aisle five » hemmings a.u.

one

She had her bright headlights on and the music blasting because it was just one of those nights.

An unknown Katy Perry song was playing and she sang along even though she didn't know the words. All she was worried about was getting to the pharmacy and getting home before her mum had a mental breakdown. She'd done it again; dyed her hair an unruly colour and didn't like it, so she made her daughter go out and fetch another. It was almost a weekly event amongst the family.

So as she belted out the lyrics of the song she didn't know, her bright headlights were on so that she could keep herself awake and see through the pitch blackness of eleven forty-five at night. It was a hot summer day in Australia and she was dressed rather lightly in pajamas, a loose t-shirt with the sleeves folded, plaid shorts, and some old Converse sneakers.

Biting her lip in concentration just as she pulled into the parking lot, she found herself a spot right in front next to a sleek black car that must've costed more than herself. She tucked a piece of her long dark ombre hair behind her ear and licked her lips, climbing out of her truck. She was almost taken aback by the heat.

The only reason she did the pharmacy run for her mum as opposed to her sister Nicole doing it was because she used the extra money to buy candy. Mum didn't really appreciate that too much but that was the price she had to pay for her going out.

Emma entered the building while clutching her phone in one hand and the money in the other, whistling the Katy Perry song. After a curt nod toward the boy with white headphones on his head, working at the counter, who didn't even notice her entry, she made her way to the candy section. Candy first, hair dye second. The way of life.

After grabbing about three of the big bags of Starbursts, she made her round to aisle five, where the hair dye was kept. It was getting late and she wasn't sure when the pharmacy closed, but if she hurried, she was sure she could make it in time without getting yelled at by the current working employees here.

She pulled out her phone, opening up her texts to see the colour her mother wanted. It was some shade of horrid blond that Emma knew wouldn't look good on her mother. She just didn't know the brand or shade.

As far as she could tell, there were no other living souls in the pharmacy with her. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked for the colour, but it seemed like it was hiding. At that moment, a boy about Emma's age stood in aisle five as well. She didn't look up, only dropped to her knees and looked on the bottom shelf for the stupid blond she couldn't find. It was when the character cleared his throat that she peeked over at him.

And she began laughing.

Emma laughed so hard, she felt like she was going to cry. She tipped her head back as she developed into chortles, giggling softly. The boy's hair was a horrid shade of purple, making him look like Barney had a siezure on his head. She covered her mouth when he looked at her with a scowl.

"Who did that to your hair?" she blurted before she could stop herself. From all of the lessons her mother'd given her, that was not a normal hair colour and no one, not even this majorly attractive boy with the blue eyes.

He shook his head. "It's not funny," the boy spat, taking in her lazy apparel. He liked her look and he thought she was damn hot. "My friends did it as a prank."

She just kept laughing and laughing, not being able to keep it to herself. She knew what she was doing was rude, but come on, the guy looked so bad! Her eyes averted themselves back to the shelves of hair dye. At last, she found the brand she needed, but she couldn't seem to find the colour now.

He eyed her Starbursts. "Are you addicted to candy? I mean, who buys that many bags of Starbursts at once," he argued. His rebuttel was lame, but at least he didn't draw a blank.

The smile dropped off her face. "Don't talk about my candy habits," Emma bit. "Barney."

"Barney?" he reiterated. "Wow, so original, Willy Wonka." He almost grimaced at his comeback; he was really off his game that night. Emma stood up, crossing her arms over her chest. It was just one of those nights that she was feeling extra grumbly and wasn't a force to be reckoned with.

Her voice was casual. "At least I don't look like Justin Bieber had an orgasm on my head," she pursued, but she felt that that had gone in a weird direction. She almost feared that this boy wouldn't know that Bieber's favourite colour was purple.

"Alright, Candyman, you need to be quiet," he hissed, stepping closer to the hot girl. "I'm telling you, my friends dyed my hair as a prank and I'm here to get some blond for my hair."

She bit her lip in amusement. "And I'm saying that I think you look stupid," Emma replied, a smirk on her face. The boy's fists balled at his sides. "Are you getting angry, Raven?"

"Raven?" he looked down at her - they had a significant height difference - in confusion.

Emma stared blankly back. "Yes, Raven. From Teen Titans? Did you not watch it as a child?" she asked, looking at him like he was dumb.

The boy was about to respond, his mouth was open, ready to bite back with a snarky remark, when the lights went off. He tensed, stepping even closer to the girl. Whimpering in fright, she threw her arms around him. They stayed silent, just listening. The only sound was some jingling of keys, and then the doors closing. Still not moving, they heard a car door outside open, then close, and then an engine roar.

A minute passed and Emma was still bundled in this stranger with purple hair's arms. That was when she realized how awkward that was, and jumped away from him. She whipped out her phone and unlocked it, shining it around the pitch black store.

"Oh my god," the boy mumbled.

Emma swallowed. "What?" She didn't want to hear the answer; she already knew. The two of them had been so busy bickering that they didn't hear the announcement that the store would be closing in five minutes, they didn't hear the guy at the register ask if anyone was in the building, and they didn't notice him locking everything up.

"We're locked in."