How Will I Know: The 80s Baby Series

by C Lesbirel

  How Will I Know

  C. Lesbirel

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © C.Lesbirel2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  Editor: Pam Gonzales @Love2ReadRomance

  Cover Design: Dee Ellis

  Formatting: Flamingo Formatting

  How Will I Know?

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Zack

  2. Lizzie

  3. Zachary

  4. Lizzie

  5. Zack

  6. Lizzie

  7. Zack

  8. Lizzie

  9. Zack

  Zack

  The only possible thing to smile about is the fact that it’s Friday, and that means two things. One, the shop will be busy, so my shift will fly by. Two, the cute brunette will be in to pick out her romance movies again.

  She’s out of my league, that’s for sure. If we’re being honest here, she’s probably out of every guy in Pine Grove’s league, but just looking never did any harm.

  “That delivery isn’t going to sort itself, Zackary,” my manager barks from behind his cigar.

  “I was just about to do it.”

  “No, you weren’t. You were daydreaming again. It’s a wonder anything ever gets done around here when you spend most of your shift with your head in the clouds.”

  There was no point arguing. He couldn’t be described as reasonable at the best of times. Instead, I go to work unpacking the new delivery and set aside the newest stack of girly smut. It was habit more than anything. In fact, I’d be better off hiding them on all the wrong shelves so she would have to spend ages looking for them. Then I would get to stare at her peachy ass for the extra minutes it took her to find them.

  Instead, I finish up slotting the others into position before heading to the romance section and placing the three new videos face forward.

  Standing back, I regard the covers and wonder which one she will go for first. Out of Africa, A Room With a View or Jagged Edge. Deciding on the first, due to her Meryl Streep obsession, I jump back behind the counter and busy myself by sorting through the rental returns.

  The door flies open, and I pretend not to notice when she strolls in. A vision in purple lycra leggings, orange crop and matching shell suit jacket. However much I struggle to find an imperfection on her perfect body, it’s impossible. She’s a rainbow. An optical illusion dressed in bright lycra that clings to the peaks and pits of her body the way I could only dream of doing.

  For a fleeting second, her eyes meet mine, and my heart squeezes in my chest as deep greens burn through my blues.

  “Are you hoping the trash fairy is going to come and wave a wand over that pile of packaging?” Could he ever just outright ask me to do something? Maybe it’s time I looked around for another job because working for Rick the Dick is becoming less appealing by the minute.

  When he lets out a cough that’s intended to hurry me along, I force myself to tear my eyes away from the hottest chick in Pine Grove and pick up the pile of trash. Before I do, I don’t miss that she grabs Out of Africa, and my lips curl with a small smile. Meryl Streep. I knew it. It’s embarrassing that knowing this small piece of information about her lights me up inside. As though me being able to guess this from a likely one in three chances means that we are fated to be together somehow. That even though she hasn’t realised it yet, one day she will be paying for her rentals and slip me her phone number over the counter on a pink Post-it note.

  Another cough and my jaw tenses as I regain my grip on the pile of trash and head outside to the dumpster. Pulling up the lid with one hand, I’m just about to dump the cardboard and clingfilm inside when I hear a loud meowing noise.

  What the hell? The smell is grody to the max, so I pull my Planet Movie hoodie up to my eyes in an attempt to stop myself from throwing up and peep inside. My stomach knots when I find five pairs of eyes staring up at me.

  “Assholes,” I say out loud, pulling the cardboard box containing the kittens out of the dumpster and pause to regard the tiny balls of fluff before I set them down.

  Big mistake.

  As soon as I lock eyes with the smallest of the bunch, the little thing becomes a lion. Meowing as loudly as possible, like she’s trying to tell me something.

  “Not happening,” I mumble to myself but already know I’m screwed because instead of setting the box of kittens down, I carry them inside.

  When I do, I see that the object of my affection is leaning over a stack of video’s, waiting to pay for her rental and to slip me that Post-it note with her number. Yeah right.

  As usual, I’m interjected by Rick the Dick who appears from nowhere and scowls at the box in my arms.

  “You’re supposed to be taking the trash outside, not bringing it in.”

  “It’s not trash; it’s kittens,” I explain.

  Before he can respond, a high-pitched shriek cries out, “Is that a box of kittens?”

  “Yeah, I just found them in the dumpster. I don’t know how long they’ve been in there, but I’m guessing they’re hungry from their noise.”

  “Can I see them? I love kittens.”

  Grinning, I carry the box over and set it down on the countertop. It’s the most words she’s ever spoken to me in one go, and the shy smile she usually gives me is replaced with an excited one that lights up her whole face.

  “You can’t just dump a bunch of kittens on my countertop, Zachary. You’re going to have to get them out of here.”

  “What exactly do you want me to do with them? They’re going to need at least something to eat. They’re probably starving.”

