“Why’s a beautiful girl like you stuck behind a counter?” I hear a smooth, pleasant male voice.
I look up from the order forms and meet the gaze of a young man who’s practically devouring me with his deep brown eyes.
“Where else would I be?” I reply coolly. “Strutting down a runway? Starring in a blockbuster? Or maybe in the bed of some famous billionaire?”
I’ve dealt with plenty of flirts like him around here, and their sweet talk and intense stares have started to wear thin. Most of the time, it doesn’t go beyond a compliment anyway.
Tourists. What can you expect?
“That’s not what I meant,” he says, his confidence faltering a bit as a faint blush creeps onto his cheeks. “I just thought you looked a little bored here.”
He’s observant. I’ll give him that. Truth is, I’d rather be anywhere else right now. Somewhere with my friends, gliding across the ice rink or sipping hot coffee in a cozy café. But duty calls. I’ve got two more hours before I can close up the shop, and if I don’t stick to the schedule, I’ll catch an earful from my parents.
“We don’t always get what we want,” I say, softening my tone a little.
I set the forms aside, pretending I’ve finished filling them out, and take a closer look at the customer. He’s young, quite handsome, dressed in an expensive leather jacket with a camera slung across his chest. It takes me half a second to peg him as a well-off tourist, probably chasing adventure and new experiences.
“But if you try hard enough, sometimes you can make it happen,” he says, flashing a charming smile.
“And what is it you’re after?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t spill my deepest desires to just anyone,” he replies, leaning smoothly over the counter and locking eyes with me. “We’d need to get to know each other better for that.”
“I was actually talking about souvenirs,” I cut in, deflating his ego. “What are you looking to buy? Isn’t that why you came into my shop?”
I cross my arms and watch with satisfaction as the confident smirk fades from his handsome face. I’ve been through this routine plenty of times. I’ve got a knack for putting random flirts in their place. I know what’s going through their heads. They see a young woman and think they can sweep her off her feet for a day or two. After all, she’s just a small-town girl in a sleepy little place where people only show up during the winter tourist season. A bit of attention from a wealthy guy must feel like a gift from above. Except I’m not interested in any of these smooth-talkers, and I do my best to keep them at arm’s length.
He’s good-looking, no denying that. But all I’d get from him is trouble.
The man glances uncertainly at the shelves lined with wooden figurines my father carves and the warm, knitted items my mother makes. I can tell from his expression that none of it catches his interest. So why did he even come in?
“I’m looking for a map or a guide to this town, something that points out the hidden gems. I’m a photographer, and I need some unique shots.”
“There’s plenty to see here—the market, the ski trails, the ice rink for skating enthusiasts,” I say, pausing to think. I’m not even sure what else to suggest.
Our town is small. Most people come to breathe the fresh air, hike through the forested hills, or fish in the crisp, icy river. It’s hard to find anything wildly exciting here. Everything’s quiet and simple.
“I’ve already seen all that,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m looking for something off the beaten path. Something tourists don’t usually care about, but that would look amazing through a lens.”
I like the way he talks about his camera, almost as if it’s alive. I notice how he lightly touches the black plastic, careful and tender. He must really love his craft. I can’t help but feel a twinge of envy. I wish I had something I was that passionate about. For now, though, I’m stuck behind the counter of my parents’ shop. There’s no other option.
“There is one place,” I say, an idea suddenly popping into my head. “Just outside town, up on a hill, there’s an old, ruined monastery. Ancient, even—I don’t know when it was built. The place reeks of history, and the view from up there is breathtaking.”
“I’d love to see it,” he says, his brown eyes lighting up with interest.
“But the road up there is snowed over. It’s tough to get to—you’d have to go on foot,” I warn him. “Nobody really talks about the monastery. The mayor just considers it a crumbling old ruin.”
“Could you take me there?” he asks, not even listening to my caution.
“Are we on a first-name basis already?” I squint at him.
A sly smile plays on his lips.
“If you guide me up there, we will be,” he replies confidently.
