A Convenient Change of Plans

My gaze snapped up to the nonplussed expression of the cashier, and I realized he was only about my age. He looked vaguely familiar, and I wondered for a moment if he might be a student at my college.

I’d driven halfway back to campus but was only a third of the way through the playlist of boy-hating songs I’d cued up. It was a far cry from the love-song-heavy one I’d blasted on the way to the party as I psyched myself up to finally tell Nolan how I felt about him. What a difference two hours could make.

I’d left my dorm room tonight wearing the cutest outfit, shiny new lip gloss, and my heart on my sleeve.

I was confident.

I was hopeful.

I was an idiot. I should have known better than to hope for this Valentine’s Day to be the one where I found love.

Last year, my roommates and I had ordered a bunch of pizza, put on charcoal face masks, and watched movies. But Bella had a date with her new boyfriend tonight, and Michelle was still at the party, cozying up to Nolan’s best friend while Nolan was busy flirting with the redheaded girl from the softball team.

Whatever. I could have my own night in. I just needed to get out of this ridiculous skirt and into a warm oversized sweatshirt. Shivering, I cranked up the heat and made a mental list of the shows I planned to catch up on. I had at least three episodes left of that medical drama, and I was pretty sure I had a spare face mask somewhere too. All I needed to complete the antidote for a bruised heart was some quality junk food.

I swung left into the closest gas station parking lot. Nothing said desperation like spending the most romantic night of the year in a convenience store, but I was past the point of caring. Cold air hit me as I exited my car and scurried inside. A bell chimed to announce my pathetic arrival.

The store was empty except for the cashier who was too distracted by the book on the counter in front of him to even acknowledge his lone customer. I rubbed my hands over the goosebumps on my bare arms and scanned the room. Hmm. I really wanted something warm. The heat of the artificial lights and the smell of greasy pizza pulled me to the heated shelves at the front. I was just reaching for a triangular paper box when a voice made me jump.

“I would strongly advise against the pizza. That stuff’s been sitting out all day.”

My gaze snapped up to the nonplussed expression of the cashier, and I realized he was only about my age. He looked vaguely familiar, and I wondered for a moment if he might be a student at my college. It wasn’t until he raised an eyebrow that I realized I’d forgotten to speak back.

I withdrew my hand from the metal shelf covered with heat lamps. “Thanks for the warning.” I pretended to survey the other offerings of hot dogs and chicken fingers and added, “Any recommendations?”

He shook his head. “Nothing from that case. Let’s see.” He started walking toward the aisle behind us, and I followed. “Where are you headed and how many people do you need to feed?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s just me.”

He paused and turned back around, studying my outfit. “Sorry, you looked like you were dressed for a party or something.”

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, all the feelings of the evening’s disappointment and frustration bubbling to the surface again. “I was. I mean, I am,” I spluttered. “My roommate and I went to a party earlier. She’s still there, but I’m…not.” All of a sudden, I was so flustered I could hardly think straight. “I mean, I’m headed back early, because,” I trailed off and closed my eyes.

“Ah,” he said quietly. “Rough night?”

Gathering tears threatened to add smeared mascara to the list of indignities I’d suffered. His eyes softened with compassion that made me want to simultaneously crawl into a hole and ask this stranger for a hug. “I’m just hungry,” I finally squeaked, sounding like a bona fide toddler. If I’d acted this way around Nolan, his eyes would have widened and he would have made some remark about me being crazy before slowly backing away. But Unfazed Gas Station Guy just nodded.

“Sounds like you need comfort snacks ASAP,” he said. “You’ve come to the right place.” He spun around and resumed his mission. “Any allergies or dislikes or anything?”

“No.” I trailed behind him, still surprised by how normal he was making this mortifying situation seem. He collected an assortment of items as we made our way up and down the handful of aisles: one bag each of cheddar cheese and salt & vinegar chips, a pack of mini chocolate donuts, a few theater boxes of candy, and a six pack of blue Gatorade—my favorite flavor.

“What else?” He lifted his snack-laden arms.

“I think that’ll suffice.” The absurdity of the moment provoked a giggle, and I could have sworn he came dangerously close to smiling. I couldn’t help but notice what I thought was a dimple on his right cheek.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before,” I confessed. “Do you go to CU?”

“Yeah.” He dumped the food onto the counter by the register. “You’re in my English Lit class.”

We shared a class, and I’d never even spoken to this guy before? Was he always just quiet and shy or was I that obtuse? “Oh,” I answered lamely.

“Evan,” he offered.

I blinked. “Georgia.”

“Mmhm,” he agreed, like he already knew it, as he moved to the other side of the counter and rang up my purchases. Before I realized what was happening, he pulled out his wallet and swiped his own debit card. “It’s on the house,” he said. “I hope your night gets better, Georgia.”

“You don’t need to do that,” I objected. “You’ve already improved my evening drastically. Let me pay for my own junk food.”

He shrugged. “This is doing me a favor, really. I can tell my mom I bought dinner for a girl tonight. She’s always hounding me about working and studying too hard and not having a social life. But I gotta pay for school somehow, you know?”

“Spending money on me won’t help with that part.”

He smiled for real this time, and there was definitely a dimple involved. “I can swing it. And here.” He reached for the chair behind him and passed me a zip-up hoodie. “You can return it Tuesday in class. It’s freezing out there.” I slid my arms into the sleeves while he bagged up the food.

“Thank you.” I gestured to the book on the chair. “See you in class, Evan.”

Our hands brushed as I took the plastic bag from him, and I was still grinning when I slid into my car a few seconds later. The air filled with the pleasant, clean smell of his jacket, and I relished its warmth. Situating my snacks, I cranked the engine. But before I backed out, I paused to switch the music.

It was time for something new.

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Rachel Lawrence writes stories and poetry about the everyday joys and challenges of life, love, and choosing the perfect snack food for every occasion. Her debut novel, a sweet NA beach romance, will publish in 2025. Rachel is a wife, mom, and lover of inside jokes who plays Christmas music year round. Follow her on Instagram @writehereallalong.