The Boy in the Flannel Shirt.

It started the same way that it ended: with a shirt. It was plaid flannel, with six clear buttons and a chest pocket. It was just the type of shirt that happened to accidentally be worn on the same day that everything accidentally happened. It was a memorable shirt, the kind that stuck out in a crowd. It was his shirt; everything about it just seemed to ooze his personality, from the scent to the geometrical squares.

The shirt was the only reasoned that I noticed him.

There are three things that attract me to men: flannel shirts, facial hair, and the I’m-totally-contemplating-life-and-finding-it-completely-fucking-ironic facial expression. At first, I could only see his back. I found myself distracted, staring at the red and black blocks of his shirt and the way that the tail hit just above the back pocket of his jeans. I was in the middle of analyzing the Vans logo on the back of his shoes when he turned around.

I quickly averted my eyes back to the shelves of books in front of me. I was supposed to be zoning the teen section of the bookstore, but my heart wasn’t really in it. Normally I loved zoning; what wasn’t there to like about mindlessly scanning books and moving them shelf to shelf? It was probably the easiest thing I had to do all day, but I still couldn’t get myself to focus.

I sighed while I moved a wisp of red hair out of my face. My bangs were getting too long, and they were starting to disrupt my line of vision. I was just thinking about when I was going to get a hair cut next when I heard the feet shuffle. I looked up automatically, and then looked down quickly when I noticed the boy in the flannel shirt was moving closer.

That’s what I called him from then on. The Boy in the Flannel Shirt. I didn’t know his name.

This was the first time I saw him; it was a Tuesday night, and it was slow. The bookstore was located strategically by JC Penny’s, which held a lot of traffic, but there was a large garden display blocking the entrance so we didn’t get much business. If it hadn’t been so slow, I might not have noticed; maybe I could have continued to stare at the spines of the books and think about grocery shopping and needing to redo my nail varnish.

But I did notice him, and that’s the point I’m trying to make.

He was turned to the side, staring at the California Maps laying haphazardly on the end cap. I was staring at the side of his face, taking in the facial hair that he probably hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and the bump in the middle of his nose. I know that makes me sound like I’m absolutely mental, but that’s really not the case. I just stared at him for a few seconds. I swear.

He turned fully towards me then, and I looked away in embarrassment. I thought I heard something like a chuckle come from his direction, but I wasn’t really sure. I returned to my books, scanning the barcode of some penny teen romance novel and moving it to the bottom shelf. I was stepping down from my stool when I heard the voice.

“Excuse me?” He asked. I could tell it was him because it was the kind of voice that I imagined him to have.

I blushed and turned around. “May I help you with something?” I offered.

“I was wondering where your poetry books were?” Score. He didn’t sound embarrassed for asking.

“Oh, they’re upfront. If you could just follow me…” I was leading him to the two shelves that were sandwiched between the Reading Lists and audio books. I stared at the two shelves with pity.

“We don’t have a large selection, but if you need anything specific we can probably order it for you.”

“Thank you,” he smiled in my direction, and I turned around and headed back towards my books. I had moved two whole shelves when he came back again. He cleared his throat loudly, and when I looked down he had a stack of books in his hand. I glanced over to the cash wrap, and it was empty.

“Are you ready to check out?” I asked politely, already stepping off of my stool.

“Thanks.” Was all he said in reply.

There’s about forty feet between the teen section and the register, and the entire time I was walking I could feel his eyes on my back. I tried my hardest not to blush.

I stepped behind the counter and punched my number in. He slid the books on the counter.

“Did you find everything all right?” I asked. If it were up to me, I couldn’t have said anything, but it was store policy.

“Yeah,” he nodded as he spoke. “Thanks.”

Well, he’s talkative, I mused inside of my head before scanning the books. He had four books; three Bukowski poetry selections and Revolution on Canvas 2.

“Your total is $42.12. Do you have a Barnes & Noble membership card? It will save you 10% off of your purchase today.” I offered.

