"Skeeter brought his huge speakers, so tonight's party is gonna be sick."
"Mhmm."
"I think the women's soccer team is actually gonna come to this one! You're fuckin' missing out, man."
"Yeah, I bet."
A few of my old teammates– Bud, Dumpster, Shortstop, and Stitches, all befitting of their nicknames– had called me on video chat with beers in hand at three in the afternoon. I doodled spirals and rigid peaks on a post-it note as I listened to their plans for the first rugby house party of the semester, and the first I wouldn't be attending since freshman year.
"What's goin' on with you tonight, Techno?" asked Stitches, referring to me by my team-given nickname. "Got any wild plans? Or you just gonna sit at home and jack it?" Everyone on his side snickered.
I cleared my throat. "Honestly Stitches, I was going to do exactly that, but then my co-workers asked me out to the bar."
"How you gonna get in without an ID?" inquired Dumpster, who had been an ID-less rookie until I left school and he became the fortunate recipient of my fake.
"It's a shitty place, they don't give two fucks. Plus, my friend knows the bartenders," I explained.
"You're lucky you met chill people who work at a fucking hippie-ass food store," sniggered Bud. "What're your co-workers like, anyway? A bunch of cocks? Or you got any hot girls to look at?"
"Well, there's this one gorgeous girl who works the register next to mine..."
The guys started hollering and clapping. I felt put on the spot. "What's her name, bro?" demanded Bud as he leaned in toward the keyboard, gearing up to stalk social media. "I gotta check out if she's really hot or, like, a 'Techno's standards have lowered' kind of hot."
I hesitated before answering. "Lynette something... Clifton, I think."
They looked her up. Stitches whistled. Shortstop stared in awe. Bud and Dumpster were practically salivating. "Fuck, man," said Stitches. "You get with that yet?"
Before that moment, I was truly going to tell them she wasn't interested in the genitalia I had to offer; but when I stared at their eager eyes sitting hundreds of miles away, I remembered the mornings we high-fived in the dining hall for achieving sexual conquests and I considered how quickly I would become irrelevant if I didn't answer correctly.
"Yeah," I said. My voice didn't waver as I spoke. "Yeah, I made out with her at a party."
Their frenzied ovation made my pride swell and my stomach sink.
•
Similar to the town in which it resides, Vita-Mart is small. Like, really small. Imagine three checkout lanes packed like sardines at the front of a tin can full of organic fruits and detox teas and all things healthy. Because it's so teeny-tiny, though, the essential oil aisle– which has lavender, eucalyptus, and soothing smells like that– wafts toward the registers, which is a plus.
Not a plus: There's not a lot of people on shift, and the ability to build a posse of co-workers is limited. I capped out at Lynette, Ezra, and the third register person who's only called in when we get new stock mid-week and the town hippies flock to the Mart like starving pigeons. Pretty sure this cashier's name is Denise or Louise or something. One time when she came in, the rush died down quickly and she spent the rest of her shift reciting the entire plot of Game of Thrones to me.
On the night I'd been summoned to Rock Bottom, I arrived fashionably late– "fashionably" meaning almost two hours after ten– but the only people at the bar were some old guys wearing trucker hats. Hoping I hadn't missed the fun, I texted Lynette.
YOU ARE READING
Broken Carts ✔️
Romance(M/M, COMPLETE) After Milo is forced to drop out and work at his hometown grocery store, his jaded coworker becomes interested in him. Together, they lose themselves in the beginnings of their alcohol-soaked downward spiral.
