BuyMore was finally closed for the day.
The last receipt had printed. The automatic doors had stuttered shut. The overhead lights flickered into their dim nighttime setting, casting a pale glow on the tile floors. Only the buzzing of the floor cleaner and the occasional sigh of exhausted employees lingered in the air. Brenda tossed her name tag into her locker with a dramatic sigh. “Another twelve-hour day, another batch of angry coupon moms. I should be getting hazard pay for this.” From a few lockers down, Marcus let out a grunt of agreement, tugging off his branded polo and replacing it with a flannel shirt he kept folded in his bag. “Hey,” he said suddenly. “You doing anything tonight?” Brenda arched an eyebrow. “Unless you count microwaving leftovers and yelling at my cat, no. Why?” “Come have a drink with me,” he said casually, but his voice had that slightly-too-casual edge. “There’s that 24-hour diner-bar off Edison Street. Half-off wings. Free peanuts. Booths you can fall asleep in without judgment.” Brenda gave him a skeptical look. “Are we celebrating something? Did you finally organize the HDMI cables by length like corporate asked?” Marcus smirked. “Let’s just call it a ‘we survived another week of BuyMore hell’ toast.” She paused. Then shrugged. “Sure. But if this turns into karaoke night, I’m out.” “No promises.” The place was exactly what Marcus had promised: dim lighting, red vinyl booths, and a jukebox that played the same five rock ballads on loop. The bar was tucked into one corner, manned by a sleepy bartender in a band tee. Brenda sipped on a gin and tonic while Marcus downed his second beer like he was trying to outrun something. He looked rough around the edges—his hair messier than usual, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Not unkempt. Just… off. “So,” Brenda said, setting her drink down. “You gonna tell me why you dragged me out here, or are we bonding over shared trauma and bad mozzarella sticks?” Marcus stared into his beer like it held answers. “I just needed to not be at home,” he muttered. “Okay… broody. Got it.” He sighed. “Sorry. I just… I’ve been weird lately.” “No kidding.” Brenda didn’t press. She wasn’t the kind of friend who needed to force confessions. She just sat there, listening, letting the moment take its own shape. He glanced at her. “You ever like someone you weren’t supposed to?” Brenda’s expression didn’t change, but her grip on her glass tightened slightly. “Define ‘not supposed to.’” Marcus gave a dry laugh. “I mean, someone who wouldn’t see you that way. Or who’s… with someone else. Or just totally out of your league.” Brenda didn’t answer. She just tilted her head slightly, watching him carefully. He looked away. “It’s Callie.” There it was. The words fell out of his mouth like they’d been waiting in his throat all week. Brenda blinked once. Twice. But didn’t flinch. “I think I like her,” Marcus continued. “I don’t even know when it started. Probably sometime between her yelling at me for mislabeling clearance items and the time she dragged me away from that Karen who tried to slap me with a mop.” Brenda let out a soft snort. “Ah yes. Romance.” He grinned, but it faded quickly. “I dunno. She’s just… different. Sharp. Doesn’t care what people think, but still knows how to get things done. And she actually listens, even when she pretends not to.” Brenda’s chest tightened, but her face stayed neutral. “She’s not with Eli,” Marcus said, eyes a little glazed now. “Not officially. But I see the way she looks at him. Hell, I see the way he looks at her. And it sucks.” Brenda took a slow sip of her drink. “Have you told her?” He laughed bitterly. “What would be the point? She’d never go for a guy like me. I’m the guy who hides in the back and fixes the label guns. She likes guys who challenge her. Who don’t blink when she’s on fire.” Brenda didn’t respond right away. She watched him—really watched him—and beneath the beer and the self-deprecation, there was a kind of raw honesty in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. “And what do you think she sees in you?” she asked quietly. Marcus shrugged. “Comic relief?” Brenda gave him a look. He looked down. