Page 17 of The Devil

When I gather the bills from the counter, I notice a plastic container. I place the cash in the register, wondering whose it is.

Mr. Oliveira gets a bottle of water and brings it to the counter. He stopped buying coffee two nights ago. He sets the bottle down, then pushes the container closer to me.

“I made extra and thought you might like some.”

Surprised, I hesitate before I lift the lid enough to see inside. It’s stacked full of golden-fried pasties.

“It’s a Portuguese dish,” he informs me. “Try one.”

They look yummier than anything I’ve had since Mom and Aunt Sherrie moved away. I can’t resist and carefully pick up one of the half-moon-shaped pastries. I sniff first, and when it smells delicious, I take a small bite.

It’s crispy, and tasting chicken and mushrooms, I almost let out a moan.

God. So good.

I take a much bigger bite and quickly devour the entire thing.

When I wipe my fingertips on my shirt, my eyes move from the container to Mr. Oliveira, whose breaths are coming faster. There’s a look that can only be described as desire on his face, and it makes the alarm bells go off inside my head.

For the longest moment, he stares at me, and I experience a weird mixture of feeling flattered and utterly self-conscious.

My heartbeat speeds up again, but this time it isn’t just out of fear but anticipation as well.

Then he breaks eye contact as he removes his credit card out of his wallet. Not thinking, my arm darts out, and I place my hand on his to stop him.

I shake my head to indicate I don’t want him to pay, and as tingles race up my arm, I slowly pull away.

He moves fast and captures my hand, but his hold isn’t tight. Then his thumb brushes over my skin, making more tingles scatter through me like little fireworks.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies erupts in my stomach, and more nervous energy pours into my chest.

“Jenna.” He waits for me to lift my gaze to his, then he says, “I want you to think of me as a friend.”

The corner of my mouth lifts slightly, but I’m too anxious to smile.

When he lets go of my hand, I quickly pull back and form fists to hide my nails that have been bitten to the quick.

He taps the lid of the container. “Eat everything. Okay?”

I nod and pull it closer to me. My lips part to thank him, but all that comes out is a puff of air before my throat threatens to close up.

Mr. Oliveira takes the bottle of water and begins to walk away, but he stops by the open door and glances back at me. “Have a good night, Jenna. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

This time, I’m able to smile, even though it's shaky.

He looks at me as if I’m from a different planet, and the smile dies on my lips. I bow my head, my fingers curling around the sides of the container.

I hear his footsteps as he walks away, and soon after, the SUV’s door shuts.

I peek up from between my bangs, and like every other night, he doesn’t drive away immediately.

I don’t know what he does in the SUV, but knowing he won’t come into the store again tonight, I sit down on the stool and exhale a heavy breath.

As I stare at the container holding the delicious pastries, I wonder why he brought them to me. It’s not like we know each other. I mean, I haven’t even talked to him.

Still, I feel grateful because he thought of me, and I’m too poor to look a gift horse in the mouth.

My thoughts turn to before Mr. Oliveira got here, and just thinking of Derek, Wayne, and Kirk makes me feel as if the weight of the entire world rests on my shoulders.