“I can’t. I’m working,” I say with a shrug, starting to shuffle some notebooks and forms to look busy.
“I’ll pay you,” he persists. He’s so fired up about this idea that it seems like nothing will stop him. “Come on, say yes. Otherwise, I’ll have to find another guide, and that’ll take time. I don’t have much of it to spare.”
I hesitate. Extra money wouldn’t hurt, especially given my current situation. But trekking up a hill outside town with a stranger feels a bit risky. Who knows what’s going on in his head? And why is he so eager to get there?
“Fine,” I finally agree after a short pause. He seems decent enough. I’ll take a chance. “But tomorrow. It’s too late today.”
“Deal,” he says, pulling a phone out of his jacket pocket. “But let’s go as early as possible so we have enough time to explore. Give me your number, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Let’s meet at nine in the morning by the ice rink,” I say, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise. “I don’t give my number to strangers.”
“Fair enough. We haven’t even introduced ourselves,” he chuckles, seemingly amused by my boundaries. “I’m Denis.”
He extends a hand across the counter. I hesitate for a moment before shaking it.
“Sophia.”
He freezes, his eyes widening as he stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. I feel his grip tighten on my hand, so I pull it back and step away. The friendly smile is gone. He’s looking at me like I’m a ghost. What did I say?
“Sophia,” he repeats thoughtfully, as if tasting the name on his lips. He looks away, lets out a small huff. “So, Sophia, how about that phone number?”
“We’ll meet tomorrow at the spot I mentioned,” I stand my ground.
I have a rule: I don’t hand out my number to just anyone. Otherwise, you end up with endless annoying calls. I learned that lesson the hard way.
Denis opens his mouth to say something, but the bell above the door jingles as it swings open. Roman, covered in snow, bursts into the shop and starts brushing it off himself.
“Man, the weather’s gone wild out there,” my friend says cheerfully, but he stops short when he notices Denis.
“Roman, what are you doing here?” I ask, surprised to see him. “I thought you were out having fun with everyone else.”
“Decided to check in on you,” he says.
He walks past Denis, shooting him a sideways glance, and positions himself between us. Denis studies Roman for a moment before heading for the door.
“I’ll be waiting tomorrow at nine,” he says over his shoulder before stepping out.
Roman watches him leave, then turns to me, curiosity written all over his face.
“Who was that?”
“Just a tourist,” I reply casually with a shrug. “He wants me to take him to the old ruined monastery.”
“And you agreed to go with him?” There’s a hint of worry in his voice.
“He’s paying well. And you know I could use the money.”
“If something happens to you, money won’t matter,” he says heatedly.
Roman leans over the counter and grabs my hand, just like Denis did a few minutes ago. But his touch is gentle, filled with care and affection. I know how he feels about me. I like him too, but I don’t let it show. I keep him at a distance. I’m not looking to start anything new, especially since I’m planning to leave town after the winter season to find better work. I haven’t told anyone about that yet.
“I’ll be fine,” I say calmly.
I pull my hand from his and turn to the shelf, adjusting the figurines. Business has been slow today—there’s barely any cash in the register. The tourist season’s off to a rough start, and I have a feeling it’ll stay that way.
“I’m worried about you. Don’t go anywhere with him,” he pleads more than asks.
I turn back to Roman, looking at his pale face. He’s a good guy. We’ve spent our whole childhood together.
“I know, Roman,” I say softly. “But you don’t need to do this.”
“Do what?” he frowns.
“All of this,” I gesture around him. “Don’t hover over me. I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
Roman clenches his jaw, his lips pressing into a tight line.
“Fine, I won’t,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Can I at least wait for you to close up the shop?”
I nod and give him a small, friendly smile.
At the end of the workday, I lock up, and we head to the town center together. There’s no point going home right now—it’s empty. My parents and sister are at the hospital in the next county and won’t be back for a few days. These past few nights, I’ve been on my own, and sometimes it gets pretty lonely and a little scary.
Our friends are waiting for us at our usual spot. It’s still light enough outside to get in a quick skate, so that’s exactly what we do.