GENRE: YOUNG ADULT
Damon heard a rustling behind him; the crunching of paper, shuffling of boxes, and high-pitched cursing. Shaking his head, he took a sharp breath and called, "Ms. Peterson? Do you need help organizing the postcards? I already unpacked the most recent order."
He pulled himself from his seat at the counter, and trudged to the backroom, his messy auburn hair falling in front of his eyes. "Ms. Peterson, you don't have to work on Thursdays. Remember Melanie told us she was cutting our hours," Damon said as he pushed up the door.
"Oh!" He jumped backward, placing his hands above his head. "I'm sorry..."
He peered at the girl in front of him. She was splayed on her back, tangled in an ornate cinnamon-colored gown that reminded Damon of something his little sister would have worn around Halloween.
"Are you going to just stare or are you going to help me?" The girl snapped, attempting to stand up but tripping over her bell skirt. Damon's ears stood up at the sound of her voice. She had a distinct accent, making her voice ring with a musky aroma.
Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms. "Your dress seems to be eating you." He grinned. "Are you here for study abroad? You do realize you don't have to dress in honor of your country's cultural heritage," he paused, studying her round face, "even though it does add some flavor."