stay and talk

"Hi Jessica," you say shyly. "Didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah. And what else don't you know?" she responds angrily. "I don't work here. I own the place."

You recall that Jessica's parents owned a drugstore, which by now could be a chain of drugstores. You glance around the place and notice different rows of beauty products. "They probably provided her some start-up capital," you guess to yourself.

"You don't think I can afford to own something like this?" she asks in a challenging tone.

"It... it's not that. Just wo... wondering why you're mad at me. Wh... why do you still call me that?"

"Me mad? You haven't yet seen me when I'm mad! As for your being Peed-Pants Nick, well, what's wrong if I call you that?"

You realize your conversation, if you could call it that, is getting nowhere. Maybe you should leave now before hell breaks loose. But you realize that you may not get the opportunity to tell her what you have been wanting to, all these years.