Within Five Minutes
Most people say that within five minutes of meeting a male who is moderately attractive, or at least breathing, a member of the gentler sex has already thought of which engagement ring he will buy for her, the color scheme for their wedding, a design for their first nursery, and how their firstborn will look as he accepts his diploma. Ethan Caple, however, disagreed. He would stake his life on the fact that the time period, in his case at least, would be less than three.
From where Ethan saw, at his register in Hollister, his place of work, all girls were in need of a man, and he just happened to be the one they often chose. In his opinion, it could’ve been his brains and intellect or his charm and good looks, but there was something about him that welcomed the ladies.
Whether he was walking through Kroger or East building, Ethan strutted as though he was a king among hid courtiers. His constant response was friendship extended from all and phone numbers offered from most.
His ego drove many over the edge, yet they were the freaks, those alienated from the society that is the popularity hierarchy. Ethan was graced with death-glares and looks that could kill, but rarely noticed, presumably because of a girl latched onto his arm. If he did notice, he would’ve brushed it off as mere jealousy.
Ethan yawned, lobbing a tennis ball upwards and snatching it lazily, while his fellow employee Shane frowned at him. Shane was folding shirts, a job that would’ve worked much better with two people, but Ethan continued in one-person-catch. He knew his supervisors wouldn’t fire him; he did, after all, bring many of the female costumers to their finger tips.
“I could use some help over here,” Shane muttered in an annoyed sin-song voice.
“Aw, c’mon Shane! You’re the math kid! My reflexes have probably gotten what…twelve percent better? Since our shift started, at least.”
“Well, actually,” Shane began in what Ethan called his “nerd voice.”
Ethan heard less than he usually heard from Shane’s lectures, an affect of a stunning girl with long, copper-colored hair who had just entered the store.
“Woah, stop there,” Ethan said holding up a hand to silence his coworker. “Less geek, more girls.” He winked while sliding off the counter.
“Erm…I-I wouldn’t—” Shane stuttered, remembering her from Algebra II.
“C’mon. I'm Ethan Caple! If I can’t get this one, I’ll fold those for you!”
Shane smirked as Ethan sauntered towards the girl’s section, destroying the pile he’d been carefully constructing, knowing full well he wouldn’t be the one to fix it.
“Hi, my name is Ethan,” he began, leaning against a shelf in a way that a former girlfriend had told him accentuated his muscles. “Is there any way I can help—”
“Do these shirts come in a size larger than this?” the girl said curtly, tossing a tee in his face.
He checked the size, finding that it was a large. “Well, if you ask me,” he murmured, using his “flirty voice,” “you’d be better off with this.” Ethan got the same shirt in an extra small with a flick of his wrist, tipping the carefully stacked shirts over. He made a pathetic attempt to catch the falling shirts before they hit the floor with a soft thump.
He looked up from trying to restore the stack to its pristine state to find the girl watching him with an eyebrow raised.
“So, I guess you’re using the technique where you tell a girl she looks at least two sizes smaller than she actually is.” She frowned.
“Um…” It was true that he had been doing just that. It had worked on the last three girls he had used it on.
“Yeah. I expected as much.”
More for the sake of salvaging any chance he had of not folding shirts than trying to woo this girl, Ethan smiled awkwardly and said, “I, uh, didn’t catch your name earlier.”
“Gabby.”
“So, uh, you wanna go get some coffee or something?” he asked, hoping she was second-guessing her first impression of him.
Gabby smiled coyly, reaching around him to set the shirt back down. “It sounds like you’ll be fairly busy with those shirts out front.”
Ethan looked at her confusedly before realizing she must’ve overheard his and Shane’s bet. He swallowed, biting his lip softly.
She stepped closer, grinning slightly. “You should be more careful about how loud you are when you gamble over a third party’s actions.”
Ethan took this as a good time to exit and rushed back to the register.
Shane roared with laughter at what must’ve been Ethan’s disheveled appearance. He quickly ran a hand over his hair in an attempt to recover some semblance of poise.
Shane grinned evilly before walking back to the lady’s section.
Ethan took his place again, sitting on the counter, playing with the tennis ball. When Shane reemerged a few minutes later, Ethan was surprised to see Gabby close behind. Surprised was most definitely an understatement. Floored was probably closer to the actual truth.
“Hey, cover for me.” Shane threw his name tag onto the desk and kept going. He stopped a little before he reached the door. “And you should probably get started on those shirts.”
Ethan glanced at the destroyed mess that had been a meticulously stacked pile when he went to find Gabby. “Get me an Orange Julius, ‘kay?” he yelled at his friend’s departing back.
Ruffled by his rejection, Ethan considered the possibilities Gabby brought up by him. What if every girl didn’t love him at first sight? What if all the guys didn’t want to be his best friend? What if he wasn’t really as popular as he thought? Would he end up a nerd? An outcast like Shane?
The sight of Gabby waiting for him at the end of his shift, Orange Julius in tow, cast away all those worries. They’d probably been unfounded anyways.
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