Bumping Heads to See Beyond the Clash

The first time I saw her, she was in the beauty department.

It wasn't my fault. I couldn't help but stare. Her hair was curled so perfectly that it seemed to defy gravity, and every hair on her head shone like a polished gem. Her skin glowed just as brightly, as if it had been buffed to perfection, and even from across the aisle, I could see her eyes sparkle. It was all too perfect for words.

I stared for a long time, too long. After a few minutes, she noticed me and glared at me with such intensity that I felt my eyeballs melting in my skull. I quickly looked away, and after a minute or two of walking around aimlessly, I decided to leave without buying anything. That would be the last time we ever spoke.

It didn't take long before I found myself back at the Target, wondering why I couldn't get that girl out of my head. She was so beautiful that it was hard not to stare at her; yet she seemed to hate me merely for looking at her. Even though she had no idea who I was, she actively tried to make my life more difficult. It made me feel both irate and intrigued at the same time.

I soon discovered that she worked in the Starbucks right next to the entrance of Target's beauty department. It was so convenient! Why couldn't we work closer together? As much as it infuriated me, I enjoyed seeing her every day, even if our interactions were limited to only staring into each other's eyes for a few minutes before turning away as quickly as possible.

At some point, however, things began to change between us. When we glanced at each other from across the store or from across opposite ends of an aisle, instead of glaring at each other we would smile shyly and look down at our feet sheepishly. Then one day when we bumped into each other at an intersection in Target's main hallway, I offered her a handkerchief to wipe off the coffee she had spilled on herself while trying to walk past me and dropping her purse in the process. She accepted it gratefully, then gave me a wink before leaving with a skip in her step that made my heart flutter wildly in my chest.

We started talking more often after that encounter, usually whenever we crossed paths while doing our respective jobs (hers being in Starbucks and mine in the beauty department). We would talk about our lives before working at Target (her studying art history in college and me still being stuck in high school), about how much we love Target despite hating most everything else about living in this century (the lack of personal privacy on social media; the overabundance of selfie sticks), and about how annoying everyone else is who works at Target except for each other (especially those people who post selfies with their arm around the world's most boring mannequin while buying shampoo). That last one usually made us laugh so hard that Destiny's co-worker Graham would give us odd looks whenever he walked by our station during one of our conversations (and believe me when I say they were many).

After working together for almost two months, Destiny invited me out for drinks with some friends after work one night. Naturally I accepted her invitation immediately; what red-blooded male wouldn't want to spend time getting drunk with a girl as drop-dead gorgeous as Destiny? Not only that but she seemed genuinely nice too! No wonder Graham looked so confused whenever he saw us laughing together - he probably thought there was no way someone like Destiny could have anything nice to say about people like us (or perhaps just about me).

The next afternoon at work, we ran into each other again - this time near Target's exit doors when both of us were taking our lunch break outside. She told me my tie was crooked - which it was - and fixed it for me without any sexual innuendo whatsoever ("Could you straighten your tie? You look ridiculous" did not translate well into "let me put my hands on your chest"). Even better than that - it didn't seem like she had any ulterior motives behind fixing my tie! She just wanted to help! What a sweetheart! Before either one of us left to go eat lunch alone outside again (my mom insisted on home-cooked meals every night), Destiny gave me another wink before turning around and walking towards Starbucks while humming an upbeat tune under her breath ("You sure are fast," did not translate well into "you're making my knees weak").

After leaving work early due to having caught a fever from being outside during lunch without wearing sunscreen even though it was ninety-five degrees outside during what would turn out to be one of California's hottest summers in recorded history (ugh...), I spent most of Sunday lying around on my couch feeling miserable but happy thanks to taking three doses of DayQuil within twenty minutes after waking up (thanks guys!), until finally deciding to see if Destiny wanted to hang out sometime during our mutual break times.