Marked Secrets

12

JP

Amelia stared back at me with a wild look in her eyes, waiting for a reaction to her words. My throat hitched with a twisted mix of anxiety and excitement, and I was left speechless. Licking my lips to wet them, I pondered the possibilities of what could be done illegally with two cans of paint, and a beautiful girl with a dream.

"Let's do this," I said, following Amelia as she spun around on her heels and turned the corner where the market was.

"Your turn to go inside, give me the backpack," Amelia instructed, and I did exactly as I was told. "The gloves should be in the pharmacy section."

"Should I pick up any other latex item while I'm in there?" I badgered, a cynical laugh escaping from my chest.

Amelia giggled like a grammar school girl, quickly throwing her hand over her mouth to shield her slip up.

"Alright, I'll grab four boxes," I said, winking and disappearing inside the market before Amelia could protest.

We haven't even kissed yet, I reminded myself. There was an order that needed to be followed, and so far all we did was hold hands and hug. That didn't even classify as first base, though it was not to say I was a stranger to home runs in the past. The one thing I understood though, was that in this particular game I was riding the bench.

How sad.

Wandering around the store I bit, I shook my head at Amelia to myself silently for making me travel in there alone. I just moved in, I was still new and barely knew my way around the grocery store. Finally spotting a sign that read the word pharmacy on it, I was certain that I was headed in the right direction.

Picking an aisle to start, I paced down it and eyed all of the shelves. Medications, no. Heating pads, no. Pregnancy tests, hell no. After minutes of searching, I finally stumbled across the gloves. Grabbing hold of the smallest pack of blue toned gloves they sold, I headed for the registers before anyone suspected I was committing a murder.

It's not like there were many people at the market at eleven o clock at night, it's just that I was paranoid. When I reached the register, the girl working it offered me a bright smile. I smiled back politely, and she raised an eyebrow at the single pair of gloves I placed on the conveyer belt. She rang it up anyways, clearing her throat.

"What's a cute guy like you doing out alone this late at night buying gloves?" she remarked, fluttering her clearly fake eyelashes at me.

"Uh," I coughed uneasily. "I dunno."

Pulling my wallet from my pocket, I abruptly swiped my card and avoided eye contact with the girl who was clearly checking me out from head to toe. She printed out my receipt, dragging things out so she had more time to gawk at me.

What was she even looking at? It was just me. Nothing special.

"Receipt with you or in the bag?" she asked in a low voice, as if we were sharing our deepest darkest secrets.

"Bag is fine," I replied shortly, damn near yanking it out of her hand and hurrying out of the market.

I already knew what I wanted, and it wasn't her.