"Good evening-sweet Jesus it's you." I scoff, throwing myself off the edge of my cubicle thing. The back buttons on my pants scrape on the crappy plyboard used to construct this ghetto store as I try and not feel overly excited.

The mystery man smirks. "Not Jesus, Emerson." He corrects, holding out his hand. What a smooth introduction. My hair covers my right eye, not that I could tell anyway. I look at his hand, and hesitantly shake it. Maybe this is a step in the right direction.

"....Leanne." I reply. I know I'm being overly cautious, but I've just been so disillusioned lately. I could make excuses all day. Emerson's hand envelopes mine. I can feel his callouses on the perimeter of his hand, but his palm is soft. "Leanna." He repeats slowly, exaggerating the vowels. I flush, and confusion floods my body in direct consequence. Why does his voice effect me like this? "You're very quiet Leanna." Emerson remarks, leaning on the bar between us, elbows supporting his chin as he watches me intently. He hasn't let go of my hand, and instead kisses my chapped knuckles. I need to moisturize.

"I don't have much to say..." I shrug. I look around and notice something missing. "...are you not buying anything?" I slip my hand out of his, not wanting to be caught "flirting". Emerson shrugged, his lower lip pouting out. "I thought I'd wait until you got off work." A shy smile settled on his face as he looked at me. Such a puppy. If I was any other girl, I'd be flattered that an attractive stranger sought me out to talk, then chose to wait for me to get off of work in a ghetto clothing store. But I'm not, instead I'm just confused.

"Why?" I ask instead, going back to my seat behind the register as I glance at the clock above the door I would close on my way out. Fifteen minutes. Emerson moves around the counter, into the space reserved for employees. I quirk an eyebrow at him as his tall, skinny frame crosses the invisible boundary line. He sits across from me. He's significantly taller than me, but when we sit next to each other our shoulders are almost level. He's the perfect height to rest your head on.

"You're special." He whispers, staring into my exposed eye. I subconsciously flick my head to the side, accidentally revealing my mismatched and defective right eye when my hair falls away from my face. His eyes land on my right one, widening slightly before he smiles. "Your eyes are pretty." He compliments. With audacity I could never summon myself, he tucks hair behind both my ears and holds my face in his hands. I don't know how to react to this intensity.

Crap. I didn't mean to show him that. My eyes are different colors, the left being a light hazel, the right an extremely pale blue. The optic nerve never fully developed in my right eye, giving the iris a slightly murky appearance. I used to wear colored contacts to hide it, but eventually I just got used to the looks. Luckily, I can still feel the eye and move it as I please, but my depth perception did suffer when I was younger. Not that I really noticed, never having a sense  provided for some interesting adaptations.

I look to the side briefly, then back at him. "And only half functional." I say bitterly. Emerson blinks in shock. "You're half blind?" He asks in interest. "On the right side." I admit. Emerson's eyes widen in realization. His gaze stays focused on my blind eye, seeming surprised that it looked back at him dead on. "That's why you didn't see me coming earlier!" He connects the dots. I almost wanted to lead a slow clap for him.

"A built in blind spot. Now, if you'll excuse me Emerson, my shift is over and this store is now officially closed." I smile sarcastically at him as I take his hands off my face. He looks affronted at first, and watches me clock out and then close down my checkout register. He follows me as I exit the store, flicking some light switches as I go. The boss was still inside, so I didn't need to lock up.

I can feel him hovering behind me, hesitating on walking beside me or just staying behind me. "Personal space Emerson." I say, walking a little faster to avoid tripping on him. His chest was flush with my back, and I could smell the caffeine on his breath. But as I put distance between us, I kind of regretted it. The warmness. God I'm so physically starved.

"Where are you going?" He followed me like a lost puppy. I look over my left shoulder, seeing him smirking at me kindly as I walk. "Home." I answer shortly. His eyes flash in panic. "Wait! Can I... can I get your number?" He asks, catching my shoulder like last time, this time just blushing as his free hand buried itself into his pocket. I look at him, playing up my contemplating.

Who wouldn't want an attractive guy to have their number? Especially Emerson. He smells good, he's kind, he cares, and he's (hopefully) smart. He's chasing after me, and trying desperately to get and keep my attention. Meh.

"Sure." I say, smiling briefly. His eyes light up.
"You smiled!" He cheered, poking my cheek. I smile again, my cheeks heating up a bit. Curses. "Stop it! Here, give me your phone." I hold my hand out, and he smiles at me fondly before unlocking his phone and handing it to me.

