Troy was not an obvious target for lusty objectification. My boyfriend of two years was wholly mortified. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands off you when I see you in that sexy apron.” Troy and I had just completed our new employee training when I got sick. Troy and I had taken the safer route by getting hired by America’s Best Cookie: “Where home-baked goodness is as easy as ABC!” The recession had hit other businesses hard, but in times of trouble, Americans evidently comforted themselves with Chocolate Chippers and Fat-Free Fudgies. The pay was slightly better on the boardwalk, as were the odds that you’d lose a finger while operating the Tilt-A-Whirl because that’s what happened when hungover minors helmed heavy machinery.

The rest took their chances at Casino Pier in Seaside Heights. The mall also provided summer employment for roughly half of our high school’s working class. For that reason alone, the mall was the center of the universe for bored hordes of suburban teens with limited spending money and infinite time to waste. Never referred to by its full name-always and only “the mall”-this capitalist mecca wasn’t the biggest or the best or the newest our state had to offer, but it was the closest. This 900,000 square foot monument to consumerism was Pineville, New Jersey’s, de facto downtown. The Parkway Center Mall was home to 105 specialty shops, three department stores, and two movie screens. “Not now, Cassandra,” Troy said without slowing down. I got a mouthful of earlobe instead of lips. I angled for a kiss as Troy turned his head to check his watch. I was barely keeping it together on the short walk from the parking lot to our jobs at the food court. Troy and I absolutely needed to have sex. By the end of my confinement, I’d come to a course-altering conclusion: Luckily for him, I’d spent that time at home alone convalescing and contemplating the state of our relationship. We had gone from seeing each other every day to not at all, and I could tell Troy was a bit discomfited by the space forcibly put between us.

After six weeks of quarantine, I was finally reunited with my boyfriend, Troy. It was by far the best mood I’d been in since the night in late May when I’d landed in the ER with a teeth-chattering, bone-rattling case of mono. Less than five minutes into my triumphant return to the mall, I was targeted for assassination by a rabid spritzer from Bath & Body Works.īefore the ambush, I was as happy as anyone making minimum wage could possibly be.

The mall by megan mccafferty