Long Nails

"What the hell is with those long-ass nails, man?" I can hear Joseph's voice without even having to turn my head.

"Why do they wear those?" he asks.

I try my best to keep my eyes straight ahead. But I can literally feel my hands shaking as I focus on stocking the rest of the bananas on the row.

One of my other coworkers, Grayson, answers, "It's a fashion thing."

"Fashion? It doesn't look good. It looks scary," Joseph continues. "Like they never cut their nails. It looks dirty. And she's in the produce section today, too. Man, I hope no bacteria gets on the fruit."

I am literally seething at this point. But I tell myself to breathe and act obliviously. How easy it would be to just turn around and let out a long, cursing tirade on this jerk. However, I know it isn't worth it.

"I always thought her long nails look pretty cool," Grayson responds. "And I know Ny'kayla. She is really clean. She's only helping out in produce today because Madison called out. I know she washes her hands. But she can wear long nails. She's usually in customer service doing front end."

I'm shocked at what I am hearing. How sweet of Grayson to come to my defense.

Later on, the idiot who talked shit about me and my long nails is gone. It is just me and Grayson in the produce section. I watch him stock the salads before I finally decide to go over to him.

We went to school together as kids, graduated from the same high school, and we both attend the local college. However, I wouldn't say we are friends. More like we just know of one another.

He mostly seems to hang out with the stoners and sometimes the preppy Caucasian boys. I think he was part of that skateboarder clique in our high school, but he also came from a little bit of money. So, I can't really tell what his deal is. Because he has the look of a burnout with the long, shaggy blonde hair. However, he holds a job and attends classes. And I never saw him smoking weed with the potheads that ran our high school halls. I only would see him being friendly with them.

Grayson's eyes light up in surprise when I walk over to him. I give him a small smile, to which he looks embarrassed.

"I heard you standing up for me with that racist asshole," I say. Straight to the point.

"Thanks," I add. Because I feel sort of embarrassed now, too.

Grayson looks nervous.

"Yeah, I didn't like what he was saying. But I didn't want to get into a fight. I wish I would have done more," he continues. "I'm sorry for that."

I smile at him again.

"No, you did what you could. And I appreciate it," I assure him. "It takes a lot of guts to even speak up against that kind of shit. I know it must have been hard for you."

Grayson gives me a small smile this time.

"I mean, it wasn't that hard," he mumbles quietly.

I hear him even though he seems to be muttering to himself and nod my head.

"Of course! Sorry, I didn't mean to say it was hard for you to speak up. I mean, ever since we were little, I never really got a racist vibe from you," I say without thinking.

Immediately I kick myself internally. Now why would I say that? Who is the real racist here?

But Grayson seems amused. He even laughs.

"That's good to know," he says quietly again. He really is kind of closed-mouth, but I still can make out everything he mumbles. I begin to wonder if he might be incredibly shy.

"Well, thank you again," I say, because now I've officially put my foot in my mouth for bringing up that he never gave me KKK vibes. Which basically meant I automatically assumed that he would just because of the color of his skin. While thanking him for standing up for me when someone was judging me by mine. How hypocritical of me.

"If you ever need anything, let me know," I say with a wave of my hand as I turn around to head back to where I was finishing the last of my cart to stock.

But then I hear Grayson say my name.

"Ny'kayla?"

I whip my head around to look back at him. He looks really nervous and...

Yes...

Shy.

Actually, he looks VERY shy.

"I was wondering if maybe I could have your number?"

My jaw almost drops to the floor. But I manage to pull it back up. Now I feel shy all of a sudden.

"Uh, sure."

I walk back over to Grayson and watch as he pulls out his phone. I feel my voice uncharacteristically wavering as I tell him my number and watch him add me to his contacts.

"Thanks," Grayson says. But this time when he looks at me I see a calm in his eyes. And what I think might be pure happiness. However, I tell myself not to read too much into it.

Wow.

I did not expect this today.

"Is it ok if I call you after work? You get off at 3, too, right?" he asks me. His voice sounds eager and his eyes light up.

"Y-yeah," I say. Why am I all of a sudden so nervous?

He smiles. And the smile is so big, I think it might fall off his face if he's not careful.

"Great," he says, but his voice is still quiet. "I'll call you then."

He looks down at the ground. The shyness is returning.

But I am feeling shy myself. So, we both sort of stare at the ground for a few seconds.

"Ok, I'll talk to you then," I finally say and awkwardly shuffle back to where I was finishing up my cart of produce.

For the rest of the shift, I feel a light buzzing in the air. It feels...awkward. But in a...good way?

Grayson and I don't speak to one another again. But his presence as we each work silently feels different. Warm. Safe. Euphoric almost?

I don't know what this is. I have never experienced this buzzing feeling all because a guy asked for my number. This is new to me.

I clock out when my shift ends and head outside to my car. Once I am in the parking lot, I get a buzz from my phone. I look down and see an unknown number.

