Pirouette [h.s.]

chapter 5

// she dreads the devil's yet to show //

// so damn reluctant to expose it to me //

All My Friends -Dermot Kennedy

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As suspected, as soon as I recount the details of the creepy man's harassment, my boss is quick to let me close early. All I had to tell him was that some fucker came in and started saying shit and that was that; I was free to leave. Dino's sucks for a laundry list of reasons, but at least I'm treated like a human being and not just a workhorse.

Harry's quick to chime in gently with a quiet, "I think that was more than just a little bit of daily harassment."

But I pretend to not hear him, and he doesn't push matters further. And that is the last we talk about what happened tonight.

Harry stands by the door while I finish closing up the gas station, fiddling with his phone in one hand and loose change with the other. The gentle clanging of the coins in his pocket creates a peaceful white noise throughout Dino's, and I'm silently thankful for that. The only reason my brain isn't having a field day is because I'm focused in on it.

It isn't until I'm wiping down the counter that I realize how truly batshit crazy this whole thing is. Why the fuck did I agree to this? Harry is as much of a stranger as a stranger can get. All I know about him is that he has some apparent fascination with blueberries and showing up at Dino's in the middle of the night.

I'd been around him for less than an hour in total, and yet here I am, agreeing to pick up food with him. He could be a psychopath murderer for all I know.

And yet, somehow I just know he isn't. Maybe it's because he had me in a position where I was fully vulnerable, relying on him to stop that man. He could have easily taken advantage of me or the situation, but he didn't. Bare minimum, but it goes a long way sometimes.

No matter what it is, something about Harry just makes me feel safe. It feels...easy. He radiates comfort and compassion in a way that makes him instantly trustworthy. I mean, he intentionally came to the gas station for the sole purpose of apologizing for being a little snippy with me.

Or maybe I just feel obligated to go because he saved me.

Yeah, that's definitely it. I just feel obligated.

"Is everything okay?" his voice draws me out of my mental spiral, and I realize that I had been staring intently at his shoes. I feel my cheeks heat up as I turn to pull my drawstring bag onto my back.

"Yep – all good. I'm ready to go." 

He flashes me a star-studded grin, like a sweet acid trip straight down Hollywood Boulevard. It stretches all the way across his face, plunging two canyons into his cheeks. I swear there's unfiltered light pouring out through the cracks between his teeth, that blinding, searing, beautiful combination of white and gold.

I'm taken aback, a little, by his shiny smile. In a good way. His smile is galactic - all stars and supernovas - and it sends my brain spiraling into a black hole.

I quickly notice that he's one of those people that smiles with their whole face – twinkly eyes with little crow's feet crinkles at the corners, and those movie-star dimples, like scooped out dollops of whipped cream. I'm usually jealous of those people, wishing I could feel that loudly, express that clearly. But, right now, all I can see, all I can feel, is Harry's smile.