pheromones?

Today, I did the trash and everything I was supposed to do. I was bound and determined to get out the door at 4 o'clock when my shift ended. As I drag the large trash can across the cafe, I stop in front of the bake case to see how it looks. So, I have a fist full of trash bags in one hand and in the other I have the trash can. Taylor's working behind the counter so I start a stupid conversation with her. Something like: "My signs were messed up this morning. The vanilla cupcake sign was on the chocolate cupcake and vice versa. I didn't even notice until I went on my lunch break."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I hate when they move my signs. I have the bake case memorized so it's really embarrassing when the signs are moved around because then the customers are like, 'That's not a chocolate chip cookie.' Or you grab a sugar cookie and the customer says 'I wanted a peanut butter cookie...' and then you look like an idiot."

Taylor laughs and, as she turns away, my Personal Space Infringement Alarm goes off. I turn and step back from this guy saying, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm not in line."

He waves a hand dismissively. "That's okay..." *obvious glance at my name tag* "Kaitlin. I actually just wanted to ask for your number."

Say what? The fist full of trash bags go to my mouth to keep my jaw from dropping open like a fish as I stare wide-eyed at him over the folded bags. "My number?"

A casual shrug. "Yeah, I've seen you around and I thought I'd just ask for your number, you know. Maybe give you a call?"

I glance over him. He's not much taller than me, not bad looking either. He's dark skinned, wearing a burnt orange sweater... and I have no idea how old he is or what his name is. I'm not even sure if I've seen him before. My hand tightens on the trash can as I struggle to think of something. He saves me from answering immediately. "I guess you want to know why I'm asking for your number?"

*blink* "Sure."

He offered an explanation, why not take it? He stares at the bake case a moment before responding. "I asked for your number because you're a good looking girl. You're cheerful and helpful and hard working."

My head tilts to one side and I tap my cheek with the plastic bags. "You want my number because I take out the trash?"

Nervous laughter. "Well, no. Not really." *thoughtful frown* "I don't really have a reason but doesn't that make it special? There's just something... Will you give me your number?"

By this point I'm bordering on amusement and horrified embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I don't give out my number."

"Why not?"

"I'm working. I just don't give out my number."

He stares at me a moment or so. "How 'bout this. How about two weeks. Give me two weeks to break you in slowly."

O_o "I don't--"

"Two weeks."

I frown. "What happens at the end of two weeks?"

*insert big grin* "You give me your number and I give you a call. Go to the movies or something."

I raise an eyebrow. "Right...." I resist the urge to tell him good luck.

"You'll give me two weeks?"

I step further away from him, turning with a disbelieving laugh giggle. "If you say so."

I disappear behind the counter and out of sight where I wince and cringe and mutter, "Why me?"

My manager demands to know what just happened and I glance over my shoulder and move closer to explain what happened. She looks at me in disbelief and says, "Why didn't you tell him you had a boyfriend?"

"I don't know!" Maybe because I never thought to lie?

Anyway, depending on how persistent this guy is, I just might claim I have a boyfriend. Maybe I'll even wear the cubic zirconia I have stashed away somewhere if this keeps up. Seriously, this is the second time in the span of a week. This never happens to me. I wonder if I'm putting out some kind of pheromones.