I was pulled from my world of reading thanks to the new customer standing before me. I was a little weirded out because I hadn’t even heard him approach. I looked up from my book, ready to comment on the price, but stopped short, momentarily struck by his appearance. The young man was tall, with light brown skin and hair a deep burgundy. He was obnoxiously gorgeous, with a broad nose, sharp jawline, and beautiful full lips. His eyes were a stunning hazel and I found myself staring into them as he stood there, waiting for my answer. What stunned me the most was the fact that he had elf ears and was holding a staff.

“Well?” he asked, a flirtatious grin crossing his face.

A sharp pain flashed shot my temple and I winced in pain. The feeling was so intense that I felt dizzy, if just for a moment.

Taya…Ae…. a voice whispered in my head.

My hand was shaking as I reached up to put pressure on the side of my face that was still stinging. Am I hearing voices? I wondered.

“Miss?” the young man called out, slightly more urgently. I glanced up at him only to find he had changed. The elf ears and staff were gone. He was looking at me quizzically, I’m sure, concerned by my long pause and the intense look on my face. I was staring at him now, amazed at his normal appearance.

Okay, not ‘normal’, he’s super hot, I mumbled internally. I realized my insomnia must have caught up to me because there was no way this guy had elf ears and a giant stick a few seconds ago. "Um, the apple butter is five dollars," I finally managed to respond.

The young man picked up a nearby jar, squinting down at the label as he debated the cost. While he was distracted I greedily continue my inspection. His burgundy hair was long, even longer than Casimir’s, trailing down past his mid-back. I decided it had to be dyed because no one on Earth had a hair color like that without chemical help. What I found most fascinating was the ornate braids and plaits woven into his ponytail, you rarely saw a hairstyle that fancy on a guy around here. For his clothing he wore an open black double-breasted coat, exposing his plain white t-shirt underneath. I could see a silver chain around his neck flash brightly in the sunlight. His jeans were shiny dark grey and full of holes held up by thick black belts, dotted with studs. I couldn't see his shoes from behind the booth but imagined he wore large boots favored by the alternate crowd. He seemed almost familiar but I couldn’t place his face. His husky voice brought me back into the moment.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Is this homemade?" he repeated.

I nodded, deciding to stand up so I could better hear him over the hubbub of the market. "Yes it’s homemade, made by a local woman in fact." I readjusted my apron as I spoke, tightening the straps behind me.

The handsome young man placed the jar back on its shelf and crossed his arms, tilting his head in thought. A few more moments passed and he was still staring. I suppressed a groan, wondering if he was just here to mess with me. It wasn't uncommon for boys to approach the booth and pretend to be customers just to ask me out. I nervously tightened the band on my ponytail, wishing he would make up his mind. I knew I shouldn’t but I attempted to read his emotions, curious as to what he was feeling. He wasn’t a strong broadcaster, I could only sense indecision, which made sense.

"Would you like a sample?" I asked, gesturing to the cloche in front of me on the table. It was a glass dome covering tiny biscuits, which were smothered in apple butter. Next to the sample tray was a very large sign I had painted proclaiming 'Try One.' I wasn't trying to sound sarcastic but my lack of sleep and thin patience betrayed me.

The young man's eyes followed my finger to the sample tray. His face broke into a coy smile as he looked back at me. "Sure," he replied.

I let my arm drop, not returning his smile. In one swift movement, he lifted the glass top and was holding the tiny biscuit delicately between his long fingers before popping it quickly in his mouth.

“How is it?” I said, not really caring.

"Oh man, it’s amazing," he chuckled, sounding somewhat surprised. I gave him a thin smile as he brushed the crumbs off on his jeans. The young man craned his head to look down the road, looking for someone. "Maya, get over here!"

I followed his gaze to watch as one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen, jogged over to my booth. I only assumed that they were a woman because of their clothes, but to be honest I felt like I could be wrong. I almost sighed out loud due to envy as I examined her beauty and trendy clothes. She was wearing shorts, which seemed odd to me for October weather, but also had on a bright blue polka-dot shirt, with a long deep blue sweater that flared behind her as she walked. Her long shapely legs were decked out in dark thigh-highs and then tucked into a pair of cute blue saddle shoes. Maya's face was heart-shaped with a slender nose, pouty lips, and a smattering of adorable freckles on her cheeks and across her nose. Her eyes were a bright blue that almost matched her outfit. She was smiling widely as she looked around, her face framed perfectly by her extremely long and wavy strawberry-blond hair that was tied back in a thick braid.