  “They’ll have to wait ‘til the end of your shift.” His tone is clipped and does nothing to hide his annoyance at the situation. “They’ll be fine outside until then.”

  “No way. I’ll take them,” my crush interrupts as she scoops up a tiger striped ball of fluff and tucks it inside her tracksuit top. It’s a turn on. Not the kitten, obviously. but the glimpse of her cleavage I get as she pulls open her shell suit jacket. My dick throbs in my jeans, and no sound comes out when I open my mouth to speak. She lets out a cute giggle that tells me she somehow knows exactly what she does to me.

  Lizzie

  What was I supposed to do? A bunch of kittens in need of a home is exactly the kind of unexpected surprise that never happens to someone like me. Scribbling my number on the back of a till receipt isn’t exactly my usual style, but I felt like if the cute guy who found the kittens was going to trust me with them, he should at least have my number in case he wants to check in later.

  Would he want to check in later?

  I mean, does a hot guy really care what happens to a box of dumpster kittens? Deciding yes because he got them out of there in the first place, I set the box down on my bedroom floor and lift them out one by one onto my pink fluffy rug.

  Running downstairs, I grab them some fresh water and rummage through the cupboards for anything that resembles cat food. All I can find is a couple of cans of tuna, so I take them along with the bowl of water back upstairs.

  Not a single kitten is on the rug when I get back to my room, and I thank God that my dad’s not home because he would freak out if he saw even one of them, never mind five. A pet is just another of the things that I haven’t been allowed growing up because of the mess associated with them and the threat of chaos they pose ag
ainst our perfectly structured life.

  Mom might come around to the idea of keeping one, if I could talk to her before Dad gets home but glancing around at the litter really drove home the point that I need to get out of Pine Grove sooner rather than later.

  If I had my own place, I would keep all of them in a heartbeat. But until I can earn some money of my own then I’m pretty much stuck here.

  A sinking feeling hits me right in the gut as I scoop out the tuna and sit down on the floor so the kitties can surround me. Two of them creep up and cuddle into me, while the other’s push their noses into the tuna fish and gobble as much of it up as they can.

  “There’s plenty more where that came from,” I murmur, stroking the head of the smallest one of the group who has found its way into my lap and is staring up at me with wide blue eyes.

  How can anyone be so cruel to toss them in the trash? Humans are dweebs most of the time. I think that’s the reason I prefer cats. Except for the guy at the rental shop, there hasn’t been another human I’ve been interested in for months. Not in that kind of way, anyway. I love to study humans. It’s what influences my characters and helps me to make them more realistic when I’m creating my screenplays. My English teacher once told me it’s my greatest gift. To take those most basic human behaviours and translate them onto the page, but it’s a curse at the same time because whether I like it or not, I’ve become such an expert at it that I literally dissect everyone I meet. Within five seconds of coming into contact with a new person, I can tell you at least ten things about their life.

  Very few people take me by surprise, so when the guy at the rental shop carried in these little cuties earlier, he had my attention. Coupled with the fact that his ocean eyes were shrouded in mystery, and the roughness of the skin on his hands meant he had a story to tell. He definitely has me wondering if he will call or not.

  I didn’t need to wonder for long because a few moments later, the phone rings, and I carefully scoop up the kitten from my lap, snuggling it to my chest as I bolt down the stairs and try to catch it before the housekeeper does.

  Too late. She picks up, and I cringe as she nods and says, “I see,” a couple of times, and then passes me a knowing grin. “It’s Zachary, for you.”

  “Zachary,” I whisper. The name suits him. Cool and sexy at the same time. Sexy? Since when did I describe anyone as sexy? But in the few seconds it takes for my brain to kick in and take the phone from her, I can’t think of any other fitting adjective. From his blonde floppy hair, to his chiselled jaw and broad shoulders, sexy was exactly the description he deserved. A million-character traits spring to mind as I frantically try to place him in one of my current plays but struggle to do so.

  “Thanks,” I say as I take the phone from her and head back upstairs, stretching the cord as far as I possibly can until there’s no curls left and it’s just a straight wire on the brink of snapping.

  Thankfully she takes the hint and saunters off toward the kitchen, but we both know this won’t be the last I hear of the call. It’s the first time a guy has ever called the house, and that in itself is a big deal.

  “Hey, I thought I’d better phone and say thanks for today.”

  “Hi,” I recognise his voice, but it’s still awkward now that we’re on the phone. Face to face I can take a little flirting, but a full conversation is totally a different ballgame.

  “How are the kittens doing?” Strictly business. He has called to find out about the kittens, nothing else. Fine. He is not my type, anyway.

  That’s a lie. I don’t have a type. Cats are my type...Or dogs.

  “They’re all great. I’ve given them food and water, and they are currently taking over my bedroom, but I can’t keep them.”

