A Chance Encounter Stirred More Than Curiosity
Some relationships start in the most unusual ways ..
Enjoy this excerpt from The New Girl in Town - And Other Journeys Above and Below the Belt
I tried not to stare.
I even pretended to be drawn to a newly stocked bin of potatoes, so the other shoppers wouldn’t realize I was homesteading the aisle — watching her.
Maybe it was her shoulder-length chestnut hair, or her slender arms and trim waist. Or the fact that the contrast between her white, short-sleeve top and her smooth, olive skin had caught my eye from a hundred feet away.
Curious, I’d moved closer, each step assuring me there was more to see, more to capture my interest. Now in the same aisle, I could fully appreciate how her black yoga pants hugged her toned thighs and calves. And those eyes — forest green, speaking words only nature could hear.
Following the contours of her body, I glanced down, noticing the ivory leather flats supporting her petite frame. She was an inch or two over five feet, but no taller.
A dozen stolen glances later, I suddenly wondered why I was being so hesitant — so intent on playing shy and innocent.
Because in reality, I was neither.
But there I was, acting like a schoolgirl — paralyzed by the fear of possible rejection.
Maybe my subconscious was trying to warn me to use caution — a signal to remind me how her neon-bright, energetic glow could not only ripple and tease, it also had the power to burn me senseless.
I decided I didn’t care. I had to take the risk.
Assuming she hadn’t noticed me yet, I quickly fluffed my bangs and straightened the straps on my tank-top. I picked up a banana, a pineapple, and a red pear, hoping the ingredients for a fruit salad would serve as a thinly-veiled smokescreen to hide my interest.
Assuming the role of her shadow, I moved in careful lockstep — goddess and hand-maiden, monarch and subject, actor and understudy.
She paused at the avocado display. I watched as she retrieved a sample from the top of the pile. Cupping the fruit in her hand, she gently pressed the bumpy green flesh. Then raising it within inches of her face, she examined its texture and color.
She seemed to be searching for that elusive state of perfection—to match her own flawlessness.
Returning the first avocado to the bin, she selected another, obviously needing a comparison. She was picky, refusing to settle. Whether the rejected fruit had been rotten to the core or merely sporting a superficial bruise, she would accept nothing less than the best — because she promised the same in return.
I would have to bring my “A” game.
Repeating the process, she eventually found two acceptable candidates for what would surely become a batch of her celebrity-status guacamole. Slipping them into a bag, she tied it closed and lowered it into her cart.
Near enough to scan her hand-picked inventory, I took hope in the absence of traditional American family staples. Not a box of Captain Crunch or Froot Loops in sight. And instead of a half-dozen microwave dinners, I noticed a variety of organic and natural foods—many packaged for a single serving.
Pausing at the melon display, she thumped lightly on a cantaloupe, then leaned in as if listening for a friendly echo. After repeating the process several times, she picked up the melon and moved it from one hand to the other, as if estimating its weight. Finally, she inhaled deeply for aromatic sensory confirmation.
Lucky cantaloupe.
I’d been staring much too long. Cultural convention dictated I redirect my gaze. But the bastions of social propriety be damned. They’d likely never laid eyes on this young woman. If they had, they would surely grant me immunity from criticism.
As she paused to pick up a few apples, I realized I was witnessing a stellar example of why it’s important to take time and care in evaluating one’s options. Whether it’s fruit, vegetables, or a partner, making the right choice is a process — one crafted through curiosity, detailed scrutiny, and mistakes learned and remembered.
Because if we make the wrong decision—if we don’t use every skill at our disposal—it likely means another visit to the store to return a choice made in haste. And when asked why we’re dissatisfied, we repeat an all too frequently used explanation of why our selection wasn’t a good match for our needs. Occasionally, we have to pay a re-stocking charge.
My eyes on the prize, I watched as she steered her cart into the check-out line. I slid in behind her with quiet precision. Call it fate, predestination, or simply the result of chance, the two of us were now separated by just a few feet.
My breath caught in my chest as she turned and offered a smile.
Desperately searching for something to say, my eyes drifted to the items in her cart. “I noticed you have the ingredients for a fruit salad. Not many people make those anymore.”
It sounded awkward, artificial —a pathetic attempt to make small talk.
I held my breath. Would she take a minute to chat? Would she want to know more about me? Or was my interest one-sided, destined to be a brief, unrequited exchange that would feed my fantasies but not my soul?
Thanks for reading. The New Girl in Town is available in eBook & Paperback at www.TheNewGirlBook.com
Until next time,
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Jaye Frances is the author of the suspense thriller trilogy World Without Love. Her other books include The New Girl in Town, The Beach, The Kure, and Love Travels Forever. Storyteller, truth-seeker, and optimist, Jaye explores relationships, philosophy, and the complexities of life - a day at a time. Jaye’s books are available at JayeFrancesBooks.com