I had been heavily thinking; which was usually a sign of bad decisions to come. The extent of how bad my current decision would be was still, however, yet to be determined. My mother often told me that when I started thinking –especially in regards on how to act with women– I should take a deep breath, slow down, and go ask someone why my decision was a terrible one. How I wish I had taken that little piece of insightful advice before I had gone back to Mountain Adventure Sports.
See, all was well at first. I walked in confidently, had a stroll about the store and found a pair of hiking boots that I liked. I had even forgotten about what I was really there for. But low and behold, the universe was determined to give me plenty of opportunities for me to make a fool of myself, so of course I had to be revisited with a pair of enigmatic, brown diamond eyes.
“Hello, do you-“she paused as soon as I spun around to face her. I could see the surprise, then recognition and finally mischief play across her features; Zara was not going to make this easy for me. “It’s you.”
I smiled. She wasn’t going to even pretend like last time hadn’t happened to save me even a little bit of dignity. “Yes, it is me.”
“How can I help you today?” She asked, leaning against one of the footwear floor fixtures. Today her braids were half down, falling like a waterfall across her shoulders and down her back. God, she made even jeans and t-shirts look like the sexiest invention of mankind. “Well…?”
“Oh, yes, I would like try these on actually?” I said, holding out the boots to her. I was going to make this day hell for her. The best part was that I wasn’t even planning on buying anything.
Zara looked down at my feet, seeming to examine it for a brief moment. “Size 11?”
“Ummm, yes, actually,” I mumbled. How did she do that?
She gave me a short nod before disappearing into the back of the store. I noticed one of Zara’s coworkers was grinning at me. She was a lanky, awkward looking blonde with one too many pimples and a very disturbingly happy smile. I quickly looked away.
The last thing I needed was for her to follow me to my work to stalk me…
Zara walked back towards me holding a shoebox. I noticed her name tag was once again conveniently placed above her left breast. I smiled.
God, I am such a creep.
I tried on the shoes and told Zara I did not like them even though I did. She then tried to help me find a different pair I might like and I continued to find them all dissatisfactory. I could see the anger and irritation radiating off of her, although she maintained a calm, relaxed composure. I couldn’t fathom how she could exercise so much patience. Well, it wasn’t like the store was very busy anyways.
After what seemed to be about an hour, she stopped to listen carefully to what was being said on her headset. I was trying on what was probably my thirtieth pair of shoes so I was very suspicious and nervous when she looked at me with rainbows and sunshine dancing through her eyes.
“Excuse me,” was all she said before joyfully running to the back of the store. I sat, and waited, and after what seemed like ten minutes, the creepy blonde with the serial killer smile walked up to me.
“HI!” she shouted, at least that’s how it felt to my ears. It definitely wasn’t Zara’s soft and soothing sing-song voice.
“Hey?”
“Zara has left for the day, I’ll be helping you now,” she cooed. Cooed. That’s right, she cooed!
Oh hell no!
In one swift motion I was out of that store.
The plan had backfired; I hadn’t accounted for Zara eventually needing to leave the store.
I got into my car as quickly as I could. The last thing I needed was a repeat of Katja. I saw a figure that looked very similar to Zara’s walking through the parking lot. Naturally that meant I had to do the smartest thing I could think of; drive up to her then slowly drive alongside to her. She was so deep in thought she didn't notice I'd been driving alongside her for a few minutes waiting for a good opening to apologize.
When she noticed me in the car next to her she jumped, clutching on to her bag before regaining her composure. In hindsight, following her for a few minutes in my father's black van with darkly tinted windows was probably not a good idea.
“This is taking it too far.” She said coldly, not slowing down or speeding up her pace. “Are you seriously following me now?”
“Ummm – I –uhh-“
She stopped me mid stutter to look at me and exclaim “What is with you white guys?!”
Now I was taken aback. I stopped my car and got out so I could stand in front of her. “Excuse me?”
She threw her hands up in indignation. “Don’t you think following a young woman with your car after wasting her time for an hour at her work is a bit much?!”
She had a point there.
“Seriously?! Why can’t you old white guys leave me alone?!!” She screamed.
“I am not old!” I retaliated. “I am only 29! And what do you mean by old white guy?!”
She looked even more frustrated now. “OH MY GOD! IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW OLD YOU ARE; IF YOU’RE A CREEP YOU ARE STILL A CREEP!”
“I am not a creep!” I defended. This was ridiculous! All I did was follow her in my car… okay. She was right. I don’t know why I didn’t just apologize then and there and got out of there.
Zara inhaled sharply. “Listen dumbass,” she said, looking at me squarely in the eye and freezing me on the spot. “All I want is to have one day at work without some creepy old – or 29 year old – man or any man hitting on me, thinking they’re better than me, calling me something like ‘exotic African flower’ or ‘tasty chocolate’ or staring at my LEFT BREAST!” She spat bitterly. “Did you think I didn’t notice?! So please, just leave me alone! Don’t you ever follow me again!” She huffed.
Her body was shaking with anger. I had to do something to fix this horrible situation I had gotten myself into.
“Look,” I said sheepishly. “I am sorry. I was just trying to get back at you for embarrassing me in front of my friend the other day. But I was only going to waste two hours of your time max. I swear! But then I saw you leaving and I thought maybe I could apologize or something. I don’t know.”
She looked at me skeptically. Clearly she was not impressed.
I sighed, quickly thinking of my next brilliantly stupid move. I opened the car door wide and gestured towards it. “Can I give you a ride wherever you’re going?”
She gave me a look that said what I’d been hearing from women all my life; are you for real? Then Zara groaned in frustration, reaching across me and slammed my car door shut with impressive force. “Goodbye asshole!” She said with a piqued expression before walking away.
And this time I didn’t follow her.
I knew better.
YOU ARE READING
Love Her Madly
Romance"You are crazy," She said with a wicked grin. "Kiss me." "Why?" She murmured, stepping closer to me. Her voice was so low, so gentle it felt more like a caress than an actual sound. "Because, you hurt my feelings. Now you have to kiss it and make...
