"That'll be $729.47," I mutter monotonously as the register tray abruptly slips open and bumps into my hipbone. The feeling is slightly familiar at this point after having done this for week now.

A yawn catches me off-guard as I stuff the brand new laptop into two white plastic bags to complete the transaction. I've been working at my school's supply store for about two months now. Of course this wasn't my first choice of jobs, but what could I do with the little experience I had working anywhere.

Even though it may not seem like much, it's become my only form of financial support thus far, so I'm learning to appreciate the minimum wage job. It's absolutely better than nothing.

"Next," I dryly call for the next customer while looking down, adjusting a few things around my work station. I toss an old receipt that a customer forgot in the trash can, I place the security tag into the plastic bin, and I tap the 'RETURN' button on my keyboard to refresh the page on my screen.

"How's it going?"

My bones stiffen upon recognizing the deep, but unexpectedly sweet, honey-like voice. My eyes tentatively draw up to meet the unnervingly striking stranger from earlier. You've got to be kidding me?

"Hello," I say, almost as a comment. The lack of intonation in my voice forces me greeting to come out distant. To soften the blow, I continue, "Pretty good." I nod awkwardly, immediately ducking my head down to my work station to scan the red package he places down. Skittles?

"You don't seem too happy to see me again," he suggests, his voice coming off calm, sophisticated even.

Was I supposed to plan on seeing you again?

That's what I want to say, but there seems to be some disjunction between my brain and my mouth. I can't muster up the courage to say a thing. What the hell is going on with you, Julian? He's just another customer.

"Sorry about earlier," I mutter, lulling my head down in further shame, hoping this interaction will come to an end sooner rather than later.

"I should be the one saying that. I'm sorry about your phone. If you want me to pay for it, I will."

"No no, it's fine. You don't have to do anything," I immediately interject as I find the will to look up at him again.

"Are you sure?" he questions further, trying to meet my eyes in the process. My heartbeat quickens causing my legs to feel like putty as I continue to avoid his intimidating gaze.

Why does he keep trying to make eye contact?

"I would take pleasure in making it up to you by taking you out some time?" He bluntly asks, totally unphased with no sign of trepidation apparent on his stupidly good-looking face.

I feel my soul detach from my being, baring a faint farewell to my body as its absence leaves chills running down my skin. This isn't real. I look around the bookstore waiting for the hidden cameras to fly out, but I see that there is no one else here except my two fellow co-workers, Stephanie and Justice, cleaning up before closing in the back. They are lost in complete oblivion as they've become too caught up in flirting with one another. The two girls can be heard giggling like schoolgirls in the back while I struggle to find sanity within myself up in the front.

Blood rushes throughout my entire body upon realizing that I'm on my own up here. Adding to the immense pressure, he places his hands on the sturdy beige counter and hovers over me, waiting for my response.

"Uhm... I," I hesitate, beginning to stare at his facial features with skepticism, finding some ground in reality.

"How can you go on a date with someone you don't even know?" I spill out cautiously, despite the current tornado of emotions circulating throughout my head.

"Because beauty doesn't need a name."

I nearly choke on air. What the fuck is up with this man? I can't help but chuckle at the extremely horrible pick-up line. I try to smoothly conceal it with my hand but by the sly smirk forming on his face, I can tell that he notices my submission to his lame-ass joke.

"That was corny as hell," I snicker, unable to contain how that truly made me feel.

"But it worked, didn't it?" He pressures with his eyebrow slightly raised at me while he keeps his collected and straight-edge composure.

"I guess," I utter, trying to muster up the courage to challenge his light hazel eyes with my own.

"Well..." He says, raising his eyebrows, signaling for me to fill in the blank.

"Julian, but my friends call me Jules," I add, nervously shoving stray strands of my curly hair behind my ear. I seem to find some ground for merely a second and lose it completely once his velvety voice convolutes my mind.

"Well... Jules. I hope you can at least consider my offer,"  He smirks with a slight dimple elongating his left cheek.

He casually digs into the pants pocket of the same suit he had on earlier to pull out his phone. He hands it to me and almost instinctively, I type in just my phone number, leaving the name slot blank. I'll leave that up to him.

I ring up his skittles and proceed to hand them to him.

He raises his hand, motioning for me to stop my action. "No, you can keep them. I hate skittles." He smirks as he walks through the automatic sliding doors leaving me dumbfounded.

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