You Can’t Buy Love

Author's Note - A short something to tide you guys over while I work on the other stories. I may end up continuing and adding on to this, but who knows. Hope you like.

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So I was standing in aisle eight, staring at the different varieties of ramen noodles. My roommate, Rick, wanted the chili kind, but I did not see any chili flavored ramen noodles. There were plenty of chicken and beef and shrimp, but no chili. I wondered if maybe I should find someone who works here and ask them, but I really didn’t want to. Well, I could ask that guy that was only a few feet away, stocking boxes of macaroni and cheese on the shelf, but he was busy and I didn’t want to bother him, plus I have that thing where I get nervous talking to people I don’t know. So I stood there, staring at the noodles, and wondered whether Rick would want me to buy the chicken flavor, or if he would rather go without. I don’t know why I was supposed to buy Rick’s groceries. He apparently thought that ‘gay’ meant ‘like a woman, and thus, enjoys shopping’ which wasn’t true. Though, to be honest, I was just happy that Rick was okay with my gayness (and that I was okay with his laziness).

“Can I help you with something?” Stock Boy interrupted my thought tangent. I glanced at him, noting the messy brownish-blond hair that was just a little long, and it was kind of covering one of his eyes. He was wearing these cute little dorky glasses with black rims, and a dark blue “Price Chopper” work shirt. He wasn’t wearing a nametag, though, like the other employees I’d seen.

“I was looking for the chili flavored ramen noodles, but there aren’t any,” I told him. As soon as those words left my mouth, I realized that it sounded kind of dumb. Well, if there aren’t any, why are you just standing there like an idiot, Icarus? Oh, god, yes, my parents were obviously high on several drugs when it came time to name me. I mean, Icarus? I go by Ike, which isn’t much better, but it’s an improvement on a mythological name based on a character that most people remembered because of the way he died.

“Yeah, we ran out of those yesterday. I guess a shipment is going to be in next week,” Stock Boy said. He brushed a little of his hair out of his eyes and sort of grinned at me. I got this really weird feeling in my stomach for some reason and I could feel myself start to blush.

“Do you go to Keene State?” Stock Boy asked. I nodded, too afraid to speak, because, knowing my luck, I would probably squeak or something equally embarrassing.

“That’s awesome. Are you a…” he began, but was interrupted when a loud, somewhat urgent, female voice came over the intercom.

“Sullivan Michaels to the front end please!” the Voice said. Stock Boy looked at me apologetically.

“It was nice talking to you, but my Supervisor beckons!” he said, and with that, he was gone. I was left there, somewhat confused. His name was Sullivan? That was almost as weird as Icarus! I decided that it really wasn’t worth thinking about, and went back to my groceries. I decided to buy the chicken flavored ramen noodles and hope that Rick didn’t care. If he did, then I’d make him come back here and buy the damn noodles.

I found the rest of the food on the shopping list without any trouble and went to pay. As it was a weekend, all of the registers were opened and there were lines on all of them… except the one at the end. So I walked over there and started unloading the groceries from the cart onto the belt.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” a familiar voice asked. I looked up, and the cashier was none other than Stock Boy – err, I mean Sullivan. According to his nametag (which he was now wearing), his name was spelled Sullyven. What were his parents on when he was named?

“Yeah,” I answered, trying not to blush. What was my problem? I didn’t even know this guy and I was acting like I was in love or something. It was embarrassing.

“It’s too bad about the chili ramen noodles,” he said, “Do you actually like those?” he asked, meanwhile ringing my groceries through.

“They’re not for me; they’re for my roommate,” I answered, “that’s all he ever eats.” Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. Occasionally Rick would steal my Fruit Loops and have some, but I don’t think Sullyven really cared.

“Your roommate has weird taste,” he told me. I nodded.

“You’re telling me. He keeps telling me how that girl from Grey’s Anatomy is like ‘so hot!’ and I have to keep reminding him ‘hello, I don’t like girls’,” I said. And then it was oops, I just told a random, albeit cute, near stranger that I’m gay. Please, give me my ‘loser’ badge now. Luckily, though, there was no one behind me in line, so only Sullyven had heard me.

“Is he okay with it though?” Sullyven wanted to know. He looked over at me.

“Oh, yeah, Rick doesn’t care about that,” I replied, “I mean, well, he knows but it doesn’t bother him. I told him I’m not interested in him anyway,” I added. This conversation was becoming more comfortable, and I didn’t feel completely weird about telling all this stuff to a stranger.

“That’s lucky for you then,” he said, and went back to ringing my groceries through, “when my roommate found out, he requested a new room, and they haven’t had time to give me a new roommate yet. So I’m living in a double all by myself,” he told me. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say to that.

“Do you have a Price Chopper card?” Sullyven asked, after a somewhat awkward silence. I dug into my pocket and handed him my card. He scanned it and gave it back.

“That will be 87.36,” he told me. I swiped my credit card in the machine, and he printed out my receipt for me.

“Sign here please,” he said, and I had to sign my whole name because my stupid mom wouldn’t put “Ike” on the credit card. I handed the receipt back to Sullyven and he looked at where I’d written my name.

“Your name is Icarus?” he asked, looking amused.

“Not by choice, I promise,” I told him, “I just go by Ike. I don’t know what my parents were on when I was named,” I added. Sullyven smiled.

“You’re telling me. It wasn’t bad enough that my name is Sullyven, but my mom thought it would be so cool if she could spell it differently. It’s annoying, actually,” he said, handing me my receipt. I nodded and went to grab my cart with my groceries in it.

“Listen, um, Ike,” he said, and I turned back to look at him, “Do you think maybe we could, um, get together sometime? I mean, it doesn’t have to be like a date or anything, but just hanging out or something,” he asked me. Oh my god, no way.

“I… uh, sure, I guess,” I said.

“Can I have your number?” he asked. I couldn’t help smiling as I wrote my phone number for him on a spare piece of paper.

As I left the store, I thought that I would definitely like grocery shopping from now on.