  “Me either. What shall we do? I was thinking maybe we could drop them at a shelter or something?”

  “Good idea.” It was the most practical solution, even if the thought of doing so made my heart sink a little.

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “Sure.” The single word flies out a little too fast, and I hope he doesn't get the wrong idea. It was a walk to the rescue center, not a date.

  “I can meet you at your place. Do you live near the mall?”

  “No,” I blurt out. “I mean, yes, but I’ll meet you at the mall. I’ll wait by the fountain at five.”

  “I’ll be there. Wait,” he says before we hang up. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” I say again and wonder how it is that an English student can be so lost for words when a boy becomes involved.

  “What’s your name?”

  A slow beam lights me up from the inside. He isn’t just calling because of the kittens.

  “Lizzie,” I reply and hang up before he gets a chance to say anything else.

  Zachary

  I see her first. She’s standing by the fountain in a pair of denim shorts and pastel blouse that’s knotted at her waist just high enough to give me a peek of her tiny waist. The fact that she’s changed gives me a glimmer of hope that she wants me to notice her, and I pass her a look that tells her I do.

  She flashes me one of her shy smiles, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sweeter sight than the image of her standing there holding the box of kittens I pulled from the dumpster earlier and eyeing me up and down.

  Running a hand through my hair, I stride forward and take the box from her.

  “Hey, Lizzie.” Her eyes shine when I say her name, and I grin as she replies.

  “Hey, Zackary.”

  “It’s just Zack. Unless you’re my parents.”

  “Oh. Okay, Zack,” she corrects herself.

  “It’s fine. When you look as cute as you do, I’ll answer to anything.”

  “Oh my God, was that a line? Are you really giving me a line already?”

  “It depends if you want me to. I have plenty more where that came from, but something tells me you’re not a line kind of girl.”

  “I’m not,” she insists.

  “Shall we drop these little guys off then?”

  “Yeah, I called ahead, so they’re expecting us.”

  “Cool. They’re a lot quieter now that they’ve got some food in their bellies.”

  “They are so cute. I hope some of them can stay together. It seems a shame to separate them.”

  “What about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

  “No, it’s just me.” She says it with sadness in the tone of her voice, as though she wishes that wasn’t the case, and I wonder what it’s like to grow up without siblings. Is she lonely? Does she have people she can turn to? “What about you?”

  “Six.”

  Her eyes widen in the usual shock people have when they find out I’m one of seven. “You have six brothers and sisters?”

  “Five sisters and one brother. I’m the oldest, and he’s the youngest. The girls are in between.”

  “That must be so much fun.”

  “Fun is one word for it.”

  We round the corner to the rescue shelter, and she halts to take one last peek inside the box.

  “Are you tempted to keep one.”

  “I’d love to, but there’s no way I could. My parents aren’t animal people.”

  I wonder what kind of people they are. Judging by the way she dresses and the confidence in her step, I’m guessing well off, but I know from experience that money doesn’t always equal happiness. From the brief moments that I’d observed Lizzie coming in and out of the store, I can guess she spends a lot of her time alone, and I detect there’s a lot more layers to this chick than a peachy tight ass and endless legs.

  “What about you? You wouldn’t want a kitten?”

  “There’s not much spare room at our place,” I admit. It was the understatement of the century. We are packed in our trailer like a can of sardines. There is barely space for all of us, never mind pets as well.

  We drop the kittens inside the rescue center and walk out with a sense of awkwardness between us. Befo
re, we were two people on a mission to carry out our joint good deed for the day. Now she’s the hot girl, and I’m the guy who usually wouldn’t have the balls to talk to her.

  “Do you wanna grab a shake? It seems a shame to head home when you’re all dressed up.”

  “I am not dressed up.”

  “Either way, you don’t look like someone who should be spending Friday night at home with Meryl Streep. You look like someone who should be hanging out at the arcade or the roller rink. So, I think we should grab a shake.”

  “How do you know I like Meryl Streep?”

  “Just a guess.” I shrug my shoulders, and she regards me for a second.

  “Why should I go for a shake with you?”

  “What? You want, like a reason?”

  “Yeah. I could go for a shake with any guy in this mall, so tell me why I should go for one with you.”

  “Because I see you, Lizzie.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “What I mean is I see through you. You might be the hottest girl in Pine Grove, but you don’t want some airhead guy who’s going to parade you around on his arm like a prize and worry more about who is watching him kiss you than actually kissing you.”

  “Are you always this forward?”

  “No, but you asked.”

  “Okay, so if you have me all figured out then what is it you think I want?”

  I try to contain my smile as we fall into step, and although she’s not agreed to go anywhere with me yet, we’re already heading back towards the mall side by side.

  “That’s easy.”

  She turns to narrow her eyes at me for a moment before fiddling with the knot on her top as we walk.

  “You want the fairy-tale.”