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The town of La Push was peacefully sleeping.

Or at least it was, until the Clunker and I rolled down the streets, making a heck of a commotion.

Oh, how I love the smell of ticked Indians in the morning.

I turned into the only market's parking lot and noticed that there was only one other car present; Some old looking, rusty red Volkswagen. The only way I could tell was by the logo on the front. At seeing this, I felt a little better. Maybe all the cars in La Push were junk.

I shrugged half-heartedly and pulled into a parking space.

I pulled the keys from the ignition, tossed them into my bag and jumped the mile from the Clunker to the ground. I landed smoothly, my feet barely making a sound.

And she sticks the landing!

I jogged up to the store's door hungrily, anticipating the different sweet breakfast items I could find there.

I swung the door open, and a little bell dinged. I hate stores with doors that ding.

I looked around the practically empty store, consisting only of one cashier and some person at the back of the store, whose head could be seen over the edges of the aisles.

Dang, La Pushians were tall.

I wondered around the little store, first searching for the basics -- milk, eggs, butter, and the likeness. After recovering those, I searched for the little racks of doughnuts and muffins that stores have in the corners, usually promoting an athlete, munching on some healthy, yummy, doughnuts!

Oh the irony.

After retrieving my breakfast, I walked up to the cashier dude and asked if I could eat it while I shopped, if I promised to pay for it. He agreed, and I made a slight mental note to remember to spare that cashier when I freak out and terrorize La Push.

And so I munched my sweet doughnuts in all of their powdered glory. Ah, bliss.

Such bliss, in fact, that I wasn't paying attention and ran smack dab into the only other customer present. I had turned with such force, and the stranger's body was just so hard that I literally bounced off of his chest. I mean, like a monumental transfer of momentum!

The stranger caught me before I could crush the innocent display of bananas I was headed for, which brought me to look up at his face (This required quite a bit of straining on my part. Like I said, freaking tall).

The first thing I noticed was that he was HOT.
I'm talking, capital H double T Hott.

It was then that I came back to the present.

"Umm…" I mumbled, making powdered sugar shoot from my mouth onto his shirt.

Crap.

He chuckled and wiped it off.

I swallowed and carefully made sure that my mouth was thoroughly free of powdered evil before trying to speak again, "So… Thanks for preventing my death by banana."

I grinned stupidly and gestured toward the still-perfect stack of bananas on the counter.

He laughed again.

"Thank you for spitting powdered sugar all over my shirt," he replied, his husky voice somewhat alluring, "It gave me a reason to talk to you."

Oh, so he thinks he's smooth, huh?
Well, you haven't met Heather the unfriendly ghost.

I burst out laughing, which, I must say was slightly inconsiderate. But I purely just hated it when guys tried to act cool, and smooth, and use corny pick-up lines. Those only work in movies. And that's if the plot sucks.

And at that, I grabbed my purchases, dropped some money at the register, and turned on my heel, headed straight back to the Clunker. I flung the groceries into the back, climbed into the thing, and had an enjoyable ride home, listening to 80's rock music and head-banging at headlights.