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing.” Silence stretched between them. Outside, a neon sign flickered. Inside, the jukebox changed to a slower tune—something bluesy and low. Marcus rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “God, I shouldn’t have told you that.” Brenda’s voice was calm. “Why not?” “Because you’re my friend. And I don’t want you to think I’m pathetic.” “I don’t.” He looked at her, surprised. Brenda leaned back in her seat, swirling the ice in her glass. “I think you’re scared. And I think you’re a little drunk. But you’re not pathetic.” Marcus chuckled, relaxing slightly. Brenda didn’t tell him about the tightness in her chest. She didn’t tell him that hearing him talk about Callie made something twist low in her stomach. Because somewhere between late-night restocks and shared smoke breaks, she’d started noticing things too. The way Marcus always handed her the good pens. The way he remembered how she took her coffee. The way his laugh—loud and unfiltered—was often the one bright spot in her shift. She hadn’t labeled it. Hadn’t dared to look at it directly. But now, here he was—spilling feelings for someone else. And she couldn’t say a word. So she smiled instead. “You know,” she said, “Callie’s a lot of things. But she’s not heartless. If you ever decided to say something… she’d at least hear you out.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Maybe.” He leaned back, shoulders slumping. “You ever wonder what we’d all be doing if we didn’t work at BuyMore?” he asked suddenly. “All the time,” Brenda replied. He stared at the ceiling. “I used to think I’d end up in tech. Like, actual tech. Wires, software, startup hoodie vibes. But now? I think I’m just… here.” Brenda nudged his foot under the table. “You’re more than just here, Marcus. You hold half that store together. You’re the guy who fixes things.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Including myself?” “One thing at a time.” They left the diner-bar just after midnight. Marcus was leaning slightly against her, not quite stumbling but clearly looser than usual. Brenda guided him to his car and took his keys with a sigh. “Come on,” she said. “You’re not driving. I’ll call a ride.” He leaned his head against the cool window of the passenger side. “You’re a good friend, Bren.” She didn’t answer right away. Then, softly: “Yeah. I am.” She stepped back as the rideshare pulled up, handing the driver Marcus’s keys and explaining the address. Before he climbed inside, Marcus turned to her. “You won’t tell anyone what I said, right?” Brenda shook her head. “Your secret’s safe.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Thanks. For listening.” Then he climbed in, door shutting behind him. Brenda stood on the curb, arms wrapped around herself, watching the car disappear into the night. She didn’t cry. But something inside her curled in on itself. Not jealousy. Not quite. Just… something unnamed and heavy. At BuyMore the next morning, Marcus was his usual self—maybe quieter, maybe slightly more careful around Callie, but still cracking jokes, still fiddling with the display wires like nothing had changed. Brenda watched him from across the employee floor, a smile fixed on her face. But she felt it now. The quiet ache of knowing something, and keeping it to yourself. The weight of something she couldn’t say, not yet. Maybe not ever. But she would still laugh at his jokes. She would still pass him the good pens. And she would still be his friend. Even if that meant holding back. Even if something in her stirred every time he smiled at someone else.Saturday morning at BuyMore started like most others: too much fluorescent light, too little caffeine, and a never-ending line of customers who somehow all had coupons that expired last year.But something inside Callie felt different.She stood near the seasonal aisle, restocking discounted fairy lights from the spring clearance bin, but her mind wasn’t in it. It kept drifting back to last night—galaxy bowling lanes, Eli’s laugh, the way his arm brushed hers when they leaned over the scoreboard at the same time.That had surprised her.Not just the moment.But the fact that it still mattered.She’d walked into the group hangout determined to stay distant, to maintain control over her own emotions. She’d told herself it was just a night with coworkers. No one expected anything more.And yet—Eli had been there.And he hadn’t pressed her. Hadn’t cornered her with apologies or explanations. He’d just been
