This short story will be unbeta'd.

I haven't been home for over four years since I left for college. Not that I'm an ungrateful child, but my parents have just always opted to fly out to Arizona to see me during the holidays instead of having me flying out to Washington. I guess my mom's using me as an excuse to get away from the greenness of Forks even for just a while, or whatever. Anyway, now I'm back home for good, having just graduated from the University of Arizona with a degree in Creative Writing, and was looking for a job. I'm not trying to be picky but there's only just so much I could do in Forks with my degree. It doesn't help that it's such a small town that the people I practically grew up with were still living here, either running their family businesses or breeding the next batch of Forks High School's Spartans.

Still, it felt good to be home. No more projects, deadlines, and no more terror professors.

My mom asked me to go to the quaint little store by the end of the block to get her some cherries. Now, I rarely disobey my parents, but I almost pleaded my way out of this errand because I didn't want to go there. Not that there's anything wrong with the store, per se, nor with the staff. Mrs. McCarty was a nice old lady who has a penchant to wear too much perfume and lipstick, and she may seem overbearing at first, but once you get to know her, she's really easy to talk to. And she sells those sweet, juicy cherries that she grew in her backyard.

I don't know why, but I've always felt uneasy the moment I'd step foot inside the store at the end of the block. Like something life-altering or whatever was going to happen if I stayed any longer. Not that I wasn't up for anything adventurous or exciting, but I just always get some gut-feeling as soon as I near the store's vicinity. Now, as I take slow, deliberate steps towards Mrs. McCarty's store, my heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of my chest. I placed my palm against my heart and took a deep breath, steeling myself before reaching a hand out to push the door open.

The bell chiming above the door signals my entrance. The first thing that I notice as I step foot over the threshold is Mrs. McCarty sitting behind the counter, her head nodding off in her sleep. I quickly scanned the store and see that it appeared to be empty. I was just about to turn around when I caught the sight of Emmett, Mrs. McCarty's son and my cousin Rosalie's husband, coming out of the employees' area. I let out a small sigh and smiled at him in acknowledgement. Emmett waved back, his dimples showing as he grinned at me. I was never really close to him so I simply nodded and after a few seconds of terse silence, I inched my way towards the back of the store where I knew those damned cherries were placed.

Every aisle that I passed was empty, the hollow lightning of the fluorescents overhead was giving the store an eerie vibe. This was why I didn't like coming in here, I thought to myself. It felt like something was always lurking in the corner, just waiting for me to take a step in the wrong direction. Shaking off these thoughts, I turned around the corner with my eyes scanning the displays on the shelf in front of me.

I knew that Mrs. McCarty would usually store the cherries from the third bottom shelf to the top, so my brows furrowed when I saw that the whole area was empty. I don't think I remember a day where the cherries weren't available. Mrs. McCarty grew them herself, and with Emmett's help, I knew that they always have their supplies stocked at their house. I highly doubt that they had changed the store's floorplan as Mrs. McCarty has not changed it since it opened back in the '70s, so the notion that I was at the wrong aisle was highly unlikely. Turning back, I retraced my steps and headed to the store's front to ask Emmett or Mrs. McCarty about those darn cherries.

Before I could round back around the corner, a flash of bronze between the shelves caught my eye. My heart inexplicably thundered wildly in my chest and I was afraid that I was having a heart attack. I craned my neck to catch it again, but whomever has that strange tint on his or her head was already gone. Shaking my head, I trudged to where Mrs. McCarty was sleeping, determined to get those cherries and get out of here before my heart gave out on me.

"Hey, Bella," Emmett greeted me from behind the counter. Mrs. McCarty was nowhere in sight.

"Hi, Em," I murmured, stepping closer to him. "You ran out of cherries?"

I caught the glint in his eye, and I just knew that he has something lewd at the tip of his tongue. Thankfully, his mother chose that moment to scramble from the employees' area.

"Welcome to the Lucky McCarty Store, Isabella," Mrs. McCarty croaked as she hip-checked Emmett behind the counter. "I haven't seen you in here for a while. Trying to run away?"

Behind her, I could see Emmett stifling his laughter.

You see, that's just the thing. It seemed that my family has just been too lucky while in the Lucky McCarty Store. They say it's fate, but when you feel like you're not yet ready for it, you try to deflect it as much as you can. The real reason why I was hesitant to go here was because at least five members of my immediate and extended family had met their husbands or wives while shopping here. It should have been goddamned unlikely, but there I was, having attended five or so weddings that started at the aisles of the fucking Lucky McCarty Store. Hell, the tradition even started with my parents.

