I’m sitting on the couch with the remnants of a $12.99 bottle of wine--a step up from my usual $6.99 purchase because I’m celebrating. It’s summer; I’ve completed the last round of meetings for work, and I finally have time to think about something other than data for at least a week. Jo breezes in through the back door and drops her keys and purse on the small table we’ve retained for the sole purpose of not actually having to put anything away. I give a nod to my roommate of two years and explain my current situation.

“I’m really hoping someone up there likes me and is willing to help solve a problem of mine.”

“Oh yeah?” Jo removes her shoes and tosses her jean jacket on top of her keys before quickly checking her phone.

“I’ve just texted a formerly questionable decision in the hopes that it metamorphoses into a great decision by the end of this glass of wine.”

Jo snorts. “They sell condoms at the corner store.”

“Let’s add that to the list of Things I Will Never Allow Those Men to See Me Purchase.”

---

The men who work at the corner store behind our apartment building have become, in a strange way, like a bevy of uncles in the city. These middle eastern men who have seen me purchase two bottles of wine, chocolate ice cream, and tampons will never see me purchase condoms. I have already labeled them the only men who can call me “sweetheart” and “dear” without making my skin crawl. My old roommate introduced us when I first moved in and since then I’ve met their children, talked about their vacations, and held them open an extra 15 minutes because I was in desperate need of pretzels and they gave me the store phone number for just such an emergency. All of these things were kind, but the main reason I’d like to maintain an air of asexuality around them is because when my parents visited, they begged an introduction. That Saturday evening, the middle son was working the register.

“These are my parents. They’re visiting from out of town and wanted to see who kept me alive.”

“You have a great daughter here. She only ever buys milk. And fruit.” He smiled and packaged our family purchase: vodka, extra olives, and a bottle of wine. A man lovely enough to lie to my parents when it’s quite apparent they’re fine with my life choices will never see me buy condoms. Something about these proprietors’ protective nature makes me want to shield them from my sex life. As such, my corner store uncles will sit safely in the belief that I’m drinking all of the wine and eating all of the ice cream while remaining entirely celibate. It’s not too much of a mental leap.

---

Jo takes a beer out of the refrigerator, shakes out her black pixie cut, and points to my phone, “Fair enough. Make him do it.”

“You’re basically the best roommate.”

“Did he respond?”

I check my phone and notice a one-word reply to my cautious probe for interest. Well that settles that. I toss the phone on the coffee table and finish off my glass of wine. “Not in a manner that changes what I’m doing for the rest of the night.”

“Well, that solves one of your problems.”

“I’ve got to be more specific when sending up requests for help.”

Jo laughs and takes a look back at her phone, “Adam’s almost here. Chill tonight?”

“Sure. Thanks for letting me crash your party.”

The screen door slams and I hear a deep baritone from the kitchen. “Party? It’s only a party when Steph stays. This one is boring.” Adam hops into the living room and kisses Jo on the forehead. I’d hate them if they weren’t so great about my third-wheeling 90% of the time. It’s just as well. Adam and Jo are essentially an institution and I’m comfortable holding up the single banner a while longer--it suits me.

Three hours, a movie and a half, and two bowls of popcorn later I feel a nudge on my elbow. I open one eye to see Adam smiling at me.

“Sleepyface. Wake up. Beer run. We’re out.”

“Shouldn’t having fallen asleep exclude me from duty?” I rub my eyes and shrug into a sitting position.

“Nope,” Jo smiles, “party-crashers are included by default.” I harumph and grab the deck of cards from our coffee table. Adam sits up and rubs his hands together like he’s preparing for some serious labor or conjuring some serious luck. Either way, it’s too much energy for this ritual. I hold the deck out to Jo who crops roughly twenty cards off the top and shows the bottom card.

“Ha. Ten. Not bad.” Jo remains perched on the edge of her seat. Adam licks his fingers and takes half the remaining stack and flips it over.

“Queen. This never happens.” Adam victoriously puffs his chest and pushes his shoes further under the table, his spot on the couch solidified. I wonder if pulling a card is even worth it at this point. Still, I send up a very specific request for a card higher than a 10 and take the top card off the remaining deck. The three of clubs stares up at me. Crap.

“Aw, poor luck, Steph. Thanks for running out!” Jo squishes back in next to Adam and I start hunting for my shoes. I pull my Oxford hoodie over my t-shirt and run a hand through my hair. Fashion has never been my strong suit, but I was blessed with hair that holds curl. Day two after washing and I can still manage to make this blonde mess look like I attempted a presentable appearance--my nod to the corner store that they’re certainly worth at least some effort.

I pull open the glass door to the corner store and the wash of air conditioning hits. The night is a cool summer one but the store was prepared for the 90 degree day the weather channel predicted. Never trust the weather channel. I shiver further into my sweatshirt and make my way past the front rows of candy and odds and ends to the back where the coolers are. I peruse before quickly grabbing a 12-pack of something cheap. 11 pm on a Saturday and neither Jo nor Adam are too picky. I’m contemplating a bag of M&Ms near the register when I hear a distinctly British accent over the hum of the coolers.

“Ah, I’m sorry mate, I’ve only got me card.”

