Page 3 of Sunset Catchers

“Err, sorry,” comes out of my mouth as a loud squeak. The attendant is still staring at me, pointedly.

It rattles my nerves. As I square off my shoulders to gain confidence, I am then possessed by a forty-year-old man. I say: “I’d like to, you know,” I click my tongue, “fill her up.” I end my statement by tapping the roof of my car with the hand attached to the arm leaning on the window frame.

Yeah.

I cringe.

He cringes.

The birds flying around cringe.

The attendant’s dark brows furrow.

“Okay..?” He sounds exasperated. I love when public service workers have zero interest in, well, helping the public.

I’m sort of annoyed.

“Sooo, are you available right now?”

His frown deepens, so does my annoyance. Maybe he needs some visual aid?

I hold eye contact for a few seconds. Follow my lead, my gaze says. My eyes rake down his body; he’s wearing a branded dark blue coverall, then I eye the pump.

His brows separate to fly up on his forehead.

Why is he looking at me as if I’m a princess expecting royal fucking treatment?

I just want him to do his job.

Of course this would happen when I’m trying something new. Gosh, I hate leaving my comfort zone.

The attendant takes a step in my direction; he appears to be borderline outraged. Now, I’m nervous. Did I read the sign wrong? Am I asking a complete stranger to fill up my car?

I look back toward the street; I do find a very real With service sign. Then, branded dark blue coverall. Gas pump. Sky blue eyes.

So, I’m not sure what’s happening here. Maybe he’s at the end of his shift? I push a strand of my curly hair behind my ear with slightly trembling fingers; it springs right back out.

His own focus takes on the same path mine did. The line of his shoulders is ramrod straight. He hangs his head. Then, finally, with a sigh: “Yeah, I’m available.”

I track the attendant warily as he comes toward my car, flips his hat over his head and leans down toward my window, putting us at an eye to eye level.

Our gazes introduce themselves to each other.

Oh.

The juxtaposition of his features is so very beautiful this close. It’s not that his face it the prettiest one I’ve ever seen. But it’s the sum of it all that strikes me.

It’s the blue eyes plus long lashes. It’s how his nose slopes straight toward well-hydrated lips. It’s the satisfying jawline. The slightly red tinged cheeks. He has a people-pleasing face. And when I squint just right, he sort of looks like both Jess and Dean from Gilmore Girls.

He blinks a few times, as if he’s inadvertently gazed directly at the sun. Maybe he has sensitive pupils; the sun is pallid today, not participating fully yet.

“Just fill her up to the brim, please,” I instruct, then let out a nervous chuckle that I cut short because it sounds stupid and his whole face scrunches up because he probably thinks it sounded stupid too.

Or maybe. Oh gosh! I have coffee breath! Shit!

He offers me a tight-lipped smile before turning on his feet and hurriedly getting on filling up my car with jerked movements.

Bubblegum flavored gum in my mouth to get rid of my bad breath, then, nothing. I’m unsure of what to do while I wait, so I track the growing amount on the screen and pull out some money from my wallet.