The plan started with a joke about bowling.Brenda was re-tagging clearance chargers in Aisle Seven when Marcus wandered by, sipping his usual syrupy blue slush, and muttered, “I bet I could out-bowl you with my eyes closed.”She raised a brow. “You think you’re that good?”“I think I’m that humble,” he said with a grin.Twenty minutes later, the joke evolved into a half-serious conversation. By the time Brenda reached the breakroom, she’d already opened a group chat called “BuyMore Night Out.”The idea was simple: no work talk, no name tags, no barcode scanners. Just fries, laughs, and neon shoes that made everyone look ridiculous.To everyone’s surprise—especially Marcus’s—it caught on fast.Naomi was in. Said she hadn’t been to a bowling alley in years.Even quiet Jacob from Inventory responded with a thumbs-up emoji.Eli responded with: Sounds fun. Count me in.Callie responded a full hour
It was a Tuesday night, one of those oddly warm spring evenings that made the streetlights glow a little softer and the sidewalks feel alive. Marcus and Brenda sat side by side on a long bench at the back of a local food truck lot downtown, sharing a giant order of garlic parmesan fries and sipping cold sodas from paper cups.They weren’t officially dating, not that they’d said aloud.But they’d been out like this five times in the past three weeks.Always at night. Always low-key.Always with too much laughter and not quite enough space between them.Brenda nudged Marcus’s leg with her sneaker. “You know, you always say you’re the one with high standards, but I’ve never seen you complain about this greasy spoon stuff.”Marcus gestured dramatically with a fry. “Fries are the great equalizer. Doesn’t matter who you are or what you earn—good fries? That’s divine intervention.”Brenda smirked. “You should write Hallmark car
The morning air inside BuyMore was sharp with the scent of fresh floor polish and too much citrus-scented cleaner.Eli stepped inside the store right at 8:59 a.m.—one minute before official opening. The lights overhead blinked to life in staggered rows, casting familiar fluorescent hues over aisles that hadn’t changed, people who hadn’t changed, and one woman who had.Callie stood across the store, clipboard tucked under her arm, eyes scanning the day’s printed schedules. Her hair was up in a high, no-nonsense ponytail, and her lips moved silently as she checked names off her list.She didn’t look up when he entered.She didn’t smile.And Eli felt that same dull throb return to his chest—an ache that had grown more persistent since last night’s quiet confrontation in the office.He had barely slept.For most of the night, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his small temporary rental and running through every word th
Eli stood in the back lot of BuyMore at 8:55 a.m., staring at the automatic sliding doors like they were the gates of judgment.The sun was already creeping up above the roof of the store, casting long shadows across the loading dock. A crisp morning breeze tugged at the hem of his uniform polo, freshly ironed, even though no one would notice. His sneakers were clean. His name tag was slightly crooked, just the way Marcus always wore his—casual, easygoing, forgettable.He was supposed to blend in.He had done it for months.But today, stepping back into this space, everything felt... off.And it wasn’t because of jet lag or corporate meetings echoing in his head.It was her.Callie Ruiz.She was in the building.And he had no idea what version of her he’d be facing when he walked through those doors.The familiar rush of cold air hit as he entered the store.Marcus was already by the f
The Zurich airport buzzed with polished efficiency, all clean glass and quiet hums of multilingual announcements. Elijah Dane Whitaker stood by Gate B17, blazer slung over his arm, passport tucked neatly inside his breast pocket, and his phone silent in his hand.Two days. That was all it had been.And yet the guilt pressed down on his chest like an overstuffed carry-on refusing to fit under the seat.The corporate board meeting had gone smoothly. The Zurich branch—their flagship European BuyMore location—had exceeded quarterly projections, and the local executives were thrilled with his proposed digital modernization rollout. Elijah had delivered what was expected of him: sharp numbers, confident leadership, future-ready solutions.But for once, it all felt hollow.Because while he was in a glass conference room overlooking Lake Zurich, making promises to investors, he was also sending a short, vague text to a woman back in the States—so