Bubblegum Boy

[three] Thursday, September 26

[3] Thursday, September 26

The third time I see Bubblegum Boy (Derek or not, he's still Bubblegum Boy to me) I'm working the register. An orange Tic-Tac crackles against my teeth and I swallow just as he appears from out of a card aisle, tapping at a phone and swerving around a family, shopping basket in hand. Without looking, he sets the basket on the belt and continues typing. He glances at me ("No bag, please."), back at his phone, then back up at me. The smirk I've gotten to know so well after just two meetings blooms on his face and he slips the phone away.

"You work here Thursdays, then?" I glare at him and a bit too aggressively scan the manicure set and birthday card. I shove it into a plastic bag and he watches with now-narrowed eyes. "Hey, Bean Girl, I said no bag."

"Exactly," I make big eyes at him and he sighs, rolling his eyes. "Where's Daniel?" I ask, looking around. Bubblegum Boy hands me a debit card and I slide it, letting him sign on the touchpad. He raises the phone up so I can see it and shakes it.

"Home. I was just talking to him."

"He has a phone?" I raise an eyebrow, printing out the receipt at the same time.

"Dad's. It's my mom's birthday and he was telling me what to get her, which is really useless since I already got her the stuff," he explains with a small smile. Oh, well, aw. He liked his younger brother. Look at that. "Oh, shit, I forgot to get the cake." He grabs the bag with furrowed eyebrows and then suddenly his head snaps up. My eyebrows rise. "Hey, you're working here for the money, right?"

"Yeah..." I scratch my head unsurely.

"Do you want twenty bucks just for driving, like, twenty minutes? A dollar a minute, eh?" he asks with hopeful eyes and I narrow my eyes suspiciously.

"What are you saying?"

"Could you pick up my mom's cake from the café nearby? I know someone there and they said they would make a cake for it. Chocolate Moon, you know it?"

"I, uh..."

"I'll even raise it to twenty-five, here. Please," he begs and I grin.

"Forty."

"Twenty-five."

"Forty."

"Twenty-six."

"Forty."

"Thirty-eight."

"Done."

He lets out an audible sigh and shoots me a grateful smile.

"Thanks. So, here's my address and number," he writes something down on a pad of paper next to the register. "And you need to get it here by seven tonight." Then, grabbing his bags, he makes for the exit.

"I get off at eight, though!" I call after him and he sends a smirk my way.

"Thirty-eight dollars awaits you. Go, Bean Girl, go!"

A/N:

Yaaaay, part three up :D

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-Nova.