May 9th –
I realized today why I’d spent an extra two years in college double-majoring in art and biology for my undergraduate years and then decided to go for my masters. People are terrible. Specifically, working retail is terrible. I salute anyone, like that nice lady at my parents’ grocery store, that have spent decades working retail.
It took me a good three days after I had finished unpacking my things, which was mostly my clothes, art supplies, paperback novels, and my DVD collection which consisted of every season of MacGyver and Murder She Wrote, to realize that I was bored. The big house was too quiet for comfort and I wasn’t prepared to start ghost hunting yet. So, I got a job. The only job I could get in the small town of Miller’s Cove with my impressive credentials was a cashier at the local grocery store.
I spent the better half of my shift dealing with couponing queens and teens trying to scam me into buying them beer. I had just finished mopping up the remains of a broken watermelon when I saw him.
Now, do you remember that moment in like ninety percent of romantic comedies from the nineties and early 2000s when the hot love interest comes into the room and everything goes into slow motion? That’s what it was like. It’s the only way I can describe it, really.
He was tall and muscular, with dark, shaggy hair that curled around his ears. I know what you’re thinking. A bad boy? With a leather jacket and motorcycle? Yes… Shut up. This is my story. He was probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen or could believe existed. I thought he wouldn’t notice me in my bright green store vest, Marvel comics tee shirt, and paint-covered jeans. But he did… And I may have, accidentally, spit my Diet Coke all over his shirt.
He was that good looking, so I couldn’t believe my ears or eyes, let’s be honest, when he stopped at my station to ask where to find the charcoal briquettes. After the unfortunate encounter with my drink, he just stomped off like I smelled like fresh garbage. I didn’t smell like garbage: just watermelon, Diet Coke, and cleaning supplies.
May 14th –
Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. The hot guy came back to the store again. Breathe Katie. He came in dressed in black and looking gorgeous followed by two men that I couldn’t decide if they were his bodyguards or backup dancers. The other checkers and I talked for about fifteen minutes about how they kind of reminded them of a boy band, a very hunky boy band.
When he first walked into the store, I was fully prepared to hide under my check stand so he couldn’t see me. I would have done so if Mrs. Jenkins hadn’t decided to tell me a story about her cat, Mr. Muffinface. The lady was too cute and too nice, so I had to stay and listen to the story.
When our eyes locked, my tummy felt like jelly and my knees felt as sturdy as dried grass billowing in the breeze. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his dark, almost molasse-colored eyes. What’s going on with me?
May 15th –
I am only writing this down because my diary happened to be in my purse when it happened. Today is my day off. I decided to go down to the nature park a mile or so away from my house. When I’m in an artsy mood, I like to draw and sketch. Since trees and animals aren’t as intimidating as drawing people, it was a safe bet for reference material.
I had pulled out my camera and started snapping photos of the cool rock formations that I saw. Suddenly, I swear that I saw Hot Grocery Store Guy and his two backup dancers through my viewfinder to talk with three other men who also looked like they could be backup dancers. In some weird custom or fight club thing I don’t know about, they ripped off their shirts and… I swear I’m not crazy. They turned into wolves. REALLY BIG WOLVES!
It’s been three… no, four hours since I saw Hot Grocery Store Guy and his buddies turn into dogs. And frankly, I’m a little scared. It wasn’t as cool as the stories online describe it to be. What makes it worse, is that I think Hot Grocery Store Guy or one of his backup dancer friends might be following me.
After my hike at the nature park, I decided to reward myself for exercising with ice cream. As one does. When I left the store and got on my bicycle, I swear some giant man in a black hoodie was following me. I didn’t look back or try to confront him, I just peddled my little tuchus home.