But the clerk barely acknowledges us. Doesn’t say hello, doesn’t look up. She just starts ringing up items with the aggressiveness of a person who hates their job. I notice the smile on Sam’s face falter, and she looks at me as if to mentally see if I saw that, too.
The woman lets out a deep breath and pretty much throws the items in the bag.
“Total’s sixty-nine fifty-seven.”
Annoyed by the woman’s actions, Sam peers at her while digging into her back pocket and holds out a twenty-dollar bill. “Sorry, this is all I have.”
“I’ve got it.” I wedge myself in front of the card reader and pull my card out of my wallet to pay.
“Thanks,” she says and returns her money to her pocket and grabs the bag from the lady.
Sam walks away before I can take the receipt, and I have to take long strides to catch up with her outside.
“That type of stuff really bothers me,” she says.
Tucking my wallet into my back pocket, I reach down to take the bags from her.
When we reach the car, I unlock the passenger side, waiting for Sam to climb inside.
“That doesn’t get under your skin?”
“Some stuff just isn’t worth the energy. She could have been having a bad day.” I hand her the bags then close her in. The moment I’m seated behind the wheel, Sam turns to me.
“How are you always just so… calm? It’s like nothing bothers you. Just Mr. Perfect, all the time.” Her eyes narrow on me. “Do you even curse? Like ever?”
“No.”
“You’re infuriatingly impossible.” She faces forward, a soft laugh escaping her.
“Cursing is just a crutch for people who can’t express themselves properly.”
“Okay. I’ll bite.” She crosses her arms and turns to me again. “What does that mean?”
I tip my head. “It’s a lack of self-control and is, oftentimes, not very effective.”
“Did you just call me emotionally immature?” she asks sarcastically.
I fight the urge to laugh. “I’m saying that I don’t need to curse anyone out to make my point.”
“Yeah. It still sounds like you’re clowning me.”
The chuckle wins. “I’m not. All I’m saying is, the lady might have been having a bad day, and we should give her a break.”
Sam stares at me for a moment, a playful gleam behind her eyes, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say there was something else there, too.
“Fine. You win. But if you’re going to be all kumbaya this whole project, I don’t think I’ll survive.”
“I believe in you,” I deadpan, meeting her gaze.
We stay like this for a beat, staring at each other without a word between us. Suddenly the moment feels charged, like there’s so much we want to say but haven’t quite built the courage to. I glance to her mouth, locking the shape to memory, and find myself wanting to know what she tastes like. Then she smiles at me, and my heart skips a beat. There’s something about this girl, something about the unfamiliar feelings I get whenever I’m in her presence. And if I don’t reel this in, if I cross that line, I’m not sure either of us will be able to come back from that.
“We should go,” I say but don’t pull my eyes away from her mouth.
As if to purposely taunt me, Sam licks her lips. I groan at that, my hands fisting the steering wheel to keep me grounded.
“That’s probably for the best,” she says, pinning me with a look that’s so close to getting us both in trouble.
I start the engine, stealing one final glance before pulling off to our next destination.