My favorite cream sweater suddenly felt very frumpy and my jeans were full of holes. I knew my makeup was mostly leftover from last night and my hair was hastily thrown into a ponytail. I felt silly for thinking the young man had come to my booth just to hit on me. I took a deep breath, kicking myself for letting my envy over another person's appearance get the better of me.

This seemingly perfect creature, Maya, was locked in conversation with the tall, dark young man. He picked up another sample of the apple butter and then fed it to Maya; the intimacy of the act made me wonder if they were dating.

Maya's eyes widened and she looked over at me. "Oh my gosh, did you make this? It's delicious," she gushed. Her voice was deeper than I expected but I loved the effect. When she smiled at me it was so brilliant and genuine that I felt my heart swell as I looked at her. Calm down, Diana.

"Ah, no. It's made by a local woman. I did help grow the apples though," I said. I found myself flushed as Maya’s happiness flowed off of her in loud waves, she was a very loud broadcaster. "Well, to be honest, it is my grandfather who has a green thumb," I continued. I felt like I was babbling, but I wanted that girl to stand there and smile at me forever. As I spoke the beautiful girl was nodding, digging through her purse.

"Well, my compliments to the chef and your grandfather," she chirped, smiling brightly at me. Maya turned to Azar as she pulled out her wallet a now determined look on her face. "Azar, I’m buying one.”

“Sounds good,” he agreed.

“One jar please!" Maya requested. She pulled out a wad of bills and reached precariously over the booth to hand it to me. She was tall, but not tall enough to reach across the table and over the crate of apples between us. The young man gently scolded her and took the cash from her hand. Effortlessly he reached over the table, placing the money in my hand.

"Let me get your change."

"No change," Azar requested.

"But-"

"Keep it," he insisted as he winked at me. I stiffened and my eyes darted over to Maya, afraid of their reaction. She was smiling as she held the jar of apple butter to her chest, oblivious to the wink. Perhaps she is used to his flirting? A boyfriend like that would drive me crazy.

Maya thanked me and turned to walk away, heading down the cobblestone street. Suddenly the young man snatched an apple from the display. He polished it on his coat and took a bite as my mouth opened in protest. Yes, he had just tipped me the price of a dozen apples, but the sheer gall he had to just take one without asking frazzled me.

He was still smiling as he sauntered off after Maya and I couldn't help but scowl in response. I watched him disappear into the crowd and wondered briefly about the history behind the pair. I could only assume they were tourists spending the weekend in the country but were they dating, friends, or something else? I didn't get to ponder these ideas for long as a wave of customers kept me distracted for the next half hour. Mrs. Frink even stopped by the booth in her search for Grandpa and I was stuck talking to her before she gave up and wandered off. I was just beginning to think Grandpa had forgotten about me when Casimir appeared, a large box of preserves in his arms.

"Sorry that took so long," Casimir apologized. "I got a little lost."

“I thought you forgot about me!” I admitted, watching him as he placed the box on the stack. “Is Grandpa with you?”

“Ah, no,” Casimir admitted. “Uncle George texted me that he got held up. He said he had to meet with someone really quick.”

“Oh shoot! I should check my phone more often,” I muttered. The cell phone reception was so spotty, even in town.

“Were there any problems while I was gone?” Casimir queried, taking off his work gloves and stuffing them in his back pocket.

“Everything was pretty normal,” I said, hesitantly. The memory of Azar and Maya floated across my brain but I ignored it. Despite their quirkiness, they were still decent as far as customers went.

“That’s good,” he said in response.

“Well, I gotta run! I’m meeting Zola and Sunita for coffee,” I blurted out, hastily trying to undo my apron as I spoke. I realized I was already running late and didn’t want to be the last person to show.

“Sure,” Casimir responded.

“You gonna be okay at the booth all by yourself?” I asked. This was his first time at the farmers’ market and I was suddenly realizing that I didn’t know if he had any customer service experience.

Casimir just smiled at me, nodding in response to my question. “I’ll be fine.”

Anxiously, I blurted out a long list of last-minute instructions as I took off my apron and grabbed my purse. I was quickly explaining the cash box and the location of the hidden water bottle cooler when a wave of guilt overtook me. I should have gone over all of this with him yesterday.

“Will you really be okay?” I pressed. “I can text Zola and say I’ll be late.”

Casimir just smiled and me and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Since I couldn’t sense if he was lying to me, I decided to trust him. I showed Casimir how to work the cash box before finally asking if he had a cell phone, just in case he needed me to come back. We exchanged numbers and waved as I took off towards the coffee shop near the town square’s fountain.