I grab the small brown bottle from the shelf and drop it into the cart.She smiles faintly.
“Thanks.”The word is soft and polite, like she’s thanking a stranger instead of someone who just watched her boyfriend tear into her in public.
We start walking again.The wheels of the cart squeak slightly with every turn.Normally that sound would annoy me, but right now my brain is too busy replaying the last ten minutes on a loop.
Emette’s voice.The sneer in his expression.The way Quinn’s face fell when he said the wordstupid.
Old ghosts stir in my chest.Because I’ve heard that tone before.Directed at me.Years ago.Back when Emette Black ruled the hallways of Franklinton High like he owned the damn place.
Funny how some people never grow out of being assholes.
“You don’t have to stay,” Quinn says suddenly.
I glance over.“What?”
She pushes a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.“You probably have better things to do than babysit me while I shop.”
“I’m not babysitting.”
“You kind of are.”I stop walking and she stops, too, looking back at me with mild confusion.“What?”
“You think helping someone finish their grocery shopping counts as babysitting?”I ask.
She shrugs slightly.“It’s not exactly thrilling.”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On the company.”
Her lips twitch.There it is.That almost-smile.I’m calling that progress.
“Well,” she says lightly, “I hope you’re not expecting entertainment.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”She turns back toward the shelves and grabs a bag of powdered sugar.“Because my grocery trips are extremely boring.”
“Oh, I disagree.”
“Oh?”She quirks a brow.
“Watching someone bake ingredients into cupcakes that disappear in under ten minutes is fascinating.”
She laughs softly.“I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“You only help me because you want the baked goods.”
I consider that for a moment.“I’m not saying that’snota factor.”
Her smile widens a little and the tension in her shoulders eases slightly.Good.That was the goal.
We reach the end of the aisle and turn toward the dairy section.For a few moments we walk in silence but it’s not the awkward kind.It’s the kind that settles comfortably between two people who don’t feel the need to fill every second with noise.
Still ...the conversation from earlier keeps clawing at the inside of my skull.Emette’s voice and his disgusting insults.The way Quinn tried to brush it off like it was normal.
