T W O

The rest of the shift goes much slower than the first half, as it normally does. We typically get an early rush as people head to work and students stop by before class, and then we do get a few regulars for lunch every day. But the early evening is always a slow time. People would rather get home than stop for coffee. Not that I blame them, I yawn, wondering if three cups of coffee in a shift is too many.

Nadine and I usually spend this time chatting, watching some TV in the corner until a customer pops in, or cleaning up. But we've kept the shop tidy today, and there isn't anything good on the television. "My head is pounding," Nadine murmurs, kneading her eyes with long fingers.

I look over at her sympathetically. She gets migraines every now and again. "Well, why don't you head home? I can close up tonight."

"Are you sure?" But even as she speaks the words, she is already heading behind the counter to grab her bag and remove her apron. "I'll pay you extra this week," She winks.

"You know that's not necessary," I refuse, stretching out on my bean bag chair.

"Mhm," she murmurs, collecting the rest of her things to go home. "You have a good night, Miss Emma," she calls over her shoulder as she leaves. I wave through the windowed storefront, grabbing a novel from the shelf and hopping on a stool behind the counter.

Only another forty five minutes, I check my watch. I sigh, opening the old book up, feeling the creaks of the worn out spine, inhaling the scent of its old pages. I'd grabbed it without looking, but it's an older copy of To Kill A Mockingbird, one of my favorites. I smile, beginning the first page happily.

Before I know it, it's four o'clock. "Closing time," I hum to myself, placing the book back on the shelf for another reader to enjoy. I untie my apron, placing it on my own special hook behind the counter. As I enter the break room to grab my purse, I hear the soft chiming of bells at the front door.

"Oh I'm sorry, we're clo-" I stop in place as I notice the same spiky hair I saw earlier this morning.

"Obviously." Beau mutters, his lips not even beginning to turn upwards. He looks around the shop, a dissatisfied frown on his face.

"We open at seven," I tell him curtly, throwing my denim jacket over my arm and finding my keys.

"I don't care when you open." He rolls his eyes. "I told you I'd be by at four to pick you up."

I almost trip over our welcome mat when I hear his words. "Excuse me?" The door is half open as I look over my shoulder, the breeze sending blonde strands in my face.

"Are you that dense that you don't remember or are you messing with me?" Beau's dark brows come together in an even deeper scowl.

"You didn't ask to pick me up." I turn to face him, arms crossed firmly over my chest.

He shrugs. "I asked when you were off work."

I glare at him, annoyed and confused. He glares back as if I'm the one being difficult instead of the other way around.

"I don't know who you think you are," I say finally. "But you don't get to storm in here and bully me into leaving with you." I watch his expression turn from annoyed, to shocked, to angry in a matter of seconds. I take advantage of his stunned silence to turn and exit the shop. Once I'm outside, I stare at him impatiently. "Almost done in there? I need to lock up."

Beau saunters out after me, taking his sweet time. I roll my eyes as I turn the key. "Who I think I am?" He finally spits. I look up at him, he's standing right in my personal space and I have to tilt my head back to see his expression. His face is scowling but his eyes seem somewhat amused. "Are you serious?"

I laugh humorlessly and nod once. "I am."

"I'm Beau Lewis." His voice is flat, eyes squinting down at me.

"You are." I agree.

He cocks his spiky head to the side like a confused puppy. "And?"

"And?" I repeat. "Who you are doesn't give you the right to treat people poorly." I shrug.

Beau's brows shoot up in surprise. "Treat you poorly? I'm taking you out, for God's sake."

"You didn't ask." I shake my head. "If you had, you'd know I have no interest in going out with you." With that, I begin my short walk to the small grocery store at the end of the street, reviewing my grocery list in my mind. Eggs, milk, chocolate chips, do I have enough butter? I need to start writing things down more.

"Hey!" Beau calls after me, footsteps thumping against the pavement.

"Is for horses," I shout back.

Beau is right beside me now, his strides much longer than my own. "What?"

"Hay is for horses. You've never heard that expression?" I smirk. His green eyes are wide as he takes in my expression. I can tell he's unsure of what to do next, and I revel in the realization. "Are we done? I need to go grocery shopping."

Beau bites his lip but doesn't say anything as he walks alongside me. I guess it isn't a crime to walk next to someone, I sigh, trudging along the cracked sidewalk. The air is still warm, even now. We need a break from this heat, I think to myself. "Okay, fine. Whatever. Forget about earlier - how about this? I'll pay for your groceries, and you come out with me tonight."

I exhale loudly. "I can pay for my own food."

"Sure but I bet my job pays more than yours does." Once again, there isn't a smile to accompany his remark, just snarky arrogance.

My fists clench around the shoulder strap of my bag as I grit my teeth. "I'll manage," I push the rattly metal door and shove my way into the small mini-mart. "Hey Stevie," I wave at the boy behind the counter.

