At checkout, I have to shove my hands deep into my pockets to keep from whipping my wallet out and insisting that I pay. Halle would eviscerate me if I tried to pay for her brothers’ things. It’s not my place, anyway, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to help. If I can make things easier on someone else, why wouldn’t I?
Before Halle can get to the bags, I scoop them all up and head for the exit.
“I could’ve gotten those,” she says, her feet tapping against the pavement as she catches up with me.
“I know you could’ve, but I have them.”
She narrows her eyes at me as I set the bags in the back seat.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a savior complex?”
Savior complex?
Huh.
She might have a point.
“No.”
She plants her hands on her hips. “I’m pretty sure you do.”
“You’re probably right,” I give her a smirk. No sense in arguing. I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to people I care about. “Hungry?”
She frowns. “Huh?”
“Are you hungry? You know, that thing where your stomach demands food?”
The smallest of smiles plays on her lips. “I think I like it when you’re sarcastic.”
I grin. “Good to know.” I shut the door and hit the lock button on my fob. “There’s a burger place over here. I can’t come this way and not stop.”
“You come this way often?” She crinkles her nose. “Never mind. That sounded like a cheesy pickup line.”
I slow my steps so we’re side by side and bump her arm lightly. “You got any others to try on me?”
“Oh, God.” She lets out a groan, but in a matter of seconds her lips twitch like she’s trying not to laugh. “One time, a guy approached me and said ‘dating is a numbers game, so can I get yours?’”
I bark out a laugh. “Too bad you alreadyhave my number.”
At the crosswalk, we pause, and she squints against the sun for what has to be the third or fourth time today.
Head bowed, I take my sunglasses off and hold them out. “Here.”
She shoots me a funny look. “Huh?”
I wave them in front of her. “Take them. You’re squinting.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” The crosswalk lights up, and we carefully step out into the road. “This is the place, right?” She points at the Al’s Burgers sign at the strip mall ahead.
“That’d be the one.” I push the glasses closer again. “Take them. It’ll make me feel better.”
With a sigh, she slips them on. “Thank you, but I promise you I would’ve been fine without them.”
As we approach the small mom-and-pop restaurant, I jog ahead of her and pull the door open.
“Thanks,” she says again, taking off my sunglasses and holding them out to me.
“Keep them for now.” I wave her off and navigate toward the counter to order. “What would you like?”