“Nope,” he said simply, before sliding a fifty over the counter. I punched his total into the machine and started counting his change.

“$7.88 is your change. Have a nice day.” I stuck his receipt in the bag and sent him my shyest smile.

He nodded and grabbed the bag. I expected him to walk straight out of the store, without even looking back. He always seemed to surprise me, though.

I was turning around to head back my section. He was still standing there. I turned just a fraction to look at him, and his eyes caught mine. He said nothing, just smiled at me, and then turned to walk away.

My entire face erupted in flames.

The next time I saw him, it was at Target. I was there on a mission to buy shampoo, because I was almost out and I couldn’t stand greasy hair. I was walking through the front of the store, keys clutched in my hand, Vans slapping against the linoleum.

I had made it to the hair aisle when I saw him. He was standing in front of the display of flat irons with two other boys. They were all wearing skinny jeans and either V-necks or flannel shirts. His hair was messy, with odds and ends sticking up in different directions. His keys were hanging out the side of his pants and his phone was clutched in his hand.

It was times like these when I cursed Target for putting all of their hair accessories/products in the same aisle. I stepped in the aisle slowly, trying my hardest not to get noticed. He was a cute guy, I was a shy girl. I didn’t like talking to cute guys.

I didn’t like any confrontation with anyone remotely attractive. I’m not lying, either. I stopped going to Starbucks after this really attractive, gauged, tattooed guy name Adrian started working there. I just didn’t have it in me to look him in the eye when I ordered my white chocolate mocha.

As my luck would have it, The Herbal Essences shampoo happened to be conveniently located right across from the straighteners. Not the curling irons, not the hair dries, but the straighteners. The other thing also working in my favor was the fact that Target spaced their aisles about three feet apart, so there wasn’t enough room for me to get passed the boys without muttering a quick “Excuse me.”

I took a deep breath, and started heading towards my shampoo. For a second, I seriously contemplated switching to Pantene, because it was closer. Alas, I knew that I could not change my shampoo now; Herbal Essences had done me well in the past, and it wasn’t the shampoo’s fault that Target sucked at locating their hair products.

Within two steps, I had come to my dilemma. Though I was a slender girl, there was no room for me to slip past the boys without accidentally bumping into one of them. I mustered up my courage and muttered a soft, “Excuse me.”

The Boy in The Flannel Shirt looked up, surprised, before nodding quickly and stepping closer to the aisle. I didn’t look at him, just reached for my shampoo and conditioner, and started to make my way out of the aisle.

Apparently not fast enough, however, because I still heard their conversation.

“That’s the girl from the book store,” a voice said, and I figured it was The Boy in The Flannel Shirt, because he was the only one I had seen before.

“She’s hot,” Another voice interjected. I heard the unmistakable sound of skin on skin contact - I was guessing The Boy in The Flannel Shirt hit his friend.

“She is,” Another voice agreed, and there was another slapping sound.

I blushed, but continued my journey to the check out counter.

The third time I saw him, it was two weeks later. I was standing in line for Panda Express during my lunch break, fully ready to chow down on some rice and orange chicken. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I clutched my money happily.

I was late this morning, meaning I had to skip breakfast, so yeah, I was hungry.

It was a flash out of the corner of my eye - red hair and a flannel shirt. I looked around, startled, and then blushed when I saw him. He was standing at the end of the line, with the same two boys that I saw him with at Target.

I immediately turned face forward., hoping that they wouldn’t notice me. I was a mess anyway, with my hair up in a sloppy bun, wearing a white polo from my work, black skinny jeans, and Navy lo pro Vans.

Apparently they saw me, though, because I could hear their whispers two people up in line from them.

“Dude, there she is again!” One of them whispered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it was the tall, dirty blonde one with the chest tattoo.

“It’s fate!” The other one exclaimed over dramatically.

I could hardly contain my giggle as I saw him clutch his chest and pretend to cool him self down out of the corner of my eye. They were obnoxious, but funny.

