I'll Meet You There

Chapter 3

I cried myself to sleep, slept all day, and only got up to go to work, again, working the night shift.

Frustrated, I clock in.

Everyone that worked last night works again tonight.

I'm miserable.

Everyone treats me the same, and I folded shirts all night again.

It's around 9:15 and nobody is in the store.

I make no move to join anybody with their fucking conversation.

I'm honestly quiet angry.

I mean, Liam treated me horribly.

Like, grow the fuck up.

I won.

Get over it.

I don't like Americans.

Somebody loudly clears their throat.

I look up.

Liam.

I sigh.

"That pile is messed up." He points to one I just fixed.

There's nobody in here, meaning he messed it up.

I'm so mad.

"You should fix it then." I say coldly.

"It's not my section." He smirks.

"I quit." I say, shaking my head.

"Wait, what?" he asks.

"I. Quit."

I walk out of t-shirts.

"Wait." Lane says. "Abigail, wait. Just give it a week. If it doesn't get better, I have a plan. Just one week. We could use an Australian around here."

"I don't want to give it a week. Not with him." I shake my head.

"Just one week. I promise you won't regret it. Liam, fix those shirts. You shouldn't have messed with them in the first place."

"No. This is her fucking section."

"Fuck it. I'm leaving. I've never in my life hated somebody as much as I hate him. I don't want to spend one single solitary second with him."

"Please." Lane says.

Liam rolls his eyes and starts fixing the shirts.

I grit my teeth.

"One week." I say. "After that, I'm quitting."

<><>

"Do you work today?" Dad asks over lunch. Me and him and Mom and my little sister, Isabelle are sitting at the table.

"Sadly." I mutter.

"Abigail, you've been there two days. Why do you dislike it so much?"

"It's almost intolerable, Dad. There's this guy and he's so discourteous. I tried to quit last night but my manager begged me to stay for one week."

"Honestly..." Mom hesitates. "I would stay. Tough it out. I bet you'll end up marrying that guy anyways."

"No." I shake my head. "He called me a bitch because I won a bet we made."

"I bet there's a reason." Dad says. "I'm telling you, tough it out."

I sigh quietly. "Alright. I'll try."