Jen Safrey - A Perfect Pair

“Perfectly nice looking. That’s strong. Why don’t you just go up to him and ask him to marry you right now? Obviously, from what we’ve seen, he’s the man for you. Maybe you can catch a justice of the peace at this hour. I’ll go along, be a witness—”

“Oh, will you stop it? When did you become so sarcastic?” Exasperated, Josey continued, “Go pay for that. Go stand somewhere else. I don’t want him to think I’m with you.”

Nate’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? I—”

“Nate!” Josey’s words sounded to her own ears a lot like whining. “You promised you’d help me.”

“I didn’t promise this.”

“Okay, this is an extenuating circumstance. I didn’t come here looking for a date. Please just don’t mess this up.”

They stared at each other with an obstinate clash of wills. Nate never let her win. He shouldn’t let her win now, he thought. He couldn’t understand why he was so against this—walking away so Josey could make a date with a decent-looking, probably perfectly nice guy. But something in the back of his mind nagged him, pushing and pulling at him, telling him it was a bad idea and he should stop her. Dammit, he thought, she can do whatever she wants.

“Fine, Josey.” Nate started to back off, but Josey grabbed his hand and shoved him in the other direction, where he wouldn’t have to pass Foreign Films.

“Nate…”

“You’re paying for the Chinese food,” he said, pointing a finger at her, close to her nose, “and don’t give me any ‘teacher’s salary’ crap.”

Josey’s smile lit up her face so brightly, he half expected all the customers to reach into their pockets and purses and pull out their sunglasses. “Thank you, Nate.” She ran both hands through her golden hair, then blew him a kiss. Nate stubbornly turned toward the cash register before the airborne affection could touch him.

The line was about six miles long, but for the entire time Nate stood there, he refused to glance toward Foreign Films. He wasn’t sure how Josey was doing, but he couldn’t imagine it was too badly. He figured that whoever the man was, he’d have the good sense to be flattered. Nate knew that if he was out alone on a weekend, browsing through movies, and Josey walked up to him, he’d be amazed at his luck.

Again he resisted the urge to glance over to see how she was faring. She’d tell him when they got outside. She kept no secrets from him.

“Next?” the girl at the register snapped, and Nate realized she’d probably had to say it more than once. He dropped the video box on the counter, but just as he went to pay the girl, an enormous clattering sound at the back of the store caused everyone to turn around, including Nate.

There stood Josey, red-faced, sheepish. At her feet was a huge pile of videos, and more were landing on the floor from the now nearly empty shelf beside her hip. As each one dropped, Josey flinched. The elastic that had held the videos in place had somehow caught on her purse strap and snapped, releasing all the boxes. It was still dangling there, next to her elbow.

Nate clapped a hand to his forehead and shook his head slowly. Josey caught his gaze, her own eyes desperate. Then she knelt on the floor and began frantically scooping up boxes.

Nate left his rental on the counter and started to her rescue, but the trench-coated man was suddenly kneeling beside her. Nate stopped in his tracks as the man whispered something in Josey’s ear, and she threw her head back and laughed. Then the two of them began picking up the videos and stacking them.

Nate grabbed the video and his change, turned on his heel and stalked out of the store, ignoring the indignant “Hey!” of the person behind him when he neglected to hold the door open. He leaned against the brick wall and inhaled the fishy smell of the spring breeze, carried from Boston Harbor.

Josey and her new friend seemed to be bonding quite nicely. He’d just wait for her here.

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