The Boy in The Flannel Shirt shushed them. “She can probably hear you!” He pointed out, crossing his arms unhappily.

“And?” The blonde boy questioned. “that’s a good thing. Jesus, stop being such a pussy! Go talk to her, find out her name.”

The Boy in The Flannel Shirt looked hesitant. “What if she has a boyfriend?” He asked.

The brown haired boy shrugged. “You’ll never know until you ask. Or you stalk her on MySpace. We could do that, I guess, but you’d have to find out her name…”

The Boy in The Flannel Shirt sighed, exasperated, and then stumbled forward as his friends pushed him towards me. I attempted to contain another giggle, even though on the inside I was freaking out.

Cute boy? Come talk to me?

“Go man, go!” The blonde insisted, and a few seconds later The Boy in The Flannel Shirt was standing right next to me, his hands shoved in his pockets nervously.

“Hey,” he said, his voice sounding shaky and nervous.

I looked over at him as the lady in front of me stepped in front of the counter to order.

“Are you stalking me?” I asked him with a raised eyebrow, trying my hardest to contain my laughter. I was pretty sure he wasn’t stalking me (although you never know…) and I was just trying to give him a hard time.

“What?” He asked, his eyes wide, before shaking his head vehemently. “No, no! I’m not! I swear.”

At his bewildered expression, I started giggling. I used my hand to cover my mouth as my body shook with laughter.

“I know,” I finally managed to get out between laughs. “I just thought it was funny.”

The Boy in The Flannel Shirt looked relieved, before mocking anger. “Mhmm,” he said. “Sure. Didn’t have to be so mean.”

I rolled my eyes at him playfully, before shaking my head and turning towards the counter.

“I’m Nick,” he said suddenly, extending his hand for me to shake.

I turned and shook his hand. “Peyton.”

“Nice name,” he smiled at me, and I nodded and blushed.

Nick was a nice name too. Easier to say than The Boy in The Flannel Shirt.

“So, Peyton,” he started, after looking over at his friends, who were all gesticulating wildly with their hands. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” I said, my voice serious, even though I was joking.

He looked a little stunned. “Oh, um,” he stuttered, but I shook my head, giggling once more.

“No, I don’t.” I answered him honestly.

He looked relieved. “That’s cool,” he said, trying to act smooth. He wasn’t. Smooth, that is. At all.

The lady at Panda Express waved me up. I ordered quickly, before looking over at Nick, who was staring back at his friends as they mouthed pointers at him.

“Are you gonna order?” I asked, and he looked over at me, surprised.

“Huh?” He asked.

I motioned towards the lady, who was waiting for him impatiently. “Oh, yeah.”

He ordered quickly, and stood next to me as I slid my tray down the counter.

“So,” he started awkwardly. “Who are you eating lunch with?”

I looked over at him. “The Boy in The Flannel Shirt.”

He looked confused, and his eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”

“The Boy in The Flannel Shirt.” I repeated.

He looked around, turning to his friends, who I guessed had heard me. The blonde one rolled his eyes, before pointing to Nick’s shirt.

Nick looked down. “Oh. OH!” Realization was clear across his face.

“If that’s okay with you?” I asked him flirtatiously, stepping up to the register, ready to pay for my meal.

He nodded a few times, smiling at me. “Yeah, that’s fine. Totally.”

I laughed at his nerves, and waited for him as he paid for his meal. We walked towards a two seating table and set out trays down.

Nick looked nervous, which made me kind of nervous but made me laugh at the same time.

Conversation was awkward, but still fun. He made me giggle because he kept on stuttering.

At the end of my lunch, we parted ways. He gave me a hug, and asked for my number, but I just shook my head at him.

“You’ve gotta work for it,” I said with a smile on my face.

He came in the book store every day for six days, but I guess this time it was intentional.

On the sixth day, I tucked a receipt with my number into the pocket of his shirt.