The One-way

I met Jared at a gasoline station and, I don't know why, trusted him immediately.
Maybe it was because he was only moderately good-looking (and I had this philosophy of not trusting overly pretty guys). But it was most likely because he had this look about him.
The look of runaways.
The look he and I shared.
So as I watched him, conversing with the adjacent convenience store's cashier, no doubt trying to get out of paying for candy--or maybe cigarettes, I decided I had to meet him.
I entered the store. The clink of door chimes sent both their looks my way, the cashier's, a bit dazed, quite close to giving in to Jared's charms.
Jared only graced me with a curious expression before shifting back to the cashier.
"I'm telling you, I live five blocks away."
The cashier had enough sense to say, "Sir, we're in the desert."
"Oh. Yeah."
That was true. We were in the outskirts of Las Vegas. That was where I was headed.
"Hey, Darren." I called.
Jared's back tensed, sensing my purpose. The cashier's name tag plainly said, HI I'M SKIPPY!
He turned to me. "Kris." he acknowledged.
"Fancy meeting ya here."
"Although not really. I mean 'cuz we live nearby."
"Amen that."
We gave Skippy time to process that information. Jared/Darren said, "See? Told you I lived nearby" and the deal was done. He assured the cashier that he'd be back tomorrow with money because, silly him, he'd forgotten his wallet. The cashier gave us final mistrustful looks before we left.
Under the doorframe, Jared thrust his arm across my shoulders and I had to wait until we were just five steps away from my car before I shook it off.
"What the hell was that for?" I demanded, turning to look Jared square in the face--difficult, because I was sure his head practically skimmed the sky and I was a little better than a pixie.
He scratched his hair. "That was theatrical effect. Besides, you needed it." I stared at him furiously until he explained, "If he didn't think you were taken, he'd have showed up at your door first thing tomorrow, swearing never to leave until you blood promise that you'll go out with him. And with your luck?" he looked at me like he was about to reveal an inconvenient truth. "You'd probably get raped."
I shook my head. I was pretty sure Skippy's views on me were purely indifferent--indifferent and negative. "What did you mean with my luck?"
"Well, you met me. You must be severely unlucky."
I had to agree. I snorted, "Amen."
Jared frowned. "You keep saying that. You're not Catholic, are you?"
"Is that a bad thing?"
Jared nodded, and he smiled. "Yeah, I'd feel bad about abducting a sweet little Catholic."