I'm walking towards the ENTER door at Jewel when I see a group of young guys leaning against the wall.
"Hey miss, hold on a second!"
"What? What do you need?" I say, turning, and kind of sighing cuz I know the homeslice making his way over is going to hit me up for money.
"Are you a nice and friendly person?" He asks. He has a flaw on his lip and as he comes closer I can see it's a cut. This guy just got into a fight recently.
"No, no I'm not."
He blanches and seems to halt in space, mid-air in a leap, before he lands on his on his right foot and bounds over to me.
"What's goin' on?" I ask him.
"Hi, I'm just surveying people and - don't look at my lip, I see you looking at my lip!"
"I am looking at your lip, did you get in a fight?"
He blinks hard and I got him. "Yeah, I did, everyone thinks this is like a cold sore or something but it's not."
"Well, did you hit the guy hard? How's he doing?"
"Well, it was a friend of mine, but he's got this black eye and his lips are all busted up, but I walked away with this," as he points to his lip.
"Hey, good job man, I respect that," I say and reach for his hand. We smack palms and pull away with snaps and he goes "Why, you fight?"
"No, but I box."
"Aw! Lemme do that again" and reaches for my hand and we snap even harder, laughing. I watch him reach towards me to handle my bicep as he says "Flex for me...hey, nice."
"Naw, this is shit, I haven't done much in awhile."
"I'm Mike."
"I'm Jessica."
Apparently, Mike is trying to sell magazines for a contest in his home state of Washington. He kept pulling out a black leather bound agenda chocked with envelope-sized printed papers. I know this, because Mike came in with me to shop for pop for my mom. He told me he was participating in this contest to eventually pay for school.
He was a cute guy; a bit taller than me, in a crewneck DKNY sweater and baggy jeans. He looked and moved like he could have been an extra in Step Up. Or Step Up 2.
We grabbed the pop and he said "let's sit down for a while, here's my office," and motioned to a display of a deck table and some chairs. I reclined and listened to him tell me about how he had sustained an injury which depleted him of all his college scholarships for basketball. So he'll eventually go to school to study physical therapy. "Once you get injured, man, it's all over. It's like nobody even wanted to talk to me," he said about the schools that had courted him.
Mike was a very charismatic individual, a great talker, intelligent, persistent, and he was very cute, and he seemed very honest, and I know that if we were to date, we would sure get along well and grocery shopping would be a lot of fun; I do the choosing, he'd do the lifting.
But I don't fork out money to no one. You've got to sleep with me to get that.
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