But the surprising thing is that I feel excited. Like thousands of birds being released from my chest.

"Hello?" I say as I answer the call.

"...H-Hi."

I hear Grayson's voice on the other end. Which is kind of awkward since we literally were just inside of the store together. But I don't feel annoyed that he literally called me right at three when we clocked out.

"I'm glad I caught you before you drove away!... I-I-I was going to ask you if you wanted to go get ice cream at the shop next door," Grayson continues.

I feel myself get warm all over. Like I'm being put in an oven of a quaint bakery. I feel light and fluffy.

"Um, sure," I say.

"Really?!" Grayson says excitedly. "Good! I'm right behind you, by the way."

I turn around and sure enough, he is walking out of the grocery store and towards me in the parking lot. We both awkwardly smile at one another as we each hang up our phones. He walks up to me and we can't help but laugh.

"I didn't think I was going to catch you in time," he says quietly as his eyes look down at the ground again. "I hope you like ice cream."

"I do!" I assure him.

He looks at me shyly and smiles.

We walk towards the ice cream shop side by side. It feels a little weird because we just got off of work and we're in our uniforms. But it also feels...nice.

It's a summer evening, so the sun is just starting to go down and it feels good outside. Not as hot as it was during the day. I feel like I'm living inside the scene of a music video. Who knew I'd get asked for my phone number and taken on a date all in the span of hours from one another?

When we get inside the ice cream shop, Grayson pays for both of our cones. I study him as he walks and talks throughout the interaction in the shop. I notice that he does seem to be the quiet type. His voice barely reaches above a certain level, even while speaking to other people. Not just me. But I decide that I like this about him. It makes me feel at ease.

We decide to sit outside in the little red and white plastic chairs and tables the ice cream place has out in front. The overlingering heat makes the ice cream melt faster, but for some reason instead of being annoyed at ice cream running down my hand, it only adds to the excitement of the date. We eat our ice cream in a calm silence. Both of us too shy to say anything yet to one another, but I realize that our eyes keep flashing to each other before each of us looks away. We do this multiple times and when our eyes meet, we pretend to be super interested in eating our ice cream cones again.

"I should have gotten napkins," I say as I watch my ice cream trickle down my cone to my hand and towards my arm.

"I'll go get some for you," Grayson says and begins to stand up. His ice cream cone is gone now. He finished it quickly.

I feel bad for making him be my servant on what I think is a first date. So, I tell him not to go get the napkins. That I am fine.

"You sure?" he says.

I nod my head.

"I'll just clean it up like this," I say and I stick my tongue out and lick the ice cream up from my arm to my hand.

For some reason, Grayson's eyes bulge a little. And he looks away immediately.

That's when it hits me. I don't know what boldness possesses me, but I kick him playfully.

"You have a gross mind!" I say.

His face is literally red. But I can see the amused look in his eyes.

"Sorry," he says. And I know he means it. I don't know how, though.

When I finish my ice cream cone, I think that is the end.

"Well, I had a nice time," I said to him with a smile.

"Oh. I thought maybe we could hang out a little more," Grayson asks.

I'm in shock. Because I oddly was feeling sad for the date ending so soon. It's like he read my mind.

"What do you want to do?" he asks.

"Umm..." I think really hard. He already paid for ice cream and I don't want to make him pull out his wallet even more. We both are college kids who need every penny we get.

I think hard.

"Let's sit in the car and talk. Get to know each other," I say suddenly when the solution dawns on me. "I feel like I hardly do. Even though we went to school together."

*******

We both drive our cars to a quiet pond area that's in our town. Usually, the only people who come out here are those who want to do some fishing. But they go further down. Where we parked, no one really comes unless they are on a date.

Which is what we are doing.

Grayson gets out of his car to sit in mine.

At first, I feel awkward. Because he is so quiet and shy. It's my first time having to take the lead in situations like this. And it is awkward.

But then I begin to ask him questions.

"So, do you smoke? I only ask because I used to see you running with the weedheads in high school, but I never really saw you with any weed."

His eyes look amused when I say that.

He even laughs.

"No," he says, "I don't really smoke like that. It's not my thing. I mean, my friends and I would hang out and I'd maybe do it here or there. But I didn't really get into it. Was just around people who did."

I nod my head.

"Figured," I say, "But you do skate, right? Skateboard?"

His eyebrows raise up. And he looks almost... flattered that I mentioned this.

"Yeah! I do," he says, "Or did from middle school until college. I don't do it as much as I used to. But I love it."

I smile.

That was the loudest I heard his voice when he talks. He must really love skateboarding.

He looks at me.

"You know I always had a crush on you, right?" he mumbles. But I hear him.

Of course I hear him.

My heart nearly stops.

What?!

"Me?!" I ask incredulously.

