60. Lolly #2
I tentatively step inside and take in my surroundings.
The fluorescent lights make my skin itch.
Shelves lined with more products than anyone could possibly need adorn the walls and center of the space.
I’d rather eat glass than inventory this motherfucker.
Their ordering system is probably complex as fuck, but maybe there’s a marketable need for improvement? Noted.
I finally find the aisle with the briefs my mom prefers and grab two huge packs before lugging them up to the counter.
I set them both down and search the back for any signs of life.
I spot a separate area that’s visibly alight with a warm glow.
At least the pharmacy staff isn’t subjected to these obnoxious lights for hours on end.
I clear my throat, unable to bring myself to ring the tabletop bell.
I’ve had enough bell-ringing for one evening.
I look up when I catch movement out of my periphery, a tall figure appearing from the back of the store.
“Oh, sorry,” a soft male voice answers. “I didn’t hear the door,” he says as he makes his way to the counter.
The sides of my mouth twitch as he comes into full view.
Holy fuck. It’s him.
Bright green eyes and high cheekbones, skin the softest shade of ivory—still stunning. My heart squeezes inside my chest. A celebratory ache of sorts.
He’s different now—face masculine but not too sharp.
A youthful design that’s only accentuated by that smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks.
His brown hair is still a mop of loose curls that fall atop his forehead.
He looks at me through heavy lids, holding my gaze for only a split second before his cheeks redden and he looks down at his feet.
“No worries,” I say, a smile slipping through despite my best efforts. “I just need some supplies and to pick up my mom’s prescription,” I continue, quietly willing him to look at me once more. A silent prayer to the universe.
“Oh, okay,” he replies anxiously, his voice pitching up.
I can’t hide my smirk after that, quickly conceding to having lost that battle.
He’s still perfectly adorable. So visibly uncomfortable that it makes my dick twitch in my fucking jeans. Thank fuck I didn’t wear the fitted pair. I’d be in a world of hurt.
Slow down killer, he’s probably got one and a half kids and a wife.
“I, um, I just need your mom’s name and date of birth,” he says, finally bringing his gaze to meet my own.
God, he is beautiful.
Memories claw their way into the forefront of my mind. A blur of green eyes and soft lips. College nights driven by alcohol and unapologetic youth. Tears and funerals and moonlit cemeteries. Stolen kisses and broken hearts.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Lolly, get what you need and get the fuck out of here before you drool on the countertop.
I quickly inventory the past few weeks, suddenly desperate to figure out the last time I got off.
Is that the issue?
Nope.
Last week. Mr. Neck Tattoo from the club. Too recent.
It’s just him.
I give him the information he requested, wondering if he recognizes me. I cut my hair and added a few piercings, but certainly don’t look different enough for there to be any confusion.
He excuses himself with an awkward nod of his head and then walks toward the back where files of filled prescriptions are stored in bins arranged by alphabetical order.
It seems to take him a second to remember where in the alphabet the letter R might be.
That’s cute, he’s flustered and I love it.
He stands there a few beats too long before he huffs a laugh and grabs the only bag in that particular bin, spinning on his heels to face me again, cheeks even more flushed than they’d been just moments ago.
I grin, knowing good and goddamn well that I’m making him uncomfortable. I’m loving every second of his misery, soaking it up like the sun on a warm spring day.
My dick follows suit, quickly standing at attention as I watch his pretty hands and long lithe fingers strike the keys of the computer keyboard.
He darts his tongue out across his bottom lip absentmindedly and that’s it—game over.
My gaze stays on his lips. So perfect that I can’t help but picture them wrapped around me, him gazing up at me through those dark lashes.
It’s a damn shame things ended before I was finished with him
My dick throbs and I wince.
There’s no way he is oblivious to what he’s doing to me. No fucking way.
I nonchalantly readjust my pants, making sure my hard-on is eastbound, hidden under the waist band of my boxer briefs and not pointing right at him.
“Um, are those yours as well?” he questions, gesturing toward the packages of briefs.
“Yeah,” I answer. “I mean, they’re mine but they’re not for me,” I say, now feeling my own cheeks heat.
What the fuck?
I don’t get embarrassed.
Ever.
Christ, he is going to be the death of me.
Again.
“Oh, I didn’t think they were for you, I just wanted to make sure you were purchasing them. Sorry for the confusion.” He peers up at me as if he is somehow searching for an acceptance of his unspoken apology.
“I’m just giving you a hard time. Relax,” I reply and then wink. Why the fuck did I wink at him?
No idea.
Can’t take it back now.
This time he laughs. A genuine soul-deep laugh that shoots straight to my dick, warming my entire body in seconds.
Hell, this is ridiculous, I have to get the fuck out of here before I say or do something stupid.
He’s the only motherfucker on this planet that has this kind of power over me. Some green-eyed voodoo shit.
I hand him my credit card and lean back, crossing my arms as I watch him work.
That lab coat is doing something to me.
So fucking professional.
My green eyes is all grown up.
A strange sense of pride fills my chest at the realization. He made it through the darkness and came out the other side in one piece.
He doesn’t fumble the credit card machine like I had hoped, but he does blush again when I purposely brush my fingers over his as he hands my card back to me.
“Thanks,” I say, still holding his gaze. I smile a small, knowing smile. Lowering my gaze from his eyes to his lips again, unable to stop myself.
“You’re, um, you’re welcome,” he stammers, a small, polite smile on his face.
A calm sense of certainty washes over me. It’s a balmy sensation, tickling the flesh on the back of my neck. I’m not going to let this be another insignificant memory.
Regrets are for old chapters, their pages worn and fragile. This one? This fucking chapter is brand new. That crisp new book smell arising from our unwritten story. I lean back slowly, cross my arms over my chest, bags in hand, and just watch.
I watch as he fidgets with his hands, grabbing the bottom of his white coat then looking at the floor, then back at me, then back to the floor.
My god, he is frazzled. He’s unraveling right in front of me, and I revel in his chaos, already craving more of it.
More of this.
More of him.
“Do you not remember me?” I ask him, knowing my eyes are giving me away even though I carefully position my body to a stance of utter indifference, arms crossed, shoulders relaxed.
“Lolly,” he blushes. “Sorry, I mean Oliver.”
“You can call me Lolly,” I say, my tone suddenly breathless and deeper than it had been just moments ago.
Fascinating. My own larynx is betraying me for freckles and a white coat.
“It’s been a while,” he blushes, fisting his hands at his sides in the cutest fight for a semblance of normalcy that I have ever witnessed. “You, um. You look great.”
Is that so?
“You do, too,” I reply.
“Well, this has been a pleasant surprise,” I confess, unfolding my arms and leaning toward him, resting both hands on the countertop.
He swallows thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
I smile brazenly and continue, “I hope you have a good evening, and I’ll be looking forward to seeing you again, green eyes,” I finish before slowly turning around and exiting the small business.
A maniacal smile spreads across my face as a firm resolution settles in my heart.
Oh, tonight is only the beginning.
I feel lighter as I make my way back to my vehicle, a strange sense of rightness softly rests in my chest.