He steals a glance every chance he gets. It makes your cheeks flush, so you smile and look away, pretending to be interested by something on the shelf.
He tries his best to focus on his tasks, but he’s more attentive to you than anyone else, even when you’re halfway across the room.
Leaving is the hardest. Are you sure there’s not something else you need. Double… Triple… Quadruple check your list. Then raise your gaze for one last glance, and finally float away.
You find yourself shopping more often because buying a new toothbrush simply can’t wait until next week. You need it now. And besides, he might be there.
Whenever he’s not, you manage to forget something so that when you have to return the next day you might have more luck.
His soft green eyes and sideways smile are fuel. They keep you going. Keep you coming back.
And when dates with other men leave you thinking of him, you realize exactly what you have to do. Give him your number. Just do it. He want’s you to. You know he does.
So you do it.
You take your time perusing the aisles, checking the labels on every single item. You wait patiently for a moment to catch him alone. A moment to hand him the tiny piece of paper folded up in your pocket.
You’ve been done for at least 30 minutes, but the moment still hasn’t come. Time to make your way to the check out. And when he’s too busy to steal more than a glance or two, your heart sinks down into your belly.
You walk out to the parking lot. Defeated. Deflated. Discouraged.
And after you load the groceries into the car, and sit down in the driver’s seat ready to leave, something comes over you.
You stand up, shut the car door and grab the piece of paper out of your pocket, clenching it in your fist.
You’re ready. You’re determined. You march your way back into the building, find him and walk straight up to him. He sees you. He smiles. He’s ready too.
You hand him the piece of paper, awkwardly say some garbled bits of language, then turn around and run.
Het texts you 30 minutes later.