Disengaged

He smiled, which didn’t do a damned thing to bring my pulse back down.

“Hi.” There was a hint of shyness in his voice and the brief downward shift of his gaze. “I, um…” He furrowed his brow, looking at some of the watches between us, something apparently catching his eye. I took advantage of his momentary distraction to drink in the sight of him, if only for a second longer. Just below his lapel was a sleek black nametag with the logo for Christy’s, the swanky bar across the street from the mall. Under the logo, in white lettering, Jeremy. I could certainly see why my co-workers went there for after-work drinks all the time. The scenery alone was worth it.

Before I’d stared for an awkwardly long time, I said, “Is there something I can help you find?” At least the automatic words came in spite of my dry mouth and tied tongue. I wasn’t so sure I could improvise anything at the moment.

“Yeah, I…” A watch held his attention for another second before he met my eyes, and a hint of color darkened his cheeks.

“Looking for a Rolex?”

Jeremy shook his head. “Actually, I’m looking for…” Another downward flick. Eye contact again. More color. He cleared his throat. “An engagement ring.”

Of course he is. All the hot ones are here for engagement rings. I resisted the urge to groan aloud. Thanks, universe. That is one sick, sick joke, you know that?