His black Ferrari pulled up right beside us. I knew it was him without even having to look because he was the only one in our neighborhood that would play ear-splitting music that nobody wanted to hear at 7 in the morning. Somehow it didn't annoy me. If I'm being honest, if we were keeping score, he had just earned some cool-boy points in my book. He emerged from his car. I knew this because I heard the noise that came with the hollow rattle that was his door hinge.I always tried not to look at him. I felt like if I glanced at him it would be over, like all the butterflies doing jumping jacks and backflips in my stomach would coincide with the beating drum of my heart and I would overwhelm my body and trigger an arrhythmia. One can say I'm a little dramatic but that's how I felt every time I saw Peter.

  We had cameras covering our entire property, not intentionally but conveniently facing Peter's household. My mom put them up ever since my dad died. I guess it was her way of protecting us since he couldn't be here to do it himself. I used them to my advantage. Not in a creepy stalker way. It was never that deep. I just never had the courage to glimpse in his direction because I lusted hard. So when I got in my mother's station wagon and she pulled off with the speed of a feral cat chasing a timid mouse as she always did, I went on my phone, opened the camera app, and searched for the exact moment I heard his car screeching from his worn-out tires that clearly needed to be changed. I just needed to see if he looked at me and he always did. It was hazy because of our poor camera quality but I couldn't help but notice him cracking a smile as he glanced over at me before he turned back around.

  We had exchanged good mornings on several occasions if we saw each other in the street but that's all our exchanges were good mornings, good nights and good afternoons. Something you would tell the old lady who needed help crossing the street. Those moments were the closest I had ever gotten to seeing his eyes. They were a shallow yet oceanic deep blue, looking into them almost felt like a day at the beach, calm nonetheless soothing. We were friendly, like we knew each other existed and that we were neighbors but beyond that we never interacted.

  Forty minutes went by, and my mother had finally made it to my taxing 9-5 job. Working here was a necessity as she would phrase it because I needed to help with the bills around the house. I slowly opened the car door, got up from where I was sitting as if I was an elderly woman receiving a pension, and closed it firmly. Then I waved my mom goodbye as I watched her drive off. I dreaded walking through those doors. The creaking of the door protesting as it opened, the way it whined against its hinges, never failing to produce a shrieking sound was enough to send me to Mars.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  It always felt like there was a pecking order in this place that divided the team, so my motto became, "Get in and get out." I was never interested in making any friends but somehow my aura attracted a 5'3 black haired, hazel eyed, bronzed, 19 year old teenager that felt like a human version of a feisty Chihuahua. According to the words of Aliciá Fernandez, my one friend in this place.

  "My customer service was top tier until a bitch would!"

  Referencing her with respects to our age gap—which wasn't that big by the way—I was 23, but apparently, "I was an endangered species, the last of my kind that scientists forgot about, the only dinosaur left behind still roaming on planet Earth."

  Clocking in, in this place always triggered the opposing emotion of wanting to clock out but I clocked in anyway. An hour into my shift, Aliciá, our demanding co-worker, Bethany Forde and I were just chilling as it wasn't that busy today. Our manager was too busy in the back with her own paperwork that she didn't have time to make up imaginary jobs for us to do to fill the time. Bethany was an overachiever though so she did stuff she wasn't told to do just to kiss our manager's ass. Alicia and I took advantage of the quiet as these were rare times so we decided to enjoy it while it lasted because this was one of the busiest franchises in the area. Today was a slow day but out of nowhere I heard,

  Vroom! Vroom! Vroom!

  The heightened sound captivated my attention. It canceled out every other surrounding vibration. I recognized those blue rims on that shiny yet somewhat overrated motorbike anywhere because there was only one person so arrogant and self-absorbed that didn't care, not even in the slightest, about the repercussions of his acoustic footprint. If there was one thing that I knew was true, is that Peter was part of that small group of people that contributed more to air pollution due to all his damn vehicles. He parallel-parked right in front of the building. I tried to hide the fact that I wasn't amused, but I was easily impressed by Peter. He took off his helmet and walked inside, approaching the image maker. He intentionally stood in front of me; I could feel his tall figure looming. And there it was again—that glaring look. He stared at me like I was the only one in the room. I never understood why he did that, and I pondered on whether he felt the same. He arched forward and whispered with his clean breath,

  "Can I get a spicy burger with a large fry and a shake?"

  The fact that he proceeded to pretend like he didn't know me at all, shattered any hope in my wondering mind of whether my burning desire was reciprocated.