What happens when a finger painting prodigy hitches a ride from a disfigured biker? Why chaos of course!
Quirky, oddball Georgie is anything but normal. For years she hasn't only suffered from a lack of filter but she also has "episodes." She can't...
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ALABAMA
Time is crucial right now and yet here I am trying to decide between mint or peanut butter Oreos. The struggle is real. My arms are cramping from holding all my different assortment of snacks. The bell dings above the door and a very solid, sturdy man with sunglasses on slides by me. I can't help noting how much taller he is then me as the smell of leather and citrus waft over me.
Mhm. Smells good.
A deep chuckle makes me hit my forehead against the pile of snacks I'm holding. Someday I will get a hold of this foot in mouth disease. Anyways, focus Georgie! This is a serious problem here! You have to make a decision. I'm the type that can't stop eating, especially food I can munch on because...
I am the munchie monster...
Yes, I said that in a monster voice.
I try to balance all the snacks in an attempt to grab my choice of Oreo. One of my blond spirals falls in front of my face. I try blowing it over as my overall strap slips off my shoulder. My finger touches the shiny blue plastic but the Oreos fall. Now I have to reach for the next one, which is pretty far back.
I continue to attempt the impossible.
A big, strong hand comes around me and grabs the peanut butter Oreo. I look up, making sure not to drop my snacks. It's the same guy from earlier.
"Do you need some help there, Miss Munchie Monster?"
Crap he heard me.
Wait? How did I not hear him?
And woah mama!
He's the kind of handsome where you have to stop and do a double take, maybe triple, heck maybe several! Or be like me and just stare like a creeper. He's definitely older than me, probably by ten years. His hair is a perfectly messy comb-over that's obviously been created by the wind and is the color of old rusted brass. All the guy does is cock a bold brow and smirk along with it.
Clearly, he's used to this kind of reaction. And here I am in very unflattering overalls that are a little too tight and a white t-shirt with paint splatter all over it. My spiral white-blonde hair is so frizzy it could run this gas station's electricity for months. Also, there's that itch from the dry paint on my cheeks, nose, and certain parts of my forehead.
He holds the peanut butter Oreos and tilts his head toward the cashier. "Can I lighten your load for you?" If it wasn't for those words, and that savory pour-all-over-me southern drawl... I'd still be staring.
"Um, yes, yes, thank you," I sputter out like a moron.
He starts taking some of my snacks and brings it over to the register for me. He's very neat as he places some of my stuff on the counter, which I ruin the moment I dump the rest of my snacks. My arms sigh in the relief and I finally tuck that annoying spiral away.