The man working the register gives an apologetic shrug and points to the paper sign behind him indicating the store’s $10 minimum for card purchases. I watch as the guy digs his hands into his pockets, searching in vain for something we both know isn’t there. I walk up and stand just to his side.

“Hey darling,” Amir smiles at me and I give him a nod back.

“Hey, Amir. He’s with me.” The stranger quickly turns his head and underneath slightly disheveled chestnut hair, I’m greeted with two unbelievably blue eyes.

“I-”

Before he can finish, I smile back at Amir and place my beer on the counter, handing him my card to cover both purchases.

“How’s it going, sweetheart?”

“Well, thanks. Nice that the heat’s broken a bit this week.” I wait as he runs my card and the receipt prints.

“True, true. How are the kids?” Amir bags up my beer and my new friend’s bottle of wine and hands my receipt over to be signed.

“I assume they’re as great as I am--summer break is finally here,” Amir smiles and suddenly I want to make sure this stranger knows I don’t have kids of my own, “Perks of being a schoolteacher I guess.” Amir laughs, takes my receipt, and thanks me for my purchase. I grab the bag from the counter and walk past the new man, apparently speechless from this exchange.

“Coming?” I smile. He follows me outside and runs a hand up around the back of his neck. The gesture is undeniably endearing. I fish his bottle of wine from my bag and hold it out.

“Thanks,” he grins, “I have to say that’s a first for me.”

“Which part?” I’m still holding the neck of the bottle and recognize it looks slightly like I’m preparing to strike him with it. I quickly readjust my grip and hold the bottle by the base and offer it out, now looking like a waiter presenting the bottle to a table of dinner guests. The idiocy of my actions in last twenty seconds are enough to make me want to drop the damn thing.

“Well, I can’t tell if you’ve robbed me, kidnapped me, or saved me. Until you figure out what you’re doin’ with that bottle, I’ll reserve judgment.” My face flushes as I realize he’s noticed my machinations.

“Sorry,” I drop the bottle to my side and smile at the ground, “You just looked like you could use some help. I’m here often. Thought I’d give it a shot.”

“In that case,” he reaches and takes the bottle, brushing my fingers as he does so and I look up to see his eyes twinkling. He’s teasing me. “I’ll say it’s the first time a beautiful lady has bought me a drink before I took her to dinner.” He transfers the bottle to his left hand and holds out his right, “Louis.”

I shake his hand in the parking lot of the corner store, an oddly formal gesture for our circumstance.

“Stephanie.”

“So Stephanie, give a lad a chance to salvage his pride?”

“What?” Apparently all mental faculties have abandoned me. Normally I’m quick on the uptake, but this man’s eyes really shouldn’t be legal. It’s the first time a man in beat up khaki shorts and an oversized grey hoodie has held my attention this long. His legs are lean and tan and when he held out his hands, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo that looked like playing card symbols. If the three of clubs got me out here, maybe a gamble on the rest of him isn’t untoward…

“Just askin’ for your number, love. Not seekin’ nuclear launch codes or anythin’.” He put both arms behind his back and stepped back, “I’ll wait while you decide.” He started whistling and looking up at nothing while I stood dumbfounded. He glanced at me and winked once.

“Sure. Yes. Sorry, speaking isn’t normally something that’s difficult for me.” I laugh.

“S’fine. Words are hard.” He smiled and held out his phone. I punched my number in and handed it over. He took a quick couple of seconds to hit some buttons and I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I set my beer down and reached in my back pocket and saw an unknown number flash across the screen. Louis grinned and ended the call. “Just wanted to be sure ya weren’t runnin’ off on me. And now you have me.”

“I have you, do I?” I found some of the nerves that had left me earlier rolled my shoulders back, releasing tension I didn’t realize I’d held there.

“Well not yet, love, but I suppose we could skip dinner…”

I cackled and smacked his shoulder. He rocked back on one leg and came back to an upright position. Once I caught my breath, I gestured to my bag, “I need to get going. I was supposed to deliver this a while ago.”

Louis nodded and pointed to the hand holding my phone, “Answer me when I call.”

I locked the phone and slipped it in my back pocket. “Will do. I usually answer for free food.”

“Good to know.” Louis winked and turned on his heel walking down the street.

---

“Stephanie! What took you so long?” Adam was standing at the fridge staring into empty space when I came through the screen door. I took my hoodie off and dropped it on the side table handing over the beer, replaying the past ten minutes with the stranger...Louis. With Louis.

“Sorry,” I shrugged, “Got lucky, I guess.”

Adam raised an eyebrow and I burst into a fit of giggles. Jo appeared in the door, took one look at my face and snapped her fingers, "You met a dude.” I bit my lip and nodded.

“Good. Don’t fuck it up.” Jo grabbed a beer from Adam and plopped back down on the couch. I felt Adam’s hands on my shoulders.

“What she means is that she’s happy for you.” I learned Jo-speak a long time ago. I patted Adam’s hand and felt my phone vibrate.

Unknown Number
Thanks for the save. Wouldn’t have minded a kidnapping though ; )

I suppressed a grin and fixed the number in my phone. After five minutes of attempting a witty reply, I decided anything was better than not responding at all.

To: Louis
Good to know : )

Notes