Chapter One
Clarissa was standing in line at the grocery store, flipping through a tabloid magazine. She frowned and rolled her eyes at the rumors that were flying around about different celebrities. Under normal circumstances Clarissa would have never picked up the periodical, but she was caught in a long line without anything to read. The book in her purse pushed against her side and she considered beginning it again. She had finished it while she waited at the bank, but rereading a book she just finished didn’t sound appealing. It sounded rather boring so Clarissa settled for the ‘smutazine’ as she had dubbed them in high school.
The express lane was moving slower than Clarissa had ever experienced. She rose to her tiptoes trying to see over the tall man in front of her, but it was impossible. Clarissa hated being short. Sighing she braced her legs for a second and held tight to her cart before springing into the air. She didn’t stay airborne long, but it was long enough for her to discern the problem.
It wasn’t the normal middle-aged woman sporting the name tag of ‘Blanch’ standing behind the counter of the express lane, but a younger brunette, whose name tag Clarissa hadn’t had time to read. Normally, Clarissa liked to remember the names of everyone she encountered on a day to day basis, but she didn’t care if the woman at the checkout counter was a Molly or a Cynthia. She was eating away into her busy schedule and Clarissa was worried that she was going to be late for work.
“Come on,” she said impatiently under her breath, trying not to be over heard by the other customers. She didn’t want them to misinterpret her impatience as an entrance to start a conversation.
Clarissa bounced on the balls of her feet growing more impatient with each passing second. Hearing a noise behind her Clarissa looked over her shoulder and frowned at the guy standing in line behind her. She looked away quickly before he tried to engage her in conversation. Not that she looked like the sort of person he would talk to, but Clarissa knew that bored people did desperate things.
“Great,” she thought to herself, “It’s another punk or Goth, I can never tell the difference. They all wear too much black and have piss poor attitudes.”
Clarissa hated when they came into the coffee shop where she worked. Their piercings and clothes didn’t bother her too much. Clarissa believed in self expression through fashion (although she thought they could find other colors to express themselves), but what bothered her more than she wanted to admit were their bad attitudes and poor manners. She didn’t expect every customer to be a sweet old lady or a funny hipster, but Clarissa had gotten into more than one argument with the scene and punk kids that came into the coffee shop late at night.
Unlike the other baristas, Clarissa wouldn’t take their crap with a smile. She had better things to do besides me insulted by someone who spent most of the day putting on more eyeliner than she wore in a month. Not that Clarissa usually wore makeup, except for work.
Despite her dislike of his fashion choices Clarissa glanced over her shoulder at him again.
“Cute,” she thought to herself.
Clarissa ran her hands through her long brown hair and sighed. She could feel the guy behind her starring at her ass and was about to turn around so she could give him a piece of her mind. He was cute, but that didn’t mean he had the right to stare so hard that she could feel it. Hadn’t the jerk ever heard of being covert? Clarissa never got the opportunity to ask him, because he spoke.
“I’ve had enough of this,” he said and began to step past her.
Clarissa jutted her hip out to prevent him from cutting in front of her. It put her ass in direct contact with his body and she felt herself blush. She hesitated for a moment, but she wasn’t about to let this loser make her even later for work. No way, no how.
“Nuh-uh,” Clarissa said, “Wait your turn.”
He tried to pass her again, but Clarissa wouldn’t budge. She hadn’t stood in line this long to let him skip ahead. Clarissa turned on her heels to face him. He stood about six inches taller than her five foot six and had spiked black hair and deep brown eyes. Having always had a weakness for brown eyes, she found herself captivated by them for a second before managing to look away.
Clarissa wasn’t sure whether his natural locks would have been that color or not. You could never tell with these punk kids. It felt strange to her to think of someone as a kid, since she hadn’t been an adult long, but she wasn’t considering his age. It was his attitude that made her brand him with the label.
Clarissa wasn’t sure how old he actually was and she wasn’t going to ask. Although, she did think about it for a second. Maybe she could distract him and he’d forget about cutting in line. He wasn’t bad looking and his deep brown eyes made her want to swoon. Maybe it could be a welcome distraction for them both. Clarissa shook herself mentally and tensed her body so he couldn’t pass.
“Why are the cute ones always assholes?” she thought to herself before speaking.
“I’ve been standing in line for fifteen minutes,” Clarissa said. Her hands automatically went to her hips when she spoke, “and I’ll be damned if you think you’re going to cut in front of me.”
“I’ve got important places to be,” he said and pushed past her, bumping into her shoulder and then cutting in front of the old man who had been waiting in line ahead of her.
“Young man,” the gentleman said, but the guy ignored him.
“Excuse me, sir,” Clarissa said and squeezed by the elderly gentleman.