Giving Thanks With Vanilla

Chapter two.

         Dad had long since given up on the faucet issue, and I needed a break from my crazy parents. I hadn't been to Colorado in a long time, since I was at college. I decided to re-explore my home town. There was one place in particular that I loved to visit more than anywhere else- a quaint bookstore called Chapter One. Everything about it appealed to me when I first walked in seven years ago. The warm baked-goods smell, the thousands of books lined up on every wall, and the delicious cookies. I was definitely a sucker for their cookies. I used to come to Chapter One after school to do my homework, and right after, I would close my eyes, and randomly select a book to read.

          I walked the distance from my house to the bookstore, as I didn't mind the cold. The minute the sign of the bookstore came to view, I smiled. Wrapping myself tighter with my scarf, I entered the small building. Warm air blasted in my face, and I was enveloped in a wonderful aroma. Oh, the cookies. My stomach growled at the sweetness of the chocolate chips-I could almost taste them on my tongue. I walked up to the tiny counter in the front right corner of the store.

          "Hello?" I asked. "Is anyone here?" I frowned. There was almost always someone at the counter. Chapter One was owned by an elderly couple called the McAdams. They were the only people who managed the store, and they did so very well for their old age.

          "I'm coming!" An muffled male voice came from the storage closet.

          I jumped. I didn't expect anyone to answer. It was probably Mr. McAdam. A few seconds later, I saw his feet walking out of the closet with a stack of boxes so high, I couldn't see his face.

          "Er... Do you need help?" I suppose that was a stupid question to ask.

          Ignoring Mr. McAdam's protests, I picked up half of his boxes. I walked over to the side of the counter and set them down. I turned around to ask if he needed any more help, but when I saw his face, I froze.

          "Who the bloody hell are you!" I screamed, panicking.

          The person I was staring at was most definitely not Mr. McAdam. Instead, I was staring at the face of a handsome young man. Instantly, I thought of my mother's previous words. Have you found yourself a nice young man yet? I shook my head, and gazed deep into his forest green eyes. They looked very much like the McAdams. Slowly, I collected my bewildered self and recalled Mrs. McAdam mentioning that she had a nephew. I sighed in relief, as my first thought was that he was a thief! How thick can I get?

          "Hey. Calm down, I'm Thomas. My aunt and uncle aren't here, if you are looking for them. They went on vacation to Italy. Hey, you from England?" He said all at once.

          "Yeah. I am. And Italy? Really?" I scoffed. They are so lucky.

         "Yeah," he chuckled. "Leave it to them to put me to work while they go on vay-cay, right?"

          I laughed. And for some un fathomable reason, I couldn't seem to stop. The fact that Thomas had said vay-cay just made me collapse to the floor with laughter. Then, came the snorting. Oh god, please stop Vanilla. You're making a bloody fool of yourself in front of this very hot specimen.

        "Why thank you. I rarely get someone to walk in here and call me a 'hot specimen'." Thomas smirked.

         Bollocks. Bollocks very much. I said that aloud! I called him hot aloud! I blushed and looked to the floor. (He was quite handsome though.) His hair had silky-looking curls, and his dimples were absolutely heart shattering.

          "C-could I please have a cookie?" I asked timidly.

          "Look," he sighed. "I know I'm hot okay? You don't have to be embarrassed for telling me something I already know."

           I frowned, but when I looked up to see his face, the devil was giving me a cheeky little smile! "Just give me the cookie. Chocolate chip." I fumed.

          He gave me one off the shelf, all the while laughing at me. "Hey, I didn't get your na-"

          Ignoring him, I grabbed the cookie and stormed out. I walked with quick strides, furiously eyeing the cookie bag as if it was Thomas himself. Then, hunger came over me and I dug into the bag, finally caving in. I pulled out the cookie, but along with it, a small slip of custard paper flew out. It landed on the sidewalk, and blew a bit further away with the wind. My receipt! I was a bit obsessed with hoarding receipts, to say the least. I needed some sort of documentation for even the smallest of purchases. I ran after the piece of paper, which fluttered in the wind. Finally, I caught up to it. I bent over and flipped it over. Scribbled on there were numbers. And not the kind that told you the price of items. The bloody git gave me his telephone number.

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Hello, whoever is reading this. Just a heads up, I am not capable of writing long heartfelt chapters, like seriously... It's a major problem. But I just kind of brush it off for now, and try stick to the short stories instead.

     Trying to widen my chapters,
            Yours truly,
                Ballisticmarveller