"Emma," Stevie smiles his toothy grin, eyeing Beau carefully behind me. It's rare that we get visitors in our little town, and it's even rarer that I'm seen out and about with a guy. Not that Stevie hasn't tried already.

I scan the aisles carefully, feeling a craving for sweets. I'll make cookies later on but I need something now. Grabbing a large bag of M&Ms, I make my way to the cold section, feeling Beau nearly trip over himself as he follows me. I tear open the bag, popping a few candies in my mouth as I grab my other items. "Look, forget the groceries. I'll just pay you for the night," Beau leans down to mumble into my ear.

I jerk away as his breath tickles my skin, "I'm not a prostitute,"

"Oh my God. Just forget it." Beau snaps, storming back the way we came.

I could really use the money, I think to myself. I'm two months behind on rent, and even though Nadine wouldn't mind me living in the apartment for free, there's no way I'm going to take advantage of her generosity. "Five hundred," I blurt out without even realizing my mouth is moving. Beau's feet stop moving immediately.

"Are you nuts?" He snaps, venom dripping off of every word. Sensing his desperation, I hold my ground, never taking my eyes off of his. Finally he cracks, like I thought he would. "Fine. Five hundred. Fuck,"

I smile smugly, taking my time throughout the rest of the store. At the register, I chat with Stevie about his landscaping business, making sure to ask more than enough questions. Beau grows more and more impatient with each encouraging comment I make, and soon he is nearly shaking in his skin. "Point taken. Are you done?" He's whispering in my ear again, but I ignore him until I feel ready to leave. I exit the shop and immediately turn to go home.

"My hotel is this way." Beau murmurs, texting furiously on his phone. He's always on his phone.

"My apartment is this way,"

Beau scoffs, a sarcastic grin wide over his face. "Something tells me you don't have anything to wear tonight." I look down at my old, white converse, knowing I don't have many other options in my closet. Wherever he plans on taking me, he's probably right. I grumble to myself, but ultimately decide to follow his lead.

"You swear you're not going to kill me or anything, right?" I peek at him from the corner of my eye.

Beau looks up from his phone only to roll his eyes at my comment and then we stay silent the rest of the walk.

***

"Can you hurry up in there? We're already late." Beau hammers on the bathroom door. The truth is, I'm finished getting ready. But I can't make myself leave the bathroom.

I've been in this hotel before, everyone has. It's the only one in town. But this room has probably never housed another occupant. It's the most expensive suite the hotel has, which by our small town standards, is probably not that amazing to Beau. But to me... this bathroom alone is bigger than my own bedroom. The tile is cool on my bare feet as I stand in front of the mirror.

The massive mirror spans the entire bathroom wall, allowing me to observe myself on a grand scale, and revealing all of my discomfort. I can't align my reflection with who I feel like inside. My reflection wears a tight, golden dress, with little off the shoulder straps. The neckline is much lower than I'm used to, the hem much higher up my thigh, putting my long legs on display. This is a far cry from a black T-shirt, apron and jeans, I blush. The jewelry in my ears and on my fingers is far too expensive to ever wear out of the house.

Beau said we didn't have time to do hair and makeup and I'm thankful that we didn't. I don't think I could take much more of a transformation - at least I can recognize the face in the mirror, I think, taking in my cat-like brown eyes and full lips.

"Let's go!" Beau bangs the door again, jolting me to reality. I stumble out of the bathroom, clutching the incredibly high heels in my hand. "They go on your feet." Beau smirks sarcastically as he raises a finger to point at the shoes.

"I know." I roll my eyes but pop one foot in, then the other. "Oh!" I gasp, surprised at how different things feel with six extra inches. My face, in particular, is much closer to Beau's and the thought distracts me for a moment.

Beau eyes me carefully and for the first time, he doesn't look entirely displeased. "It'll do," I feel both exposed and irritated as his eyes trail my body. Who does he think he is?

I study him as he  double checks to make sure he has everything he needs. He's in a crisp black suit and he looks almost as uncomfortable as I feel. He still has his black eyeliner and unruly hair, though, and I find myself wondering if the liner ever comes off or if he ever flattens his hair down...

"You look nice, dressed up." I offer to ease the tension.

"I look like a tool," Beau scoffs. "Which is exactly what they all want, so screw me I guess." I look at his face, curiosity burning inside me. The last part seemed more to himself than to me, though.

Somehow, I refrain from asking the million questions in my mind. Still, I feel entitled to at least one, so I ask where we're going as we leave the suite.

Beau exhales deeply, giving me a knowing look that I don't quite understand. "Dinner." He says simply. He did answer the question, even if he was still unhelpful.

"Oh," I mutter. We're at the elevator now and I feel so silly in this stupid dress. I tug at the hem and the neck line simultaneously.

"Stop that," Beau instructs, pressing the down button with a tattooed finger. Too nervous to argue, I do as I'm told, wondering where the hell this man is taking me.