Page 102 of Someone Like Me
I loop the cable of the lock around my frame before snaking it through his. “Something important.”
Drew crosses his muscled arms over his chest and raises a brow. “Something important,” he echoes flatly, but I’d bet everything I have that he knows exactly what I’m up to. And he’s doing his best to keep me from reading just how he feels about it.
“Yep.” I saunter inside the store with Drew just a few steps behind me. It takes me a moment to find the personal care aisle. And then I need to make a decision. In front of me are two Trojan options. The inconspicuous three-pack and the more committed, we’re-in-this-for-the-long-haul thirty-six count “Value Pack.”
Three is not enough. Not nearly enough. If I’m being honest, I don’t think thirty-six is enough either, but if I reach for that box — and I want to — Drew will think I’m crazy. Or horny. Or crazier and hornier than he already does.
So the three-pack it is. I pluck it off the hook, and the moment I do, Drew makes a grab for it. But I’m quick.
“Hey, now,” I scold, holding the condoms away from him and putting my body between him and my hand. “These are mine. You can get your own.”
His arched brow climbs even higher, but his eyes are dancing. “Get my own?” His voice is gruff with unspent laughter.
I nod. “You heard me.”
Drew purses his lips and shrugs. “‘Kay.” And then he snatches up the “Value Pack” and takes off for the counter.
“Hey, wait a minute,” I call after him. “I was going to get those, but I didn’t want you to think—” I stop because how am I going to explain this?
He swings his gaze to me. “You didn’t want me to think what?”
I put my hands on my hips a blow out a frustrated breath through my nose. I’m frustrated because I don’t want to try to explain this in the middle of the Circle K and because I’m blushing again for the second time in five minutes.
I scowl. “You know.” My answer is petulant, but that’s all he’s going to get.
His face is stoic, except I recognize the non-smile, and I’m about to call him on it when he closes the distance between us, hooks me by the back of the neck, and plants a hard kiss on my lips.
The shock of it makes me rock on my heels, but he’s got me, so I know I’m not going down. The kiss is over in seconds, but when he pulls back, Drew is grinning.
“I wouldn’t think that, Guppy.” And then he turns and heads for the register. I follow again with my skimpy three-pack. But it’s now become a point of honor that I buy it.
At the counter, Drew throws me a doubtful look. “You’re not going to let me pay for that, are you?” he says, nodding toward the box in my hand.
“Nope.”
Pressing his lips together, he nods. “‘Kay. Ladies first.” And then he ushers me in front of him. The clerk behind the counter, a young guy with a puff of curly hair that stands almost straight up, eyes us and our purchases with mingled respect and wariness.
“Would you like a bag for that?” he asks me.
“No thanks,” I say, sliding my debit card into the chip reader. “Plastic bags are the devil.”
Drew cracks up beside me. I shoot him a glare. “Well, it’s true!” I punch in my PIN and then scoot to the side for him to complete his purchase.
A moment later, we are back outside — sans plastic bags — mounting the bikes again.
“So Hindu goddesses can come to your rescue, and plastic bags are the devil,” Drew observes as we roll back onto St. Landry.
I slide my gaze to him to find a look of amused self-satisfaction. It’s a really good look for him. In this moment, beside me on the bike, with the sun on his smiling face and the wind tousling his thick waves as we ride, he looks more at ease than I’ve ever seen him. I can’t help but feel I might be part of the reason why. And that makes me proud.
“You’re learning, Moroux,” I tease, and this makes him laugh.
I love making him laugh. And I manage to do it plenty on the rest of the ride home, telling him about the time I lit some amber incense in my bedroom and set off the smoke alarm. It was in the middle of the night, and I’d woken up my whole family.
We’re both laughing at this as we turn onto St. Patrick Street, and my breath halts. Because my whole family is emerging from Mom’s Volvo parked in our driveway.
At my gasp, Drew’s gaze moves from me to the street ahead. “Are those your parents?” he asks, sounding surprised.
And if he’s surprised, I’m shocked.
