Brendon takes it a little too far.
So most people are flattered when someone tells them that they’re beautiful or that they have nice hands, but not me in this instance. I would have been… if he hadn’t said it so strangely. Now I’m afraid to even go to work because he’ll stare at my hands. I might as well wear gloves every day, especially now that I knew he wasn’t gone for good. It wasn’t just that day and the day after, but he kept coming. Every single day I was there, which led me ultimately to believe he was coming every day.
According to Alicia and Pat, he’d asked for me when I wasn’t there and was upset when he’d just missed me or if I wasn’t there. Then he’d leave. If I didn’t think he was obsessed with me before, I certainly knew he was now. Part of me wanted to quit and find a job somewhere else because he had just taken it too far.
One day, I had been there for six of my seven hours and he hadn’t shown up. I was starting to think that, maybe, he was gone for good. I was sorely mistaken as I watched him walk in. I saw his face light up as he cut the line to stand at my register, “Hi Ryan,” he breathed with a big smile on his lips. I was caught off guard. I wasn’t expecting him to show up, so my hand was at the top of the register. He took the opportunity to reach up and place his hand on mine, “I really love your hands…” he spoke softly, “They are so beautiful… And fragile… I just want to hold them forever…” he caressed the top of it.
I wanted to move my hand, to get away from him, but I couldn’t. I had a feeling that, if I’d tried, he would grab tight onto my wrist and force me to hold hands with him. I wasn’t prepared for that. Holding hands with a guy who was obsessed with me? That wasn’t something I exactly wanted to do, but I was too scared to say no, so I just stood there awkwardly. I didn’t want to say anything in fear he’d take it the wrong way.
“Are you Irish? You look Irish…” and I hesitated, nodding slowly. God, I really hoped nodding wasn’t the wrong thing to do. His face brightened and he smiled big, “Oh good, I love the Irish. They’re all such beautiful people. Just like you. You’re a unique Irishman though… You have brown hair… and gorgeous honey eyes… I could drown in your eyes…”
And yeah, if I wasn’t creeped out before, I officially was now. I wanted to pull my hand away and ask him to leave, but I didn’t want him to snap at me. I didn’t want him to get angry at me for being scared. That’s when the next customer cleared his throat, “Sir, if you’d please go back to the end of the line. I was next,” and the death glare that soon followed scared me more than the man’s creepiness itself. I suddenly felt bad for the man who attempted to get him to go away.
“No,” was all he growled out, causing the man to shrink back in fear. Great, now I didn’t only have an obsessed freak, but he apparently also is overly angry and jealous. Great, just great. That’s just what I needed. He was completely psychotic. And I was so screwed. The manager wasn’t here, I was the one in charge, and Alicia had no authority here. She was just a barista. So I was screwed. Brendon turned back to me with a creepy smile, “Where was I?” and, at that, I wanted to cry. What was I even supposed to do?
Five minutes of awkward silence later, my boss walked in and saw the situation at hand and how stressed Alicia was. She went around the counter and whispered in my ear, “Is there a problem here?” to which I nodded slowly. She raised an eyebrow, “What?” and I used my head to gesture to Brendon who was still creepily staring at me and holding my hand on the register. She cleared her throat, “Sir?” he looked at her, “Could you let go of my employee’s hand? It is making him uncomfortable and he has a job to get to.”
The look on Brendon’s face was so clear that I could play out in my head exactly what he wanted to happen…
“Let go of his hand? No! I will never let go of his hand. He belongs to me and I will hold him forever!”
“Sir, please leave.”
“No!” he growled, throwing his free hand to punch her in the jaw, causing her to fall backward. Meanwhile, I was standing there awkwardly, still unwillingly holding his hand. If this wouldn’t get me fired, I don’t know what would. He’d then grab my hand and pull me over the counter and flee with me under his arm as if I were a newspaper… his newspaper.
But that wouldn’t happen because at least the man had SOME semblance of sanity, even if it was small and insignificant. He gave her a wicked smile as he replied, “He wouldn’t have a job to get back to if he was with me,” and he let go. Oh god, why did he have to say that? Why did he have to be so creepy? My boss kept glaring at him until he finally walked out… but not without one sweet grin my way.
A/N: Apparently, I already had this written. I'm an idiot. Haha. My bad. I was all starting on chapter two cause I was like 'I gotta get it done by Sunday!' And Chapter 1 hadn't even been posted! :P Here you go! Rate and review pretty please! Three reviews would make anonymo so very happy. :)