Humor tinges every syllable of Jonathan’s words as he says, “She sounds like you back in high school. How scary could she be?”
Rolling my eyes, I feel along the wall beside me, flicking up the light switch. It doesn’t make it very bright, but I can see him propped up against a crate, a smirk on his lips.
“She writes fanfic,” I tell him. “The self-insert kind.”
His smile only grows.
“I’m not taking about Breezeo. Oh no, I’m talking Johnny Cunning fanfic. Erotica.”
The first flicker of concern shows on his eyes, but he still smiles. “So did you.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s completely different.”
“Still, she’s just a girl with fantasies,” he says. “Nothing to hide from.”
“True, but do you really think she’ll keep it to herself? Come on, her idol shows up where she works? The only way it could ever be more fic-come-true is if we were working in a coffee shop here. Before you even made it out the door, it would be all over social media. But I mean, unless that’s what you want…”
He shakes his head.
Didn’t think so.
It grows quiet for a moment before he says, “Kale.”
“Kale?”
“That’s why I’m here. I needed to grab kale.”
“Oh.”
That’s all I say.
It grows quiet again.
Awkward.
There are no windows in here, making the room feel impossibly small. Just him and I, confined together after all this time, breathing the same air, the room filled to the brim with strained silence. So much to say, but no words strong enough to clear the air between us.
“I wish shit wasn’t so weird,” he says eventually. “I wish you weren’t so distant.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when people break up.”
“I know, I just wish there was a way we could…”
“Could what?”
He doesn’t answer right away, looking away from me like he’s struggling to find a way to explain. Forget? Move on? Start over?
“Be,” he says. “I wish we could just be.”
For such a talented actor, he wasn’t always good at expressing himself with me, but then again, I wasn't much better. Maybe that was why we worked so well. He spoke through the characters he played, and I… well, I used to create. The two of us always seemed to be on the same page until the day we just weren’t anymore, and there was no way to get back to that place once we struggled so much to communicate.
But for a time, we just… were.
It’s the most comforting feeling in the world.
When you lose it, though, it’s the most confusing. It’s like losing a piece of your soul.
“I’m sorry,” he says, glancing at me again.
“How many times are you going to apologize?”
“As many as it takes until you believe me.”
“I do,” I say. “I believe you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I do.”
He stares at me when I say that. He doesn’t respond, but I can tell he’s holding back some reaction.
“Anyway, we should get you out of here before you get spotted,” I say, pushing away from the door. “I can grab your kale for you.”
I turn to leave but he stops me, grabbing my arm as he stands up from the crate. I tense, letting out a shuddering exhale when he pulls me to him. It’s just a brief moment as he holds me there, a breath away, so close that if I stood on my tiptoes, I could taste his lips if I wanted to.
I do.
Or at least some part of me, deep down, does, a stirring in my gut that almost spurs me on. The moment he touches me, it’s like I’m drunk. But the moment is over just like that when he says, “I also need milk.”
His voice, those words—they sober me up. “Milk.”
“Yes,” he says, letting go of my arm. “If you don’t mind.”
“Uh, sure, no problem.”
I walk out, and he follows, diverting halfway through the store to head for the exit while I grab his stuff. I don’t hear any frantic screams, so I assume he made it out.
Bethany lingers at her register, not paying attention to any of her surroundings, flipping through the latest edition of Hollywood Chronicles.
“Anything interesting?” I ask, setting the kale and the milk on the conveyer belt.
Bethany sighs, tossing the tabloid aside. “Not really. I swear it’s like Johnny Cunning vanished into thin air. Nobody has seen him anywhere.”
My eyes flicker to the exit, catching a faint glimpse of him lurking outside. “I’m sure he’s… around.”
“I hope so,” she says. “Ugh, I hope he’s not like, dead in a ditch somewhere. That would suck.”
“Yeah, it would,” I agree as she rings the stuff up.
After I pay for it, she picks the tabloid back up and continues reading. I make my way outside once she’s distracted, carrying the bag to where Jonathan lingers.
“Here,” I say, shoving it at him. “Your milk and your kale so you can go feed ducks or whatever you’re doing with it.”
He lets out a light laugh. “It’s for me. Doctor’s orders.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Ah, could be worse.”
“If you say so,” I mumble, glancing at my watch. “I should get back to work.”
I go to head back to the store when he calls out to me. “K?”
I glance at him, words on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t get a single syllable out. The look on his face stuns me into silence, the vulnerability, like he’s splitting himself open right now.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
I nod, hesitating before saying, “If you change your mind about eating the kale, I’m sure Maddie would be happy to help you get rid of it.”
He smiles. It’s a genuine smile, unconscious, like happiness is radiating from inside of him at that suggestion. I don’t say anything else, nor do I wait for his response. Being around him is proving dangerous for my feelings. Dangerous to my sanity.
I head back into the store, strolling past Bethany at her register. She sets the tabloid down to look at me. “Didn’t you just leave?”
“I stepped outside,” I say. “I still have another hour until my shift is over.”
“What did you do with your stuff?”
“Put it in my car.”
“Even the milk?”
“Uh… yeah.”
“But won’t it go bad in this heat?”
“Probably.”
She stares at me, mumbling, “I swear, you’re so weird sometimes.”
“I should cancel.”
“You should do no such thing.” Meghan’s voice is pointed, matter-of-fact, don’t you freaking argue with me when she says that. “What you should do is take the guy for a ride, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Meghan…”
“I’m serious,” she says. “Just a quick spin around the block to see how he runs, make that engine purr for a little while.”
“Since when are you pro-Drew?”
“I’m not.” She makes a face of disgust. “I’m pro-orgasm, and I know it’s been a long while since you’ve had one.”
I laugh… until a little voice chimes in, asking, “What’s that?”
Maddie sits at the kitchen table across from Meghan, swinging her legs as she draws her heart out on a piece of paper.
“What’s what?” I ask, leaning back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over my chest.
“What Aunt Meghan said,” Maddie says. “What’s the orga, uh…?”
“Organism,” I blurt out, realizing she’s about to ask us what an orgasm is.