Page 38 of The Immortal's One

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Wow.

This girl isnothinglike the quiet, awkward teenager I used to know.

Before I can respond, a voice cuts through our conversation—sharp, demanding. “Do you work here?”

The woman steps into my personal space, stopping just short of shoving me aside to stand directly in front ofAmanda. I shift my cart to the right, trying to give her room.

Amanda’s expression remains pleasant, but her shoulders tense. “Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?”

“I’ve searched the entire store for gluten-free crackers and can’t find them anywhere. Does this store even have any?” Her tone is snappish and condescending.

I bite the inside of my cheek. There’s no way the woman searched the entire store. If she had, she would have noticed the health food section tucked in the back corner near the pharmacy.

I study the woman more closely. She’s definitely not from around here. If her accent didn’t give it away, her attire does. The red dress that clings to her slender frame, paired with transparent tights and stilettos, scream “night out,” not “grocery run”.

And the rude woman is not alone. Two more impeccably dressed women stand behind her, their expressions just as sour.

Amanda’s customer-service smile stays in place. “Of course. Gluten-free items are in aisle twenty-one, just over there.” She gestures toward the back of the store, then adds, “Would you like me to show you where it is?”

The woman’s lips curl. “No, thanks. I can read signs.”

Apparently not, since you couldn't find it in the first place.

“Okay.” Amanda’s voice is still light despite the woman’s rudeness. It’s impressive. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

The woman huffs, spinning on her heel with a sharpness that matches her icy demeanor. But before she walks away, her piercing eyes meet mine. Her gaze is as biting as a winter storm, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. Shelooks at me like I’m an insect beneath her heel, then dismisses me with a sneer and hair flip.

What the hell did I do to her?

The woman’s stilettos click sharply against the linoleum as she struts away, her entourage trailing behind her with matching disdainful glares.

Amanda watches them go, her smile fading as soon as they turn the corner. “Wow… What a bitch.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“I’ve never seen her before.” She purses her lips. “I hope she’s just passing through Brunswick. The last thing we need is people likethatsticking around.”

“I agree,” I murmur, still unnerved by the woman’s parting glare.

Something deep in my gut tells me it’s best to avoid crossing paths with those women again.

I stand behind an olderman in the checkout line, my bladder screaming for relief. The store is busy for a Sunday afternoon. I wish they’d open more registers. The coffee I drank this morning is working through me, and I desperately need to use the restroom—now.

Minutes drag on as the man in front of me strikes up a lengthy conversation with the cashier. I shift uncomfortably, doing my best not to squirm.

Finally, it’s my turn.

“Hello,” the friendly cashier greets me with a smile that accentuates her laugh lines. “How are you this afternoon?”

Pride keeps me from crossing my legs like a five-year-old trying to hold their bladder.

“Great, thank you.” Politeness demands I ask, “How are you?”

“I’m wonderful, dear. Thank you for asking.” She begins to scan the items on the conveyor belt.

The bagger turns to talk to his coworker working in the next line over. I bite my tongue to stop from asking him to focus on bagging my items.

I’m never drinking coffee again.