Chapter 4
I'm still staring at the door long after the redhead has left, the lingering scent of her perfume something subtle yet intoxicating clinging faintly to the air. My pulse hasn't quite steadied, the memory of her gaze still locked in my mind. It wasn't just her beauty that had me frozen, though that was undeniable. It was the way she moved, the way she spoke. Every step she took, every word she uttered, was deliberate, controlled. Like a predator circling prey.
I shiver at the thought, unsure why my stomach twists in such a strange, conflicting way. There was something... unnerving about her. And yet, I couldn't look away.
The sharp snap of fingers in front of my face jolts me back to reality causing me to flinch.
"Excuse me!"
I blink, disoriented, and turn to find a woman standing in front of the counter, glaring at me through small, rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her gray hair is pulled back into a severe bun, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. She's the kind of customer I dread, the impatient, no-nonsense type who expects the world to revolve around her.
"I've been standing here for five minutes! " she snaps, though I know for a fact it hasn't been that long. "Do you think you could stop daydreaming long enough to help me?"
"I-I'm so sorry" I stammer, heat rushing to my cheeks as I scramble to focus. My heart sinks under the weight of her tone, sharp and cutting. "What can I help you with today?"
She narrows her eyes, her impatience radiating like a storm cloud. "I'm looking for a bracelet. Something tasteful, not gaudy. And it needs to be today. I don't have all day for this nonsense."
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod, forcing a polite smile even as her words sting. I hate this part of the job. I hate how some people see me not as a person, but as a tool, someone to command and critique. But the money is good, better than any other job I've had and I can't afford to lose it.
"Of course" I say, my voice quieter than I'd like as I step out from behind the counter. "We have a lovely selection of bracelets just over here. Let me show you."
She follows me to the display case, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. I can feel her eyes on me, judging every move I make, every word I say.
"This one" I begin, pointing to a delicate gold bracelet adorned with tiny sapphires. "It's one of our bestsellers-"
"Too flashy" she cuts in, her voice flat. "I said tasteful."
I nod quickly, suppressing the urge to shrink under her gaze. "Of course. My apologies." I move to the next option, a simple silver chain with a single pearl charm. "This one might be more to your liking. It's understated but elegant."
She leans in to inspect it, her expression softening just a fraction. "Hmm. That's better. At least you're not completely useless."
The words hit harder than I expect, a sharp jab to my already frayed nerves. I force myself to keep smiling, though my fingers tremble as I unlock the case to retrieve the bracelet for her.
"Would you like to try it on?" I ask, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.
"No need" she says briskly, straightening. "I'll take it."
Relief washes over me as I carefully wrap the bracelet, every motion meticulous despite the way my hands shake. I slide the small package across the counter, avoiding her eyes as I ring up the sale.
She doesn't thank me, doesn't even acknowledge the effort I put into the interaction. She simply snatches the bag and marches out of the store, leaving me standing there, deflated and exhausted.
I take a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm, to push past the sting of her words. It's not the first time I've dealt with a customer like her, and it won't be the last. But some days like today it feels harder to brush off.
I glance toward the door again, my thoughts drifting back to the redhead. She had an intensity about her, a sharpness that should have unsettled me, but instead left me curious. And for the briefest moment, I wonder what it would feel like to have her look at me like she did earlier, but with warmth instead of detachment.
I shake my head, chastising myself for the thought. She was just a customer, nothing more. But as I run my fingers over the counter, smoothing away an invisible speck of dust, I can't shake the feeling that today wasn't the last time I'll see her.
I glance at the clock. The day isn't even half over, and I already feel drained. My chest tightens as I force myself to keep moving, to smile at the next customer who walks in. But in the back of my mind, the weight of the morning lingers.