I glanced around the store, noticing four customers browsing through the aisles. It was fairly quiet, with only the occasional sound of items being moved or a soft murmur as one customer talked to another.
Xavier stood beside the register on the left, close to the entrance. He seemed relaxed, his back against the counter, casually glancing at the customers. I was on the right, across from him, leaning against the register while trying not to look ridiculous with tissues sticking out of both nostrils. The aftermath of my earlier nosebleed still fresh in my mind, I couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed.
I caught his eye briefly, and he raised an eyebrow in my direction, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. I wasn't sure if he was amused by my current state or just had that kind of face, but either way, I decided to focus on the customers instead.
A few minutes ago, a guy was about to go towards the counter, probably to check out, when he saw me standing there with tissues stuffed up my nose. His eyes had gone wide, and he almost choked on the drink he was sipping, clearly trying to hold back his laughter.
It wasn't hard to imagine what he was thinking: "Did this girl lost a boxing match?"
I could feel the awkward tension in the air as the next customers did their best to avoid looking at me directly. They glanced in my direction, stifling their laughter as they made a beeline for Xavier's side of the counter to check out their items.
At least they're trying not to laugh out loud, I thought to myself, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. I could only imagine what I looked like with tissues hanging out of my nose.
Xavier, on the other hand, remained stoic, smoothly handling the transactions without acknowledging the situation. If he was amused by my predicament, he certainly didn't show it.
As the night dragged on, the store gradually emptied out, and soon enough, we were back to restocking shelves, tidying up the aisles, and then... nothing. The quiet hours kicked in, the time when the flow of customers nearly stopped, leaving us free time.
Xavier, true to form, didn't seem fazed by the lull. He leaned against the counter, scrolling through his phone occasionally, while I went through the motions of checking the shelves even though there wasn't much left to do.
I found myself glancing at the clock more often than usual. Time seemed to slow down. The quiet was almost eerie, but also somewhat comforting, a rhythm I had gotten used to during these late-night shifts.
I thought the whole night with him would be silent but he soon broke the silence, "Is your nose okay?"
His question caught me off guard, breaking the stretch of quiet between us. I glanced at him, his eyes were somewhat apologetic. It seemed that he was concerned about me at least. "Yeah, it's fine now. Also thanks for cleaning the mess I left behind," I mumbled, a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.
He only nodded at me before returning his attention at his phone.
"By the way where do you live? I live at Maple Avenue."
He hesitated for a while before answering, "I live at Willow Drive."
"Oh? So we're neighbors then? That's great."
"Yeah."
I continued having conversation with him but it was like trying to talk to a brick wall. Every question I asked received a simple "yes" or "no," and his face was as expressionless as a mannequin. Yana was right—Xavier barely spoke, and when he did, it was in the most minimal way possible.
I sighed internally, realizing that I might as well give up. If he didn't want to talk, there was no use forcing it. Still, it was frustrating, especially since I was trying to make the night less awkward. The only sounds that filled the air were the soft hum of the store's lights.
Silence.
The silence was too unnerving! I looked at him again and decided to throw a more direct question that would force him to respond.
"You're quite popular here did you know that? I heard a lot about you from the manager to the staffs here."
As I finished saying this, he turned his head slightly towards me.
"Yana even told me that you saw a girl playing in front of the door, was it true? Can you tell me more stories like that?" I was smiling at him as if it's okay for me to hear such things.
For a moment, Xavier just stared at me, and I wondered if I'd pushed too far. But then, he turned his gaze back toward the register, pausing as if carefully considering what to say.
Of course I hated stories where people like Xavier, with their cryptic stories and spooky tales, always seemed to have some kind of motive—whether for attention or to mess with others. There was never any proof, just eerie looks and chilling descriptions, all designed to plant fear in your head. I was just provoking Xavier.
However my smile faded when he looked at me directly in the eye, "I suggest you should stop this."