So, my mom has just moved from Arizona when she literally bumped into my dad while grocery shopping with her sister. They always said that it was love at first sight, and I have always scoffed at the notion given that I knew my mom tends to see the world through her rose-colored glasses. Or maybe I was just a cynic. Anyway, my mom said that she just knew that she'd marry my dad, and true enough, they did get married the next year and had me nine months later. As far as I know, my parents have had a happy life together, and for that I am thankful. I just wish that my mom would stop badgering me about going to the store every day, hoping that I'd get to be as lucky as she and my dad were. I mean, I'm all for destiny and all, but you just can't force it on someone who's not yet ready for whatever it was that was intended to happen. Okay, so maybe it wasn't that I'm not yet ready, but maybe I just don't want it to define my life, in the way that my mom and my relatives did.

"I'm not running away," I whispered, shaking my head as I cleared my thoughts and focused back on Mrs. McCarty.

She was looking at me knowingly, and I wondered for the hundredth time if maybe my childhood imagination hadn't really been that creative and that Mrs. McCarty was indeed a witch. She had a glint in her eye, not the same teasing one in Emmett's eye, but it was like she knew something I wasn't privy to.

"Of course not, dear," she said, clasping her long fingers together and propping her chin on them. "You're here, aren't you?"

I nodded mutely at her, transfixed with the shine in her eyes. "I, uhm, there are no cherries in the back?"

"There's one more at the top shelf," she told me, "Just for you, dear Isabella."

I stared at her for a while, trying to figure out if she's being cryptic or if there's literally one jar of cherry left on the top shelf. The uncanny shine in her eyes seemed to glow brighter as we looked at each other. I couldn't look away from her even if I wanted to, my feet firmly planted in front of the counter as Mrs. McCarty seemed to weave some magic on me.

She broke the spell first, her words jolting me from my trance.

"Go now, child. Before you miss it."

"Okay," I whispered, my voice suddenly hoarse. "Thank you, Mrs. McCarty."

She tutted at me, her hands shooing me away. I silently made my way to the back of the store, my mind floating back to what my mom has always told me.

She always said that when destiny finds you, there's nothing you can do about it. I thought it was horseshit, that destiny exists only for those who were too lazy to make their own paths. Instead, they'd just let the world revolve around them, relying on whatever it was that happens and think that it was fate or something. I had even told my mom that I would burn down the Lucky McCarty Store just to show her that it was all just a mere coincidence; her meeting my dad, my aunts, and my cousins all having the same fate inside this store. She thought I was joking, but I was seriously considering it back then. And maybe even now.

I was so lost in my mind that I reached the back of the store without me noticing my surroundings. Rounding the corner, I kept my head down as I approached the shelf. I was just moving to reach for the jar on the top shelf when a new set of feet entered my vision. My arms faltered and I turned to face the other person, my eyes instinctively followed the shoes' owner, coming face to face with the customer with the bronze hair. He was standing probably a foot taller than me, his messy bronze hair sitting atop his chiseled face. I was certain that I haven't seen him before, but somehow it felt like I knew his face, like I knew him. I stared unabashedly at him, my head tilting to the side as he smiled his crooked grin at me. I lowered my arms and clenched my hands at my sides, fighting the urge to reach out and stroke his face. This wasn't some normal behavior for me. I never had the desire to touch a stranger's face the first time I saw them. But with this man, it was all I could think about.

"Hi," he greeted, sidestepping me and moving towards the shelf behind me.

Oh, no you don't.

Faster than lightning, I blocked his arm from reaching for the jar. My whole body was standing between this man's body and the shelf, a hairsbreadth of space sitting idly between our chests. I stood on my tiptoes to reach his eyes, my no-nonsense attitude firmly painted on my face.

"That's mine," I told him firmly.

"Uh, what is?" he asked, looking utterly confused.

I gestured to the shelf behind me, my arm brushing his chest. His eyes followed my movement although I could see that he lingered on my face for a while, which caused the reddening of my cheeks.

"Does it have your name on it?"

'"What-" I sputtered as he raised an eyebrow. "No."

"Then anyone could buy it," he concluded, sounding and looking smug.

He reached out again, and I scrambled to beat him to the top shelf. My hand groped wildly behind me as I trained my eyes on him but I still came up blank. I turned to him with a disbelieving look on my face as he held the jar above his head as if it were a trophy.

"Aha!" he exhaled, looking all too pleased with himself.

"Asshole," I mumbled under my breath.

This caught the stranger's attention; he paused his victory dance to look at me in surprise. "What did you call me?"

"I said," I started, pausing for dramatic effect, "That you are an asshole."

He burst out in laughter, the sound ringing in my ears. I pinned him with my steely gaze as he looked at me with amusement shining in his eyes. I could see the smirk flirting on the edge of his mouth, and it irritated me further. I mean, to think about it, I didn't even want the cherry that much. But I have this feeling in my gut, like there was something profound that I have to acknowledge, and I don't like it. Not one bit.

If I ever get the chance to burn down this place, I would make sure that this asshole was locked up inside.