know you if you'd been here long." He blushes ever so slightly, but I see it.
"Um, I've been here awhile... about two years actually."
I meet his eyes again, becoming transfixed. I know undoubtably that I haven't seen him before, I would have remembered.
He's quiet for a beat, before I realise something.
"Wait, are you looking for the Ernie Ball strings?"
His head snaps up "Those are the ones! How did you know?"
"Did you call here yesterday? Looking for the Slinky ones?"
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm looking for. Was that you? I thought it was someone else. Anyway I figured I'd drop in and see if they had come in today on my way by."
"No, it was Michelle you spoke to, but she mentioned that we only had the bass strings left after you called. I actually ordered some more already, they'll be here in the morning. What type do you need? I'll double check the purchase order."
"You'd be saving me having to play with some much shittier strings if you did," he says, looking back over the few we have. I didn't realise they were so subpar. "It's the super slinky ones I'm after."
"Single?" I ask.
He hesitates ever so slightly. "That's a very personal question don't you think?," he says as he folds his arms and quirks an eyebrow at me, instantly making me feel flustered as I rush to explain.
"I meant pack size!"
Surely he knew that? Although the way his shoulders shake with silent laughter tells me he did.
"A three pack is ideal, but beggars can't be choosers, whatever you've ordered, I'll work with."
"I'm sure I ordered them, let me check."
We move toward the computer up front, I can feel his eyes on my back as he follows me, and start to break out in a sweat. What is wrong with me? It's a guy, I get them in here every day!
Leaning on the counter casually, he eyeballs me as I tap away on the keyboard.
"I wasn't expecting someone who doesn't know the difference between psychic abilities and telepathy to know exactly what I was looking for," he says.
I roll my eyes at his attempt at humour. "You want those strings or not funny guy?," I ask, shooting him a look before glancing back to the screen.
I can see the order right there, and it's good news for him.
"You're in luck," I say. "They'll be here in the morning, you want me to put some aside for you and I can give you a call when they're here?"
"Amazing! That would be great, you've saved me big time. Thank you...uh…" He looks to where my name tag should be, but we dont use them here, never have. "Sorry, I didn't get your name?"
"It's Izzy. Isobel, no, just Izzy."
Seriously? Have a lost the ability to communicate or something?
Scrunching his face up, his cocks his head to the side and stares at me like I have ten heads. "Well, 'Just Izzy', thank you for your help. I'm Will by the way."
"Oh, sure, It's no problem."
Will pauses for a moment, debating something before speaking again.
"Are you here all day tomorrow?" he asks.
"Sure am."
"Can I give you my number?"
"What?"
"F- for the strings," he stammers as his face flushes a deep purple. "I meant, can I give you my number so you can let me know when the strings are here?"
"Oh. Oh of course! Duh. Yeah um, here," I say as I grab a note pad and pen and clumsily passing it to him. He scribbles his number down before giving it back.
"Thank you again," he says, "you're a life saver."
Finishing up, he makes his way toward the door, glancing back at me once and giving a small wave on his way out.
"See you tomorrow" I call after him.
The door chimes closed and I bury my head in my hands on the counter. What the hell was that? I felt like a teenager talking to her first crush or something. Pathetic.
Taking in a deep breath, I let out a sigh. Today has been weird. My head is a mess after that conversation with Jamie.
I quickly decide to take Michelle up on her offer to close up early, nobody ever comes in after six anyway.
Thirty minutes later, I'm finally turning the key in the door to lock up, glad to be going. I try to call Jamie to let him know I'll be home early, but all I get is his voicemail. I don't bother leaving a message, I'll just see him when I get back.
As I wait for the shutters to come down over the door, a voice comes from behind me.
"Hey Mystic Meg!"
It's like velvet. Soothing in a way you don't expect from a stranger. I turn around to find that guy Will with his hands stuffed into his pockets and a bashful smile on his face.
"Oh hey," I say, "sorry I'm just locking up, did you need something else?"
"No, not at all, I was looking for you actually." His eyes roam over the shutters as they come down before glancing at the sign that displays our opening hours. I'm closing a good hour early here.
"Don't tell on me!," I joke with him.
"Absolutely not, I'll keep your secret. Although your moms seem pretty cool."
I don't correct his error, I actually find it funny that it's his first guess about my relationship to the ladies, but I guess in a way, I like the idea of them being my moms. It would be nice to have one around sometimes, never mind two.
As he runs his hand through his hair nervously, I can't help but take him in all over again. I didn't think there was any product in it earlier, and it looks like I was right, because it bounces right back into place with his messy fringe falling to rest on one side of his forehead.
"Um," he says before swallowing, "so I probably could have waited til' tomorrow, but maybe I caught you at a good time now. Are you uh… would you like to get a coffee maybe, with me?"
He thumbs behind him to the cafe at the end of the street, the one I was in just earlier with Jamie.
I find myself locked into a stunned silence, taken aback by the fact that a total stranger has asked me out, or at least I think he's just asked me out? I wonder if that barista has finished for the day? Although why does that even matter? I can't go anywhere with this guy.
"Coffee?," I ask, fumbling with the store keys anxiously.
Will puts his hands up, palms facing outward as if to appear non-threatening. "Just coffee," he says, "nothing weird I promise."
His eyes give off a hint of fun that I desperately want to know more about, but this is insane right?
"Just coffee?," I ask.
"Just coffee," he repeats, moving to place a hand over his heart.
I mull it over. I dont know even know why, there's no way I can go anywhere with him. It's one hundred percent not just coffee. I know that, so I absolutely cannot go.
Looking up, I meet his eyes to find myself entirely hypnotised all over again.
"Okay," I agree, "just coffee."
THAT IS NOT HOW YOU SAY NO ISOBEL!
What do I think I'm doing? Who am I right now?
"But not there," I say, nodding my head towards the cafe. "There's a place just around the corner that's much nicer."
"Perfect," he says as he gestures for me to lead the way.
This is a really, really stupid idea.