A continuation. Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.
“Great, I’ll help you check out right over here.” She took the package from his hand and walked behind the counter. The manager stood and made some inane remark about the software, which he’d never used. The man wanted him to evaporate. She did too, but not for the same reasons.
He tried not to do anything stupid as they conducted the transaction. He wanted to touch her fingers as he handed over his credit card, but then consciously tried not to, thinking he’d come across as weird. Her smile seemed more relaxed with the counter between them. She felt more secure in the enclosure of the checkout stand. Not that she felt threatened by him, just that she liked having that barrier between her and all of the customers.
“You’ll have to let me know how it works out for your.” She handed him his receipt and his bag, incidentally brushing her fingers across his palm. Coming back to tell her whether he liked the software would be another chance to talk to her. Good. Good. He felt relieved that he wouldn’t have to think up an excuse.
“I will,” he said. He stood there, maybe a little too long.
“Have a great night,” she said, prompting him to go. “Stay dry out there.”
He left the store, disappointed that he hadn’t asked her on a date, but also even more interested in her than before. Thoughts raced through his head as he walked down the mall. He had hoped that she was smart and knowledgeable, but their conversation had confirmed that and more. He was ready to go home and tear into the package so that he could come back as soon as possible to report his findings, and then perhaps in his gratitude he could naturally segue into inviting her to dinner or something.
“Mr. S_______?” A voice called out behind him. Not very many people called him that. He was thirty, but somehow not involved in many circumstances where people used anything but his first name. He paused and looked behind him. His heart jumped into his throat. She was walking briskly up the mall. He smiled and breathed a bit heavily, wondering if she was taking the initiative to talk to him. He liked the idea of her surprising him again, of being bold enough to pursue him. Then he saw his umbrella in her hand. “You’ve left your umbrella. Sounds like you might still need it.” She smiled and gestured toward the skylights, clacking with the continuing downpour.
“Oh.” He struggled not to show his disappointment. The smile in her eyes saved him. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” She handed him the umbrella and began to walk away, sideways for a few steps, looking at him, but moving away. “Don’t forget. I want to know if that works out for you.” She pointed at the bag in his hands.
“Definitely. I’ll be back to let you know.” The smile she returned took his breath away, but she didn’t see that part. She was now walking away, with purpose, in her clunky black shoes.