Emma needed to run down to the store to get sugar. How could she begin to bake without realizing she didn't have a basic ingredient like sugar. Ugh. She had been to the grocery store two days ago–not her favorite past time. Her job was already filled with enough people encounters; the last thing she needed was to be around more people, willingly. Baking became a hobby that helped her not think about her day; and she was determined to bake tonight. As she got ready to leave her apartment, she grumbled every bit of the way–from putting back on her boots, her red leather jacket, grabbing her keys and out the door. Emma stomped out her apartment and onto the pavement. The market was only five minutes away, but it was 5:00 p.m., everyone getting out of work would be there, in her way, bumping into her, crowding her...her aggravation grew. To add to her mood, the wind was blowing just enough to move her locks about every which way into her face.
She arrived at the market and, great, she forgot a bag. Guess she will be carrying the 5 pound bag of sugar home, close to her like a small infant, with a scowl on her face...she started to laugh at herself. She caught her reflection in the glass of the frozen food case. She was so worked up over coming here that she observed a comical grimace on her face, and her hair was a mess. She stopped to take a moment and fix her hair in the reflection, trying not to look like the mess that she felt like in the inside. As she did this, she noticed a figure walking her way. She ignored the person thinking they would just pass her by, but they started to slow down. Perhaps she was in the way of them grabbing what was in the case before her: frozen apple pies. Maybe she should just give in and get one of those for herself and call it a night. Emma glanced at the reflection of the person: it was a dark haired woman, about her height and she was facing her. Was she staring her down?
Emma stopped fixing her hair and turned to the woman, "Sorry, am I in your way?" Emma didn't really care if she sounded rude, but she changed her mind as soon as she saw her–this woman was gorgeous. She was overcome with sudden nervousness.
The woman observed her with a look of amusement for a moment, then answered, "No, not at all. I was just enjoying you, watching you fix your hair. You have a beautiful color of blonde."
The nervousness in Emma sunk to her stomach. Her voice was sexy and she felt like she got punched in the gut. But, wait, did she just get hit on? Emma stared back at her, not believing what she heard. Emma threw her hands into her back pockets. She wanted to reply back. She opened her mouth–but nothing came out. Her brain was doing flips, however, screaming over and over, "Wow. She's amazingly hot." Her hair was raven black, silky. Her chocolate brown eyes sucked Emma in. Her lips were full, covered with a shade of red that complimented her olive tone. And she was dressed in a power dyke grey suit. Before Emma knew what was happening, her legs took her past the woman. Emma panicked. Wow. She was thrown off. She headed for the baking aisle. She took a deep breath. She felt like a fool. She stood in the baking aisle for a while, pretending to make a careful decision regarding sugar, just so she could regain her composure. What was that all about? Did she really get hit on, or was she so consumed with her beauty that she made up a string of incomprehensible words? Emma looked a mess, there is no way, she had to have misunderstood. Yup, that is it. Doesn't matter, she will grab her sugar, pay for it and go and this whole incident will be behind her. Emma grabbed a 5 pound bag of sugar, walked down the aisle, rounded the corner, and saw the woman heading toward her. Emma panicked again, turned, and was about to duck down the same aisle, but thought that looked stupid, so she walked to the next aisle, and ducked in. Ok, what do we have here? She quickly observed, its the cereal aisle. She supposed she needed cereal, let's start shopping for cereal. Or, she could just walk down the aisle and leave. She heard heels heading her way. She froze. Act natural. Start looking at cereal. She grabbed a box, looking at the contents intensely.
The woman's footsteps came closer, and closer, and stopped. Again, right next to her. "All that sugar will rot your teeth you know."
Emma realized then that she was holding a box of fruit loops. "This isn't typically my brand," Emma managed to blurt out, something she hoped sounded like intelligible words.
She turned to look at the woman, now holding a frozen apple pie. The woman still looked at her with amusement, and a small smile. "It was a joke dear. I'm doing no better with this apple pie. See you around." And she walked off.
Emma couldn't believe she had a second encounter with her. She took the cereal with her, and headed the other way, realizing now, she needed milk too. She moved quickly over to the milk aisle, but saw that woman again! She must have forgotten milk too. Can't have pie without milk. She slowed her pace. She dared not face her. She couldn't think of anything cute to say, and besides, it would feel like she was stalking her back. Was all this stalking? What in the world was going on? Why does she keep running into her? Will she ever get out of this store with her dignity? As she slow strolled to the milk, the woman made a decision, grabbed her milk, and started walking towards Emma. Emma froze. The woman made eye contact, winked, and walked past her, practically brushing up against her. Was it subliminal messaging or did she smell like apples? The sent of her washed over Emma.
She went to grab her milk and decided it was time to escape. She headed down the aisle she knew would take her directly to the check out. Long lines, as predicted. She randomly picked one, and stood in line with an arm full of awkward objects. She kept her eyes on the tabloid magazines as she waited. When she read all that she could handle, she looked up over the gift cards, and her eyes met with the brunette. Had she been staring at her this whole time?
"Hey there. Seems like this will be the last time I may see you," she said to Emma, but Emma didn't know how to reply. She wasn't even sure if that is what she said. Once again, she was at a loss for words. The woman looked at her and she caught her dark eyes roving over her hair, her eyes, her lips. She then smiled at her, and walked up to the cahier. It was her turn to pay. Emma was stuck in her line. She watch the woman pay, gather her pie and milk and leave. She never looked back. When it was Emma's turn to pay, she wordlessly approached the pay station. She stood there feeling confused and rejected and lame. On the third time the cashier asked Emma fairly loudly if she would like a bag. Emma snapped to. "Yes please," trying not to sound perturbed that she had to buy a bag.
"Here you go, have a nice evening." The cashier said though Emma barley heard it as she grabbed the bag and headed towards the door with thoughts of beautiful raven hair still roaming her mind.