6. Work
WORK
I’m half an hour into my shift when Olivia calls me away from the check-out station and to the back. Quinn called in sick, so now it’s my job to stock the shelves.
Five stacked trolleys are out the back and need restocking. I swallow the lump and then sigh at the two trolleys filled with bottled soft drinks.
Okay, Noya. Start by finishing the first trolley, then take it slow with the other three.
I push the first trolley from the back storage down the soft drink and bottled water aisle. As suspected, there’s a gaping hole where cola should be.
Taking hold of the first twenty-four-pack, a sharp pain rips through my right arm. A hiss of breath escapes through my clenched teeth, and with little fight, I rest the carton down beside my feet.
“Need help?” a soft voice says from behind. I whirl around to Conner as he smiles at me. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
He raises a packet of salt and vinegar chips and an energy drink.
My tight face pinched in surprise falters, and I mumble, “I doubt you came here for snacks.”
“I was hoping you were going to be at the checkout register, but,”—he sets his drink and bag of chips next to the three-pack of cola cans and takes hold of the carton at my feet—“you were heading to the back of the store. So, I waited for you to come out. Lucky that I did, or else you’d be stocking the shelves with a bad arm.
But you don’t have to do that now that I’m here. ”
“If my manager sees you—”
“Olivia, right?”
I pinch my brows together and nod.
“She’s best friends with my mum and calls me her nephew. I doubt she would care.”
How does he have an answer for everything?
“Well, I don’t need your help.” I reach for another carton of cola and pull it up when my arm feels like someone is slowly twisting the bone. My hands slacken, and I expect the carton to drop and for a few cans to burst, but Conner grabs hold before my arms completely slacken. “Thanks.”
“Do you need to stock another trolley?”
I look away from him.
“Bring that one out,” he continues.
“But…”
“Noya, let me help you.”
There it is again. That reckless determination I’m not used to seeing. So, without objecting, I head to the back of the store to grab another trolley filled with soft drinks.
I help the best I can by stocking the six-pack of soft drinks.
Olivia moves across the aisle, only to pause and drink everything in. She flutters her lashes behind her thick, circular glasses when Conner waves at her. It looks like she wants to enter the aisle, but Rachel comes through from the overhead speaker and calls Olivia back to the service desk.
After we stock all the soft drinks, Conner wheels the other trolley back with me. When we are out back, he places his beside mine. I then grab hold of another trolley, and Conner does the same.
My hands tighten around the handle, and before losing my nerve, I ask, “Why are you here?”
“Well, I’d like to convince you to let me offer you a ride home.”
“No. My mum is picking me up.”
Conner narrows his vision and furrows his brow. “I’d like to think that if it were true, you would’ve said it when I offered you a lift.” He arches his brow and leans closer to me as he says, “You’re lying to me.”
I bite my lip and glare at the stacks of chocolate on the trolley. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“I’ve already answered that. Why don’t you want me to be your friend? Is it an exclusive inside? Do I need to smoke pot for you to want me as a friend?”
“No,” I breathe a laugh.
Conner smiles.
But suddenly, the tidal wave rises over my head as the light flutter in my heart washes away. The water on the ground, and all those feelings and friendships suck in until the roaring of the massive wave crashes over the top of me.
I’m drowning in every reason I can’t let Conner get too close to me. It’s terrible enough that Andy knows about my living situation and how Dad treats me. I will hate it if another person is stuck in the nightmare I desperately want to escape.
“What are you afraid of?” he asks, voice closer than I expected.
I shake my head and push the trolley forward. “It’s nothing.”
“Noya,” he calls.
I tilt my head to the side and say, “You can drive me home tonight.”
I hope…I dearly hope that it’s enough for Conner not to keep pushing. Because what I’m most afraid of is hurting him.
The thought of Dad seeing me with a boy sends shivers up my spine. The idea of him being drunk, angry, and hurting me by placing someone’s life I put on the line sickens me.
I won’t let anyone else get hurt.