As Isaac stood outside the door, he took a deep breath and counted to ten. Not feeling any calmer, he repeated the action. He pushed his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose and sneakily peeked through the door.
Yes, she was in there, as always. She leaned against the counter, Slushie in hand, waiting for him. Not him, he reminded himself, just whoever the next customer may be. Anyway, it didn't matter who she was waiting for. The point was, she was waiting and he would be there to end that wait.
He slowly opened the door and took another step. She looked up and gave him a tiny half-smile. He approached the counter, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. Nervously, he rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans.
He glanced around anxiously, trying to find something, anything, that would constitute as an excuse to talk to her. He didn't care what. His eyes fell on the pack of Marlboro Reds in her front pocket.
"Yeah, gimme a pack of Marlboros. Reds, please. Hard case." He put a hand in his pocket and gave her what Zac called "the lazy grin", guarenteed to charm any woman.
She placed the pack in his hand, barely brushing his fingers, and pulled her hand back immediately. She mumbled something and stared at the register with empty eyes.
"Excuse me?" Isaac tilted his head to hear better.
She repeated it a little louder. "I said, they're on the house. As thanks for last night. For making them be quiet. I think it hurt you more than it was worth, though."
He touched his bruise. "No, no, it didn't hurt much." He excused the lie by telling himself that it would only make her feel guilty. "What they were saying, it wasn't right. I let it go a couple of times, but it just looked like it was really upsetting you. I had to say something." Seconds ticked by in the silence.
"By the way, I'm Isaac. Isaac Ha-I mean, Clarke. Isaac Clarke." He mentally slapped himself for almost telling her who he really was. That would be plain stupid. "And you are?" He waited anxiously for the name that he knew would mean so much to him.
"Julie Gray," she said softly. And his perfect world collapsed.
Julie Gray? What kind of a name was Julie Gray? He had expected something beautiful and exotic, but instead he got Julie Gray. His hopes came crashing to the ground. Suddenly, she meant nothing to him and he didn't know why. It had to be the name.
"Nice to meet you, Julie." It came out automatically, and it sounded that way too. Automatic, mechanical, even cold.
His far away fantasy, the one that had bloomed in the night, no longer existed. He shook his head in disappointment as he politely said goodbye and left, still pondering what had went wrong.
