Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
A curveball he’s loathed and not missed since the day he took a diploma and walked off a creaky gymnasium stage.
But he doesn’t have to think about the whole summer. Only about today and surviving the rest of his shift. Then he can return home to what really matters: his unfinished conversation with a lightning-bolt-farting pair of cartoon butt cheeks.
After half an hour of Teague shadowing him, Liam realizes it won’t be nearly as easy as it sounds. “Hey, have you ever had to clean up something gross?” asks Teague.
The questions are endless. “Just do what I do,” instructs Liam through the permanent scowl he’s adopted since his break. “And pay attention. I’m not explaining everything twice.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Teague struggles to keep up with Liam’s fast pace as he pulls cereal boxes from the back of the shelf and moves them to the front. “What’s the point of all this nitpicking, anyway?”
“The better, fuller, and neater the shelves appear, the more we sell.”
“Really?”
“Obviously. You don’t want the store looking like hurricane panic—all scavenged through, messy, and bare. Older stuff to the front,” snaps Liam, yanking a box of cereal out of Teague’s hand, startling him. “This expires earlier than that, so it goes in the front. Aren’t you reading the dates?”
“Cereal expires? C’mon. No one checks for expiration dates on Cornflakes.”
“Your store manager does, and so do I.”
“If people checked expirations, no one would have anything to eat during the zombie apocalypse. Ever think of that?”
“I—You aren’t—This isn’t The Walking Dead, Teague. It isn’t a good look when you have old cereal on the shelf because no one’s—Why am I having to explain this??” bursts Liam.
Teague shrugs as he glances at another cereal box, smirking down at its date. “Thought all I’d need to do is sweep, mop spills, and hit on customers all day.”
Liam shudders in lieu of rolling his eyes as he glances up at the store clock, which hangs just above the cooler doors down the aisle. Several hours still remain of his longest shift on earth.
The day can’t end fast enough.
After realizing he can’t reach the back of the top shelf, Liam pulls the stepladder off of the dolly they’ve been pushing around the store, then climbs it. Even still, he struggles to reach.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Liam sighs as he stretches for the faraway box of Multi Grain Cheerios. “You’ve already asked a hundred and—mmph!—ninety-six of them. What’s one more?”
“Why do you hate me?”
The question throws Liam so hard, his foot flies right out from underneath him.
Down he goes, helpless to stop himself from falling.
The world twirls the wrong way as Liam throws out his hands to catch himself, but misses the shelf, the ladder, and anything else within reach.
But he doesn’t hit the ground.
When Liam opens his eyes, he finds himself in Teague’s arms, who dropped every cereal box he was holding to catch him.
The two stare into each other’s eyes, Liam catching his breath, Teague gazing down at him, stunned.
Holding him in his arms.
Both as surprised to see one another as the other.
Their faces are close again. Liam’s heart drums in his chest with the ferocity of a leopard chasing prey as he peers up at his savior’s face—his deep brown eyes, his lifted eyebrows, his wide parted lips that curl in that uniquely cute, Teague-specific fashion, though he doesn’t seem amused exactly; he seems in shock.
A pleasant shock, if that can even be described.
Liam comes to, and the spell breaks. He rights himself, getting back to his feet as he’s let down.
Teague hasn’t quite recovered, still looking at Liam with deep concern. “Hey, you okay there, Peanut?”
Maybe it’s the use of the hated nickname, but Liam at once finds himself unable to thank Teague. He just glares at him as he smooths out his shirt and apron. “I’m fine.”
“Need to reach something on that top shelf?”
“I got it.”
“I can get it for you.” He wiggles his fingers for some reason. “Long-ass arms, remember?”
“I said I got it,” snaps Liam, stepping back onto the short ladder and reaching once again for the Multi Grain Cheerios. He’s no closer to obtaining the reclusive box of cereal this time than he was a minute ago.
He feels a sudden presence behind him. With a glance over his shoulder, he finds Teague standing right by him, his syrupy eyes laser-focused on Liam while dutifully holding the ladder.
Liam frowns. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Just in case.”
“I know how to keep balanced on a ladder.”
“Do you, though?”
Teague’s taunting voice makes Liam flush with frustration. Why is he so annoyingly insistent on being helpful all of a sudden? Perhaps it would have been better had Teague not played the hero and let him hit the ground. Maybe now, Liam could be comfier in the backroom nursing an aching back. That’d probably be less of a pain than putting up with this guy.