His wallpaper was a picture of two guys and a drum set. Both guys are tall, and look kind of like Emerson. Semi. In a way. "Who's this?" I ask, flashing his phone screen at his face before I start to make myself a new contact. His face lights up from the glare of the phone and then from excitement.
"My brothers! The goth one is Remington, he's the middle child, the other guy is Sebastian. He's the oldest." I soak up this information slowly. "You're the baby?" I smirk, handing back his phone. He sticks his tongue out at me, before continuing.

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I have more merits however. For instance, I'm a drummer too." Emerson brags, leaning in towards me. "Oh cool." I say with mild interest, subtly leaning back. "Remington's the pretty face who sings, Sebastians the pretty face who plays guitar, and I just sit in the back and keep a beat." He says humbly, waving his hands dismissively. I choke out a laugh. "I feel like you're super underselling it." I shiver violently as a particularly harsh breeze blows between us, reminding me of a warm bed at home. "At least tell me the bands name." I ask, but more like demanding.

"Palaye Royale. Now get home, you're freezing." He pushes me lightly to my car, one of the only cars in the parking lot. I didn't question how he knew it was mine, as I had unlocked it a few second ago. "So bossy." I tease, making his laugh as I walked away.
"You'll love it later Leanne." He called, his voice taking on a different tone that made me stumble as I walked. My face flushed.

"D-don't say stuff like that!" I yell back, breaking into a jog as I heard him laugh with pure mirth. How yandere of me. I slid into my car, taking a deep breath and leaned my head on the steering wheel. I give myself a mini heart attack when I put pressure on the horn, and I swear I could hear Emerson's contagious laughter as I jolted.

I leaned my head on the head rest, eyes closed. I breath deeply for a few seconds, then open my eyes and rub my face. The day has been compartmentalized, and processed. "Just get yourself home Lea. Think Pizza and Netflix. Pizza... and Netflix." I start the car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"DEAN!"
"SAMMY!"
"Dean Sammy oh no." I mock, lifting a slice of pizza up so I could get the bottom of it into my mouth. My head turned sideways and righted itself as I bit into my third, face-sized slice. I'm not even eating to be full anymore, this is just to feel something and simultaneously satisfy some neglected beast. The TV was the only thing illuminating the room as I shoved food into my face relentlessly.

Grunts and punches were all I could hear, until my phone buzzed on the table in front of me. I looked at the screen, confused as I was ripped from my Supernatural immersion. It's one in the morning, so who's texting me. Oh wait. So naturally, I leave the pizza hanging in my mouth as I lean over and grab my phone.

Unknown: Hey, its Emerson.

I blink at my phone, genuinely surprised he texted.

Hello

Even in text you don't say much.

Guess not

So what are you up to?

Pizza date

With a guy?

Why, you jealous?

I smirked, congratulating myself on my quick wit. He took a few minutes to respond.

No.

I think you're lying.

Emi, I'm not with anyone. Unless Netflix counts.

Good.

Good? Good?! What's that supposed to mean?!

Good?

Yeah. Good. Hate to think you had someone else to pay attention to.

You're conceited.

And you're blunt.

Touché.

Want to meet up tomorrow?

Why?

Cause I want to see you, why else.

This is called entrapment and it's illegal

What?

Idk I've just always wanted to say it

Dork.
Whatcha wearing 😏😜

Woah. I blush heavily, and decide to skirt (hehe) around the question.

Clothes.

That's not how this works Leanne

This makes me giggle lightly, and I finally pick up the pizza sitting in my mouth and bite into it, staring at my phone screen. This is surprisingly entertaining.

I know.

You just like being difficult don't you.

Maybe.

Ride.

?

Rude*

Ohhhh Good cuz I thought you were
being suggestive lol.

Ha, Whatever.

I scrunch my eyebrows, something lingering in the back of my head.

Emerson?

Leanne?

I quit my job today.

He's quiet for a second, leaving me on read. I don't even know why I told him that.

Oh. Is that what you meant earlier?

Yeah.

Oh. Well now I feel dumb

You didn't know. I appreciated the
concern though.

Yeah?

Yeah. It's... new.

And with that, I turn off my phone and turn back to Supernatural. No man is going to keep me from my Winchester's for more than ten minutes. That's my rule of thumb. My phone buzzed again, my gaze moving towards it and lingered on it, before disregarding it.

Then it buzzed again. I stared at it, before turning back to the TV.

And again. I'm getting slightly irritated now.

And once more. That's it.

"Jesus what does this guy want?" I huff, still smiling a little bit as I reach back over and check my messages. How persistent.

Emerson🙃🎩🥁:
Why is it new?

Leanne?

Did you fall asleep?

Alright, well. Goodnight, love.

I blush at the nickname. I just met the guy today and he's affecting my brain and heart so much already. It's not fair. God. I debate internally on responding, because it could reveal I was kind of ignoring him. But, it would be ruder to leave him on read. I could just turn off read receipts, though, but where's the fun in that?

Night Em