"Y-Yeah," he says, and he looks at the floorboard of the passenger seat, "I was pretty sure you could tell. I didn't think I ever hid it well."

I rack my brain for any instance of me ever thinking he could possibly have a thing for me. But find none.

"I really didn't know," I say adamantly.

Grayson shakes his head.

"That's good for me. I was pretty embarrassing. Once, in middle school I made sure to give you a special Valentine that was different from all the other girls," he continues.

I try to remember. But my mind doesn't recollect.

"And in high school, I'd always sit behind you in any class we shared."

He looks sheepish when he admits that one.

Now, that I remember. That's how I always knew what type of crowd he hung around. Because they'd all be sitting near each other by my desk.

"When you started working at our job, man... I paid one of the guys to switch shifts with me just so I could be on yours for the first week," he says.

I burst out laughing at that.

"Awww," I say because I do feel bad that I never noticed, "You're obsessed."

"A little," he says, but this time he doesn't look away or down.

Instead, I do.

"So, what is it that you like about me so much?" I ask, clear my throat, and hurriedly throw out another question just to cut the tension.

"Honestly?" he asks.

I laugh.

"Yes, be honest," I assure him.

"I think you're the cutest girl I've ever seen," he says. "I thought that even when we were kids."

I laugh.

"You don't even know what cute is when you're a kid!" I exclaim.

Grayson's face turns red.

"I did," he says. "My mom says I've always been pretty sensitive. I'm the hopeless romantic type. But I remember when you moved here and got introduced to our 5th grade class. I thought even then that you were the cutest girl I'd seen in my life."

My heartbeat gets fast even though I don't want it to.

"You are sensitive!" I say in a teasing tone to try and lighten the mood.

Grayson looks at me. But he doesn't seem shy now.

Instead, he looks pretty confident.

"Yeah, I am," he says.

My heart beats really fast because I suddenly feel the mood shift. I am not surprised when Grayson moves to kiss me.

At first, our lips linger on one another's. But then he slowly begins to deepen the kiss. I feel myself following his lead.

And I have to admit that I'm loving it.

Even if this just turns out to be a one-time fling, I'm okay with it. That's when I realize I am feeling pretty horny.

It hits me like a brick to my vagina. The immediate slam of... I need more.

I think I surprise BOTH of us when I break the kiss and say, "Wait a minute. Can I get in your lap?"

Grayson looks shocked at first but then suddenly giddy.

"Y-Yeah," he says.

"You sure?" I ask.

"Yes!" His voice is clear and adamant.

I don't need any more confirmation.

I climb into his lap and that's when it is off to the races.

We start making out. I can feel his hands on my ass, gliding up and down my waist and stomach, and hovering just below my breasts. Our mouths are clinging to one another and my tongue even finds its way to his.

"You can touch my breasts," I whisper. But it's more like a command than an invitation. I really need him to touch me there.

Especially after the way he stood up for me today at work. I keep thinking about how he came to my defense and it turns me on even more. Then how he said that he's always thought that I was cute. Ugh. I'm so basic.

I feel his hands slide up my work shirt and to my sports bra. I don't feel embarrassed by what I'm wearing though, because we are both wearing the same thing.

He's hesitant to go under the sports bra. But I keep kissing him passionately, hoping that signals wordlessly that he can touch me even further.

And to my surprise, he gets the message. His hands slip underneath my sports bra and immediately squeeze the flesh of my nipples. I feel a jolt go through me.

He must have felt how my body reacted, too. Because as we continue to kiss, he rolls my nipples in his fingers. Over and over and over again.

That's when I fuck everything up.

My hand flies down from the side of the passenger seat where I had it for balance, and toward his crotch. But as I do, the end of one of my long nails clips his eye.

"Omg!" I cry out, putting a pause on everything, "I'm so sorry!"

But to my surprise, Grayson only just chuckles.

"I'm fine," he says.

But I don't believe him. I cup his face in my hand. It is so intimate, but I ignore the implications of it.

"Let me see your eye," I say. I study his face and for the first time... we don't look away from one another at all.

We both just stare at one another. Both of us sort of mesmerized, if I am being honest.

Grayson is the one who starts the kissing back up. And I lean into it.

I feel him unbuckle his pants himself. And I wordlessly reach for his crotch. This time, however, I'm cognizant of how my nails are moving.

When I touch him, he lets out a deep groan. I find my hand moving up and down on his penis. Pulling it through my hand and fingers. I can feel him quivering beneath me as I grind my crotch against him and jerk him off.

He stops kissing me because of how much I'm focusing my hand on his dick. And instead leans his head back in the chair with his eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying the pleasure.

I keep my hand going up and down. Up and down. Until finally...

His cum trickles out of his penis and down my hand toward my arm. Just like the ice cream cone from earlier today.

****

The next day at work, Grayson makes it a point to hold my hand, with its long fingernails, right in front of Joseph.

And that's how this story ends.