On my walk home I passed "Variety Video" and they had a help wanted sign in the window. Since my new (potentially fabulous) life may require additional funding, aside from what I earn with the occasional babysitting gig or handouts from my parents, I decided to apply for the job.

It may have also crossed my mind that there's a college guy that works there.

I noticed him at the start of the school year and discretely pointed him out to my best friend Tara with a whisper

"Hey T, what do you think about the guy behind the counter?"

Tara stood on her tiptoes and looked over the shelves. "He's decent looking I guess. I don't love the long hair."

I put down the copy of "Dirty Dancing" that I was holding after deciding it would be too embarrassing to rent it from him. I peeked over at him again. "His hair isn't that long. It's not longer that mine. I don't know... there's something about him that I like."

She shrugged. "You always go for the more artistic and intellectual types, so it makes sense."

The guy looked up from his book and I immediately ducked my head to pretend I was browsing the tapes on display instead of staring at him. "I don't know how you can determine I have a type when I've only dated one boy."

She picked up a copy of "Footloose" and laughed. "Who listened to Morrissey and wore paint splattered jeans..."

I dragged Tara out of the store without renting anything that day.

Today I peered through the paned glass, in between the movie posters, to see if the sign was up because they were seeking a replacement for the cute college guy. (Whose name was actually Jason, which is pretty much the only thing I knew about him since it was on his nametag the next time I went in and actually worked up the nerve to rent something.)

But there he was.

So I pushed open the doors. The bells that hung on them tinkled brightly, heralding my arrival. Their cheerful jingle seemed a harbinger of good things to come and I practically felt like skipping into the store. (Hey that bit wasn't too bad... It actually felt pretty literary...)

At the sound, Jason looked up at me for a moment before he returned his attention to the book he was reading. It was unusually quiet in the store. The place was empty and the volume on whatever movie they were previewing was very low.

I took a deep breath and walked up to the counter. "I'd like to apply for the job."

He pushed the hair from his eyes and furrowed his brows. "How old are you?"

"I turn seventeen in July." It sounded better than saying I was sixteen.

His lips quirked into a half smile. "So you're sixteen."

Okay so maybe it actually sounded a bit pathetic, like when a little kid says they are eight and three quarters years old. I cleared my throat. "Yes I'm sixteen. Is there an age requirement?"

He scratched at his chin. I wondered if it was a calculated move to make me look at the goatee he had started growing. It worked, and I decided that his jaw line is really nice.

Then Jason said, "Not necessarily. But did you consider that you would have to rent out videos from the back room?"

Suddenly my tongue felt too big for my mouth. "Oh! You mean the um... the um..."

He raised his eyebrows at me and finished my sentence. "The porn."

I couldn't look at him, so I looked at the big television on a wall shelf behind him. Huge mistake! A "Basic Instinct" trailer was playing, which was the closest thing to porn I had ever seen.

The blood rushed to my face, but I was determined to stay cool. "Well I was going to say adult videos or maybe X-rated movies... But yes... I mean no... I won't have a problem handling them... No I mean I will perform the duties... I mean..." (So much for playing nonchalant)

He chuckled to himself as he laid his book face-down on the counter. "I know what you mean."

While he pulled out a piece of paper and attached it to a clipboard, I darted my eyes at his book. It was titled "Trainspotting" and I made a mental note to check to see if I could find it in the school library tomorrow.

Jason picked up his pen. "Name?"

"Melissa Anderson."

He filled in my answer. "Date of birth?"

"July 7th, 1977."

He wrote but then stopped and jerked his head up at me. "7/7/77. Really?"

I sighed. Everyone always had the same reaction when I told them my birth date. Frankly, it was getting pretty old and I was tired of it. Nearly seventeen years of "lucky" and "jackpot" jokes will do that to you. "Yes really. It's probably the only thing that's interesting about me..."

Jason shook his head. "Maybe you shouldn't say something like that at an interview."

The leather of my new doc martens creaked while I shifted my weight and put my hands on my hips. "Is this an interview? I thought we were filling out an application? Which... I can write, so I can probably manage it on my own."

My tone was definitely rude, which was not ideal given the situation but I felt pretty defensive in the moment. Plus it could have been worse - at least this wasn't an interview for college acceptance, even if it was one for a job.

Then he laughed at me again before he said, "Maybe I'm trying to see how well you listen and what your attitude is like while we fill this out."

Ugh, that was it! I decided right then that Jason was obnoxious! He might be cute, but working with him and his condescending manner would probably be painful. I looked around for another worker and asked, "Are you even the manager? Are you the person that decides if I'm hired?"

He raised his eyebrows at me but didn't say anything. Which made me even more aggravated, nearly to the point where I could have (maybe I should have) walked out. But I didn't. Instead, I cleared my throat. "How old are you? 19 or 20?"

He laughed for a third time as he scribbled something on the bottom corner of the paper. "I'm the one asking the questions today Missy."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Are you a psych major? And just an FYI - nobody calls me Missy. My friends call me Mel, but you can call me Melissa." Then I crossed my arms for good measure.

He put down the clipboard and crossed his arms too. "Maybe you actually can deal with the guys that go to the back room..."

I didn't know whether to be offended or flattered.  I took a pen out of my backpack and reached my hand out for the clipboard. "If I can handle them, then I can fill that out by myself."

He picked it up off the counter and bit at his cheek for a minute. His pen was against the bottom corner of the paper again, like he was thinking about writing something else. But he didn't. Instead he abruptly placed it into my waiting palm. He cleared his throat. "I just wanted to see if you could carry on a conversation. You've come in here nearly every weekend since September and I don't think you've ever said more than two words to me... Hi... and... Thanks..."

My stomach felt like a balloon full of helium. He had noticed me?! I didn't know what to say. I wondered if he was flirting with me or teasing me.

But when he added, "...because actually speaking with customers is part of customer service," the balloon inside of me deflated.

So I said, "I can speak just fine." But I actually kind of mumbled it, which wasn't exactly the best way to prove my point.

I felt extremely awkward at that moment, so I took the paperwork over by the front window. It was as far away from the counter as I could get without actually leaving the store, which only made me feel more ridiculous. Because how exactly was I going to work with this guy when I didn't even want to stand in front of him to complete a simple form?

But when I looked down to do just that, I saw that he wrote "Not actually shy" in tiny words on the bottom corner. I smiled to myself and resisted the urge to look up to see if he was watching me. It felt like he was.

Now I was pumped up enough to follow through with what I started.