Of Being Brave.

Time to dive head first into the cask again. A appointment later in the evening is calling for something of the red verity. Before it gets too late I stop by the local liquor store to obtain a bottle.

While Searching the racks upon racks of merlots and the Shiraz, I hear from the register near the front of the store a question. A simple can I help you find anything sort of question. I look up to give the generic no thank you quick response and small head shake. It only took a moment but I locked eyes with her, completely prepared to submit my answer.

The problem was locking eyes with her. A pair of the bluest eyes peering right at me. Almost right through me. I stammered out something weak. I lost all train of thought. Formulating a sentence in my head, I take my time just to take in as much of this person as I possible can. Her blondish hair cascading down to her exposed shoulders. Seeing as she was wearing a pink tank top, I could see her clavicle and where it intersected her neck line. Tiny freckles are misplaced around her cheek bones.

She must have caught on to what I was thinking because she smiled at me. Red handed. She knew what was running through my head I bet. What a fool I must look like.

Snatching up a random bottle of yellow tail, I make my way to counter. Not even bothering to look at what I actually picked up, I didn't really care at this point. Pulling my self together, I muster up my manly confidence. Why not? What's a boy got to lose?

I ask her if I can be frank with her, to which she smoothly responded with: you sure can sir. I tell her that she has the most amazingly beautiful blue eyes this young man has ever seen. I tell her that she took my breath away almost the moment I set eyes on her. I compliment her choice in style and ask what a pretty girl such as herself is doing in a place like this. All the general lines, nothing to creepy, however, altogether honest.

She tells me that shes only here for the summer visiting family, and she needed some spending cash. She then tells me I must be a brave boy for being a forward as I am. Then she kindly thanks me for all the compliments. I blush for the first time sense I can't remember when.

I apologize to her if I seem strange, but I had to let her know these things. As she rings me up and prints my receipt, she smiles again and laughs. She quickly flips the paper transaction over and jots something down. Another custom enters through door and asks for some help in collections room. She hands me my receipt, her finger rubs mine just a bit longer than unintentional contact. Leaving to attend to the other man, I unfold the message to see what she has scribbled.

The message is short. The message is direct. A telephone number and a sentence that reads: The store closes at 11, call me.....