- Sparrow -
A week later, my mom tells me to head out to the grocery store.
I freeze. My bow stops mid-scrape across the strings of my violin. "What for?" I inquire, lowering the instrument and resting my hands against my podium. That young employee's face immediately flashes across my mind's eye.
Mom glances at me from the kitchen, arms wrist-deep in a sink full of soapy water. "Milk, bread, and powdered sugar," she says. "But you can finish your practicing first."
I resume playing my violin, speeding through the notes that I've practiced so many times before. The discordant music spills from my swift fingers, more careless than I've ever made it. "Don't you want to slow down a little?" My mom asks, but by then the piece is over and I've already put away my musical things. I throw on my coat and scarf and head toward the door. "I'll be back soon!" I cry, slamming the door behind me.
Twenty-two minutes later, I drive up to the Burgess Stop n' Save. The tall floodlights in the parking lot bear a ghostly halo in the snowy air, and the fluorescent lettering on the front of the long building shines brightly, illuminating the falling snowflakes.
I park my car and stare at the doors. Beyond them, the warm lights of the grocery store glow through the cold.
Maybe he's working today.
Maybe he's not.
That would be better.
Mustering up my courage, I leave the car, pulling my scarf around me. I plow forward, through the cold, toward the light. Surely, he's not working today. I mean, no. Why would he be? Psh.
The automatic doors welcome me into the store. I shake the snow out of my hair, and in doing so my eyes catch on someone unloading a cart of boxes onto a shelf nearby. Dark-haired, straight-nosed, his profile familiar.
Of course.
I make a beeline to the back of the store, leaping forward on my tiptoes to ensure that my shoes don't click so loudly on the ground. Once I'm far down the aisle, away from the door, I make a sharp left and head to the back corner of the store, where the freezers are. I grab a gallon of milk, swinging it awkwardly. For bread, I'll have to return to the northwest part of the store, where I just was. Where he is.
I breathe out a sigh and press forward, my scarf flapping as I half-sprint toward the other end of the store, staying near the back. I can't let him see me. I don't want to talk to him. The milk pulls awkwardly down on my arm, and I switch it to my other hand.
I reach the aisle of dry goods and peer down it, squinting at the door. The shelf next to it is stacked neatly with his boxes, boxes of what appear to be discounted cereal. The boy himself is nowhere to be seen.
At least that victory is there. I race to the front of the aisle, grab some bread - that gross 5-grain loaf that mom likes - and turn down the next aisle, when I see the boy's unmistakeable figure at the end. Ugh! He is everywhere, like freakin' Loki or something! His stupid hair and stupid face and stupid apron and stupid voice. I turn abruptly and head into the next aisle, even though the powdered sugar that I need is on the aisle I just was on. I'll head back for it later. I can't go there right now. I can't let him see me.
He's not stupid.
He's nice.
He was nice to me when I needed it. With his kind voice and little geeky TARDIS button. Maybe I should have given him a chance, should have talked to him. Maybe I shouldn't be avoiding him as if he -
My thoughts are interrupted as I slam into someone. My bread goes flying, and I dive for it, sputtering apologies, somehow already knowing who I ran into.
"Hey, it's alright," he says good-naturedly, laughing a little as he reaches for my dented milk jug. "It was just - Hey! It's you!" He's staring at me with a bewildered smile.
I hope my cheeks aren't red. They're red, aren't they? Oh my gods, they are. I smile somehow, and my hand shoots up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Yeah, me," I say, or at least that's what I think I say. I don't exactly know what my mind's doing. Wait - you? The way he said
you like I am some sort of special -
Oh, he's talking. I listen to his voice, soft and masculine and melodious. "I wondered where you had gone before," he says casually. "The other day." His eyes flick toward me. They're kind of golden-colored, like dark amber or something.
I blink. Focus, Sparrow. "Oh, I'm sorry about that. I had to - do something." I flash a smile, hoping that will cover it. I suddenly realize that I'm crushing my mother's bread in my clenched fist.
He nods. "Oh. Okay." The corners of his lips twitch upward into his seemingly ever-present smile. He lifts up my milk. "I'll take this to the register for you, if you want."
"Yeah, okay," I say sheepishly as I grab a package of powdered sugar, wrapping one arm around it. That's everything I need.
We walk down the aisle (no foreshadowing there).
"You know, I never got your name," I ask, actually initiating some sort of interaction for once.
- Caspian -
"My name's Cas," I say with a smile, my fingers cold against the milk jug.
She smiles back. "Cas? Like, Castiel? Caspian?"
I grin. "Yes, actually. Caspian. My parents are slight geeks."
"Which would explain the TARDIS pin?" She inquires.
"Yes." I look down, unable to hide my smile, and then look at her. "And your name is…?"
There's a small pause before she answers. "Sparrow."
It seems to fit her, the way she looks - with her slender, fragile build and angular features, and the way she moves and speaks, like she's about to burst into song or flight.
"So, do you live around here?" I ask. "I've… never really seen you here before. And trust me - I know everyone here."
She shrugs. "We moved here about a year ago, my mom and I. I live pretty close, I guess." She shifts the package of powdered sugar from one arm to the other. "I have an aunt nearby who used to bring us groceries all the time when we first arrived, but she stopped when she got an actual job of her own. So then my mom got a job for herself and started sending me out when we needed things." She shrugs. "I only recently came across this place."
We get to the register, and I slide the items across and into a paper bag, scanning them speedily. "That's $8.42," I say. Sparrow hands me the money.
"I'll take these out for you, if you like," I offer.
Sparrow shakes her head, black headband glittering under the bright lights. "No, that's okay. It's all snowy and stuff. You'll get all cold."
- Sparrow -
Cas shrugs and smiles. "I don't mind," he says.
"No, really, it's okay! I can manage," I insist, taking the bags from him. I gravitate towards the door, ready to leave.
"Well, it was nice talking to you. Sparrow," says Cas cheerfully, tagging my name on at the end, as if he's about to ask me something rather than bid me goodbye.
"You too, Cas," I say. He opens his mouth as if to say something. Perhaps to ask me if I'll come back here soon? Maybe to inquire about my tastes in restaurants?
But I'll never know. I'm already out the door.
When I get to my car, I toss the bags into the trunk, hop into the front seat, and sink into the soft material as I blast the heat.
I don't even know what just happened.
Something warm blooms within me.
I like what just happened.
