You're a Ghost, So Why Can I See You?

“Peyton! Your break’s over! Get lazy butt back to work!”

I groaned and finished washing my hands. Once I was done, I stared at myself in the mirror for a few moments, not wanting to go back out front. I pulled my long, soft brown hair back into a ponytail, slapped on a yellow Subway! Eat fresh!cap, and then left the bathroom.

I hated my job. It wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t the best either. I probably didn’t even have an excuse to be complaining. I only worked part time, the customers weren’t all that bad, and I’ve gotten to know a lot of people. For example, old lady Mrs. Grey, who comes in every other afternoon, likes a meatball sub on wheat, has five grandchildren and two of whom she can’t stand, and a husband who she knows is cheating on her with a twenty-two year old slut. Meanwhile, old man Barton always joins Mrs. Grey every other afternoon as a “friend”, even though I know he’s putting the moves on her. And even though Barton knows Mrs. Grey is married, he’s still a really good old guy. If you asked my opinion, I’d say that Mrs. Grey needed to dump her husband and hook up with Barton. But hey, that’s just me.

“Where have you been?!” Mr. Platt demanded as I walked out in front. There were only a few people in the place eating at their tables, and no one was standing in line thankfully. “I’ve been calling you for the past ten minutes!”

I pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and grimaced. “I’m sorry, Mr. Platt, but it’s, you know, that time of month for me and I-”

“Enough,” he said, cutting me off. “I don’t want to hear about it and I don’t care. You know what I do care about though? You making delicious subs for our customers, that’s what. Now quit blabbing and get back to work.”

I nodded and Mr. Platt scuttled away to the back room. Mr. Platt was always uncomfortable when girls talked about their time of month. I wasn’t sure whether it was just because he was a guy or the fact that he had four teenage daughters. Probably both. I’m sure all that estrogen was getting to him…

“Pssst, Peyton.”

I blinked as my eyes refocused to see Barton waving his hand in front of my face. Why he was whispering, I don’t know. “What?” I whispered back.

He motioned over towards the tables with his head. “Barbara… How is she today?”

A slow smile crept across my lips. “Mrs. Grey is just fine today. She seemed a little too happy though when she was getting her sub.”

Barton smiled and nodded. “So you think it’s a good day to maybe ask her out to dinner?”

I rolled my eyes. Barton was always talking about asking Mrs. Grey out, but he never did. “Any day would be a good day. Especially today. Just take a deep breath and relax. She’ll say yes.”

“But she’s married…” he added uncertainly.

“Yeah, okay, maybe she won’t say yes… But you never know! She really likes you, I can tell! What harm is there in just taking a chance though? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Barton thought about it for a moment, and then smiled at me. “You’re right, Peyton. Geez you’re smart. And have I told you lately how beautiful you are?”

I rolled my eyes again. “Yes, Barton, and thank you. You told me that yesterday.”

“I still can’t understand why you don’t have a million guys chasing after you…”

I groaned. “Please. Don’t start this again.” Everyone was always saying how they couldn’t believe I didn’t have a boyfriend or someone. I knew I was pretty, but I wasn’t thatpretty, even though everyone said I was. I was smart, had a good personality, and I was independent of myself.

“I’m just saying,” Barton continued. “that maybe you’re waiting for someone that doesn’t exist. A soul mate is a pretty rare thing to be waiting your whole life for.”

I glared at him. “I’m not waiting for my soul mate.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “Then what are you waiting for? I know there are some hot hunks in your school. What’s wrong with them?”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile as he said “hot hunks”. It’s really weird to hear an old man say that. “Nothing’s wrong with them,” I said. “I just… I don’t really know. I just don’t feel that spark with anyone. I’m not attracted to any one of them I guess.”

Barton cocked an eyebrow. “Not attracted to anyone? Hey, maybe you’re asexual. That’d be a shame. Someone as amazing as you.”

I tried to hold in a laugh, but I couldn’t help it. “Asexual?” I asked laughing. “Are you kidding? I’m not asexual, trust me.”

He shrugged. “Hey, you never know. You’re not attracted to girls are you?” I shook my head. “See! And you’re not attracted to guys either! I’m telling you, you should look up some stuff about it.”

“Barton,” I said, now tired of this conversation, “I am attracted to guys, okay? I just haven’t found one that I am attracted to yet… or something like that.”

RING RING!

Barton and I both looked over to the door to see who walked in. It was a group of young teenage girls, fifteen maybe. They were all dressed in pink, white, and glitter. Short skirts, tank tops, big purses, jewelry, you get the picture. They stood in front of the counter and looked up at the menu above.

“Not one of them?” Barton asked with a smirk.

I glared at him. “No, and go away. You’re going to make me lose my job.”

Barton chuckled to himself then walked away slowly with his cane over to where Mrs. Grey was sitting. After ten long minutes, the group of girls finally ordered and I made their sandwiches. To be completely honest, they were total bitches. They kept whining about how I needed to hurry up and put the right amount of nonfat ranch dressing on. I mean, please! I was going as fast as I could! Plus, I was the only one working.

“Keep the change,” the last girl said smugly. “God knows you’ll need it when you get fired.”

It was hard not to throw the change at her head as she walked away. I wanted to though. I wanted to so, so bad. And who knows? I might have done it, too, if the door bells hadn’t jingled.

I turned my head to glare at whoever just ruined my plan, and froze when I saw who it was. My heart jumped a little and my mind went blank. Walking in the door was the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen in my life. He had slightly tanned skin, messy honey blond hair, and brown eyes. He looked to be about 6 feet tall and had an amazingbody. His white washed jeans fit him nicely, as did his black T-shirt, and his old beat-up converse.

He frowned at me slightly and walked up to the counter. “Did I do something?”

I blinked. “Uh, what?”

He grinned, showing perfectly white and straightened teeth. “You looked very…angry when I walked in just now.”

I brushed my bangs out of my face and laughed lightly in embarrassment. “Oh, no, I was just uh, thinking of something and you happened to walk in at the wrong time. I wasn’t glaring at you, promise.”

He continued to smile, staring into my brown eyes, and then shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the menu above. “So what’s good here?”

My eyebrows rose. “You’ve never been here before?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “Nope. I was just driving by and thought I’d stop by for once.”

I took a deep breath and glanced at the menu, then back at him. “The spicy Italian on cheddar and herbs is really good. It’s my favorite at least. You might not like it though.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Okay then. I’d like a footlong.”

I couldn’t help but smiling. My heart was beating wildly and I could barely think straight. “Coming up.” After I made the sub, he paid for it but lingered for a moment.

“I don’t believe I ever caught your name…?” he asked.

Oh my god. What’s my name?! Think, think, think! “Uh…Peyton. Peyton Porter.”

“I’m Ian,” he said with a to-die-for-smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Peyton.”