-In which Mephisto does the grocery shopping and gets more than he wants -
His appearance was flawless.
The nineteen-year-old had caused more than enough unnecessary attention from a variety of women, all of them following the maroon locked man with their eyes as he perused the vegetable aisle in complete and utter oblivious bliss.
It seemed that wherever he went, there was a fan club that followed close behind, examining his every move no matter how simple it may have been.
The silver band that caressed his finger glinted innocently under the overhead lights, a subtle reminder that he was already taken, a woman bound to him as much as he was bound to her.
Disappointment soon followed once realization sunk in.
It really shouldn't have been a surprise; a man like that should be married, what with his gorgeously dark locks that fell in front of perfectly dazzling green eyes.
And if that wasn't enough to grab the attention of the greater population of women, then his body certainly would be.
How a nineteen-year-old could be so well-built was beyond anyone's comprehension, his green, "It's ok. I'd be jealous of me too," shirt hugging his frame exceptionally and matching his leather sneakers to a tee. His grey stonewashed jeans practically forced girls to ogle his behind, giggling when he would bend over, revealing a sliver of perfect skin wedged between green and denim fabrics. And of course when the weather got cold enough, he would break out the leather jackets pushed to the back of the closet earlier in the year, a wedge of jealousy emerging from the male population in the process.
And despite the fact that he would act like a child when he pushed the grocery cart, or refused to ever let anyone get anything for him from the top shelf because he would find a way to do it better, he was still greatly sought after.
"Could you tell me where I can find the milk?" a brunette asked him, her friends giggling away at a safe distance.
"In the dairy," he responded, not bothering to look at the girl as he continued to scan the ingredient list of a box of granola bars, careful to avoid cashews for a certain someone.
"Could you take me there?" she queried, inching closer to the boy with the unique hair color.
"Aisle twelve. Can't miss it," he replied with very little enthusiasm, if any.
"What if I get lost?" she asked, pooching out her bottom lip in a ridiculous attempt at a pout.
"There's no way you'll get lost if you use your eyeballs," he told her, finally looking into her eyes with a bored expression evident in his own deep green pools.
The girl's breathe caught at the sight of his olive eyes, a deep shade she could get lost in if she allowed herself to.
"Now if you'll excuse me, these things won't buy themselves," he said dryly, pushing the cart as quickly as he could towards the next aisle over.
The girl shook her head, breaking herself out of the trance that she had just been in.
"Hey wait!" she called, rounding the corner and rushing towards him.
He cringed at the sound of the flirty girl's voice, muttering and exasperated "Great," under his breath.
"Her's my number! Perhaps you could call me sometime?" she said hopefully, holding out a yellow sticky note to him.
He stared at the girl blankly, blinking his olive eyes twice before she slightly shook the paper.
He let out an irritated sigh, rolling his eyes as he took the paper, indulging the girl and causing her brown eyes to grow large, a ridiculous smile spreading across her face.
He offered her a clearly-fake-beyond-anything-else smile before he allowed it to drop into a frown.
The girl squealed and ran off as soon as he had dismissed her with a hand gesture that said, "Shoo!".
He rolled his eyes again as he heard the group of girl break into fits of giggling and screaming. He snapped his fingers and disappeared in a green smoke.
He reappeared shortly thereafter in a secluded aisle of men's clothes, grabbing a pair of jeans off the rack as he passed.
He arrived in the checkout aisle, reading a pop idol magazine that featured an article highlighting the members of a certain singing trio of girls.
He offered the cashier an infectious smile which she helplessly grew flustered under, watching him with bated breath as he exited the store, his clothes leaving little to the imagination in just how well they fit him.
A flash of green later, he stood in his home, several plastic bags adorning each arm that he carefully placed on the countertops.
As he put away the cereal on the top shelf, he heard the front door open, practically able to feel a pair of eyes ogling the strip of skin visible between his shirt and jeans; not that he minded.
In fact, this was the one girl who he wanted to admire him in such away.
He turned around and smiled warmly at the woman standing before him.
He pulled her into a warm embrace, sighing happily at the feel of her in his arms.
While a thousand girls had their eyes on him, drooling at the sight of such a handsome man, he only had eyes for one woman.
And she was in his arms.