I was only safe when I was alone. How did that make sense? I didn't know.

But I wasn't alone now, so, naturally, my anxiety levels were rising in intense amounts. Today at work there was a signing, so squealing girls were all lined up, making me irritated and claustrophobic.

"Spencer, would you please sort these records?" My boss handed me a rather large box of CDs, asking me in her fake polite voice to organize them in shelves. I rolled my eyes and obeyed apathetically.

One by one by one, tediously, painfully, onto the shelves the CDs go. My mind uninterested in the people around me, my mind incapable of thinking about anything in particular. I had nothing to think about; I had no friends, I had no family, I had no drama. Well, maybe a little drama, but my mind effectively tuned that out. So instead of thinking, I counted in my head. One, two, three, four…

Three hundred and seven. Three hundred and seven. Three hundred and fucking seven CD’s later I was finally done. Done with this job. Done with this crowded room. Done with the noise.

“You look like you’re having fun,” someone nudged my arm, and I immediately recoiled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you there!” the person spoke again.

I wasn’t really in the mood to talk, so I made a “hmph” sound and turned away, not even bothering to look at the speaker. Maybe I was being rude, but maybe I didn’t necessarily care.

“Damn, then,” I heard him say under his breath.

“Are you done, already?” my boss asked me happily.

“It only took three hours,” I glared.

“Well, here’s another one, get back to work,” she snapped, handing me another box, clearly fed up with my attitude. I rolled my eyes again and quickly turned to continue working. Wonderful life, this was, really.

When I turned around, though, I nearly ran into someone. “Jesus,” I hissed under my breath.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” the guy standing in front of me scoffed sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, turning to go around him. I didn’t want to look at him, because when I look, I get interested. And when I get interested, I get close. And when I get close, well… bad things happen when I get close to people.

Maybe I was being over dramatic. This was just some guy being friendly, right? Not every conversation had to turn into a… a… friendship, or whatever you call it. I didn’t know much about friendship, or relationships, or people.

I sighed, giving into my curiosity. “I think it’s pretty clear I’m not a people person,” I said lowly as I turned back around. But when I turned, no body was standing behind me. Of course.

Feeling slightly embarrassed and stupid, I turned back to continue stacking and sorting records. I turned aggressively, running into someone again. “Damn, sorry,” I said to the person.

“Hey, maybe if you opened your eyes a little you’d notice that it’s me again,” the guy said, smiling. “And yes, I agree. You’re not much of a people person,” he winked.

“Oh,” was all I could think of to say. I carefully looked at him. He was tall, built. He had a tattoo sleeve and spiky hair… he was... attractive. And adorable, because when he smiled, two distinguishable dimples formed. I tried not to stare, because what did I know about attractiveness or adorableness? I had nobody to compare him to. But, somehow, I knew he was both. I cocked my head to the side, unintentionally “hmphing”, again.

“Like what you see?” he winked again, tilting his head to the side now. I felt my cheeks warm—was I blushing? I knew how to blush? When was the last time I have blushed? He was clearly looking at me, now, taking in every disgusting aspect. “Not too bad yourself,” he whispered lowly.

I chuckled sarcastically. “Bull shit,” I said, about to turn away from him again.

“Hey, wait!”

“Yes?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. Did this person actually want to talk to me? No, he probably wanted to know where a CD was. Besides, that was my job. And I only talked to people relating to my job.

“You look pretty bored, here. Maybe I can convince your lovely boss to let you go early, if you want to hang out with me and my friends?” he bit his lip hopefully. Ha! Like I would ever!

“Good luck with that one,” I mumbled, the box still in my hands. He reached over and took it lightly from me, setting it down onto a nearby desk. I let it go easily, because it was heavy. Surely it contained even more than three hundred and fucking seven CDs. My boss was a bitch.
I didn’t know what to say or what to do, so I kind of just stood there frowning, like usual. I was always frowning. Half of me wanted to hang around, maybe make a friend or two. When was the last time I had a real conversation with someone, let alone a boy? But the other half—the more prominent half—of me wanted to ditch, be by myself, listen to music. They wouldn’t like me, anyway, so what was the point?

“So do you want to come, or not?” he pressed. I sighed. I’d let my boss do the deciding, confident that she wouldn’t let me leave.

“We’ll see what my lovely boss says,” I told him.

“Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t let just anyone borrow her valuable record stacker,” he winked again. What was with all of the winking?

“Mhhm,” I said absentmindedly. “I’ll wait here,” I said, sitting on the edge of the desk. I didn’t want to be “graced” with her “lovely” presence.

The guy was back within a minute, smiling broadly. Smiling? How in the world did he manage to be successful?

“Looks like you have to come with me,” he said, trying to be mysterious.

I couldn’t help but laugh lightly for real this time. Well, I thought it was a laugh, but I couldn’t be certain. Laughter was such a foreign thing to me…

“Can I know your name?” he nudged my arm as we walked out the back door of the record store.

“Spencer,” I said quietly. “Just Spencer,” I didn’t like people to know my last name. My last name meant nothing. I didn’t want to be associated with it. “And you?” I asked, slightly surprised at how easily I reciprocated the question. Normally, in a situation like this, I would remain quiet, not really caring, or knowing that he or she would tell me his or her name by his or her self. But I was still hung up on the fact that my bitch of a boss let me go early… how did he do it?

“I’m Jaime,” he said. “Jaime Preciado.”

Oh. That’s how.

Notes

hello all! I'm writing a new story! (But don't fret, my other one "The Curse" is still being written, as well: we will see how writing two completely different stories at once will go haha)

anyway, this was kind of an introduction chapter; i'm not vevry good at the beginnings of things

but BOY do i have this one planned out. well, kind of. i sort of had a moment of inspiration and wrote a chapter intending to be the very last chapter... but you'll obviously have to wait and see what it is :P

so, i am thinking that this is going to be a rather short story, but we'll see how that works out. i always tend to write a lot more than i initially want

SO, i really hope you guys wait for the next few chapters, because even though you probably see this as a typical fan fic, i'm sure you won't be expecting the few twists that i've already planned out... >:)

let me know what you think! :)