The Dare
Flash Fiction
Brent dumped the boxes onto the counter, his ears heating almost painfully as they toppled off of one another, clattering like he’d dropped a handful of cutlery into a metal bowl. Or maybe it only sounded like that inside his head. Why was he doing this again?
As the last tiny, extremely conspicuous box came to a standstill, Brent risked a glance at the cashier. Dark eyes danced over the array of merchandise, then darted up to meet his own. Even white teeth bit down on a soft full lower lip as the cashier reached out to scan the first box, his voice carefully casual as he asked, “Find everything all right?”
Oh God, Brent was going to kill Baz and Abby. “Yeah,” he mumbled, his eyes darting back and forth, trying to find something to fasten on. Something other than the twenty boxes of condoms he was buying.
“Having a party?” the unfairly attractive cashier asked, one eyebrow raised, and Brent decided that killing Baz and Abby would have to wait. He was going to die right here of embarrassment.
“No!” he blurted. “These are… it’s a dare. I’ve never… I mean, I don’t…” He trailed off, his face burning. God, Brent, shut up.
The harsh fluorescent lighting reflected off the glitter swept across the cashier’s eyelids, adding to the sparkle in their brown depths. Most people looked pale and ghastly under such light, but he… didn’t. In fact, he was quite possibly the most beautiful person Brent had ever seen. Which really made this so much worse.
Long elegant fingers carefully picked up each box, turning it over to examine it before scanning. Was he taking this long on purpose? Brent tried to glare at him, but he just couldn’t. How was it legal for someone to be so attractive?
“It’s okay, really.” Even with suppressed laughter in his voice, the cashier still managed to sound kind. His smile was gentle now, with no hint of mocking censure.
Brent swallowed hard, dropping his gaze again. His eyes were caught by the cashier’s name tag: Felix. That wasn’t a name you heard every day. Searching for something to say, he gestured vaguely toward it. “Your name is Felix?”
White teeth flashed in a brilliant smile. “Yep. That’s me.”
“I’m Brent.” He ran a hand through his unruly hair and rubbed at the back of his neck. Now why had he said that? People didn’t usually go around offering their names to cashiers in convenience stores. Except that this was not a usual occurrence, at least not for him. And it just felt right.
“Brent.” His name sounded surprisingly good on Felix’s lips. Dropping the last box into a plastic bag, Felix punched up the total with a flourish. “Will that be cash, debit, or credit today?”
“Debit please.” Brent fumbled his card out of his wallet, and passed it over the Flash reader. As it beeped, he tried to think of something else to say, some way to keep this conversation going without looking like a complete idiot. Well, more than he already did.
Felix pulled the receipt free and, instead of handing it over, laid it on the counter and grabbed a pen. “This is my number,” he said, writing on the back of the paper. “Call me.”
“I… uh…” Brent took the receipt with trembling fingers, staring open mouthed at the inked digits. Say something, Brent!
“Hey.” Felix leaned forward and laid a hand over Brent’s, sending a jolt of electricity up his arm. “I’m off at 9 if you wanna go grab a coffee or something.”
“O–okay.” Trying to keep his breathing steady, Brent met Felix’s eyes, and couldn’t look away. “That sounds… great. Really nice.”
Slowly straightening, Felix trailed his fingertips over Brent’s hand as he pulled back. “I look forward to it.”
“Yeah. I — me too.” Flashing Felix a smile, Brent grabbed his bags and fled. He’d be back though. He wouldn’t miss it for anything.
Esther learned to read when she was four years old, and began writing shortly thereafter. She is a queer Christian poet, crafting with words to create art and music.