Ocean Blue ✓

chapter seventeen

elliot

The Cumm-n-Gitt's parking lot is even busier than it was yesterday. Like, busy to the point where kids are literally waiting to get gas because there aren't enough parking spaces, so they might as well get gas now and run in to pay for it. This. This is the level of Cumm-n-Gitt crazy. Hulhazy Front may be fairly small, but the devotion to a tradition that feels as old as time itself is real.

"This place is pretty busy," Alyssa says, stepping out of the Camry. We had to park along the thin street, admittedly closer than I would usually manage after work. It's only about half-past four, but tons of summer shifts out here get out at this same time to the point where a plethora of teenagers have come to fraternize about the well-stocked shelves of our very own safe-haven.

Our shoes crunch over gravel as we walk towards the front doors. Loitering teens mill around the front doors, whilst a few mega-super-hip college students sit on the curb and smoke. I stare at Alyssa's flimsy flip-flops as we walk by; she's obviously pretty unstable over the gravel, which is why I will always, always advocate sneakers. They're the best.

We walk through the clouds of smoke, and I try to ignore her brushing up against my side for the briefest of seconds. I have on an old swim tournament crewneck (Duncan always says I dress like I don't know how to homeostasis), and I can't help but wonder how it feels for Alyssa, with her bare skin brushing up against me and my stupidly starchy fabric.

"This isn't actually as bad as it gets sometimes," I tell her. "You should see it an hour or two from now, when it finally sinks in that it's actually summer. It gets really bad. There are usually little parties and stuff all around here, and people come to stock up beforehand. It's like all the adventurer's guilds. They need all the potions and mana and weapons and crap."

"You are surprisingly dorky," Alyssa says.

"Oh?" We walk in through the non-automatic doors, held open by some sophomores I vaguely recognise from the gymnastics team, and the sensation of air conditioning so cold it's practically wet hitting the back of my neck makes me all too aware of the sudden wave of heat her words have sent surging through my body. "Is that a good thing?"

"A very good thing. I would have taken you for some dunder-head jock or something."

Oof. That one was kinda rude. "Thanks?"

"Sorry, that—that sounded kinda bitchy. Sorry." She smiles apologetically, then makes a point of swivelling her gaze about the room. "So, wow, this is the Cumm-n-Gitt, huh?"

"Yes," I say, glad for a change of topic. Dunder-head jock. "This is the Cumm-n-Gitt. Land of magic and kids who found out about DnD from Stranger Things and never looked any further."

I glance at the first checkout aisle, which has one of the owners, Enrique, cheerfully handing a bag to some probable-freshman, just learning their Cumm-n-Gitt heritage now. Enrique is pretty solid. I think his cuñada is one of Mom's friends. He's always been super nice to me. He somehow knows my name, and we're just very, very chill. Until last night with Norm, Enrique was my cashier of preference.

In the aisle next to him is Norm, the current cashier of preference. (I am easily swayed, evidently.) Last night, I talked to him a bit more after the girls from the team had left, and he told me that he was working here as much as he could before college, because he wants to work in business management—apparently, the Cumm-n-Gitt has a super nice brand and reputation. "Trader Joe's looks like stale poop in comparison," he'd insisted. "I'll email you a video on the brand and show you the differences!"

Also, Norm just likes it, apparently. Which I thought was weird, but okay.

I watch him for a moment as he helps two guys who are probably varsity swim by now. At least, based on the levels of desperation I was met with at the Front the other night. Norm is laughing with them about something, which is a little surprising. He has such socially awkward vibes, yet he's eliciting all this laughter?