Chapter 5 #2
It isn’t. We can get food from literally any of the packhouses between our lands. They were always stacked—at least mine were. Aiden knows that. I know that. And yet I find myself chewing on my lip as I catch sight of the headlights in the distance.
“Live a little,” Aiden encourages, glancing at me with a glint in his eyes that does unfortunate things to my insides. “Besides, I’m driving, so you’re coming unless you want to dive out of the car.”
“Because of the bond,” I mutter as I settle in my seat and ignore the bastard’s victorious chuckles.
“Alright, you’re gonna have to use these.”
Aiden had parked his death machine in front of a large blue building with a name I didn’t recognise and now held out an identical pair of his shades for me. Apparently, the douchebag owned multiple.
“Before you start bitching, I think you can agree that we don’t want anyone freaking out about your eyes in there.”
“I’m not stupid,” I snap, snatching the dark things from him and shoving them on to glimpse the world from his perspective. It’s not nearly as dark as I expect it to be. Instead, they have an almost green tint that paints everything in a sickly light.
I turn towards him, and Aiden immediately snorts.
“I hate you.”
I follow him out of the car and to the building’s entrance, where he shoves his key into the back of one of the large trolleys, and it pops free from the rest. I marvel, wondering if all keys did that, before he shoves it towards me.
“Well, go on,” he grumbles impatiently.
I stare down at the cart. “And do what?”
“Pick all your vegetarian stuff,” he snaps and walks ahead.
I follow, puzzled, even as I study him. Did he bring us all this way because it was easier or because he wanted me to get food suited to my palate? A disturbing bout of happiness surges through me, but I bat it away as I push the cart forward.
Inside, I look over the enormous, brightly-lit space with numerous aisles stacked with all sorts of foods.
Like us, everyone else walks about with their carts.
They fill them up with items without immediately paying for them, which is strange, but there seems to be a section to account for everything at once.
“Have you never been in a grocery store?” Aiden whispers against my ear, making me jerk back.
“No,” I admit while I walk on. “I’ve only gone to school and back.”
Tsking like a schoolteacher, Aiden shakes his head as he takes the lead. “Well, I guess it’s time for you to take a class from the master.”
“I highly doubt it takes much brainpower to fill a cart.” I push past him and grab the closest item to me—a loaf of bread—and dump it in the cart before I turn to face him. “See?”
“Julian!” he hisses with his brows lifting over his shades. “What are you doing? They’re going to kick us out!”
“What?” I grab the bread and shove it back into place, but others come tumbling out. I try to catch them and fix the display while frantically looking around for a guard or other possible attack. “I didn’t know. I-I swear!”
Heavy laughter has my eyes darting back to the fool beside me, the one who’s clutching desperately at his stomach. I sober as my panic withers, replaced swiftly by embarrassment. By the time I’ve shoved the squished loaves back onto their shelf, Aiden is still laughing.
“You are such a little—” I charge like a bull and ram the cart into his ankle.
“Motherfucker!” he howls, hopping away with a barrage of curses.
I run over his foot for good measure. His yelp is like an angel’s song.
“I’ll get you back for that,” he hisses after me while I continue onwards with a satisfied grin.
I watch other shoppers until the workings of this grocery store reveal themselves. I pick food up like them, placing it in my cart, and without the idiot’s help, I manage to get enough food to last me for the next few days.
Aiden trails behind, occasionally tossing things in the cart as if the silent treatment is a punishment. It’s a gift I hope never ends, but then, we enter the snack aisle.
“Cinnamon Toast Crunch!”
Dreams rarely come true.
Aiden snatches one of the large boxes with a bright smile and chucks it into the cart. He’s an excited pup come to life until he looks my way again. “What?”
“I didn’t say a thing,” I reply calmly.
“Do you not like it?” he asks with readied offence. “Or have you never had it?”
“I’ve had the small boxes from the cafeteria,” I say, pushing past him and picking up another box. “But … Lucky Charms are much better.”
I drop the box of my favourite cereal in the cart and continue down the aisle. That should be the end of that, but Aiden races after me, planting himself in front of the cart with a horrified look.
“Take that back.”
“It’s cereal,” I deadpan, but the rapt focus remains.
“You think Lucky Charms are better than Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” he echoes dramatically. “What is wrong with you? Wait, never mind, that was a dumb question. There’s so much.”
“So funny,” I reply dryly.
“I know.” He climbs onto the front of the cart.
I stare at him. “Are you a child?”
“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Now, onwards!”
I push on, hoping he’ll fall off, but Aiden’s grip remains frustratingly firm. He rides the cart like it’s a chariot, because, well, Aiden is a man-child.
And while I’ve always known that, it’s cemented when he laughs at a child who falls down in front of us. And laughs harder when the kid starts to cry.
So, not only is my mate a man-child, he’s a demented one.
At the payment station, Aiden and I fall into an argument about the right way to pack the bags. He doesn’t understand that the soft items need to be separate, and I don’t know how to teach common sense, so we eventually come to an agreement to only pack our own items.
When we’re done, the cheery lady behind the machine leans over with a giddy smile. “Can I just say how perfect you two are together?”
I struggle not to throw up in my mouth.
“No,” I snap, and grab my superiorly packed bags.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Aiden mutters as he gets the rest, leaving the now-sad lady behind.
“That was so wrong,” I say, disgusted.
“I know. It takes a sick person to say something like that.”
My lips twitch at his full-body shudder.
“I hate people like her,” I confess as we walk. “Not happy people, just overly happy people. No one should be that happy.”
“No one. I swear they shit rainbows,”” Aiden says, making me chuckle.
He grins my way, and I can feel his stare even through his shades. It makes Alex stir a little, and that’s all the warning I need to remember who I’m laughing with.
“We should head back,” I cough, picking up the pace. “Morning will come soon.”
When Aiden doesn’t instigate some fresh stupidity, I breathe easier.
I knew the bond was powerful—it had to be when two shared a soul—but the fact that I’d felt even a semblance of joy around Aiden Calderon, of all people, was terrifying. Suddenly, our inability to be apart makes a lot more sense, because if I could run right now, I’d get as far from him as I could.
Aiden and I are noticeably quiet while we pack the groceries into the car, not sharing a word, even when our shoulders brush. Only when he’s behind the wheel does Aiden spare me a glance from the corner of his eye, but he says nothing as he peels out of the lot.
I stare out the window while my thoughts race, fogging my mind so much that I don’t notice we’ve crossed into packlands that aren’t my own until a rush of unfamiliar magic slides over me.
The magic around their borders is different. Thicker somehow, and laced with the scent of pine. His lands smells like him.
“You sure you’re going to be cool with staying here for the night?” he asks, noticing my reaction.
“It’s a little weird, but I’ll live.”
“That’s a first,” he mumbles. I do the adult thing and ignore him. I also flip him off.
“We can head back to your pack sometime tomorrow,” Aiden offers as he pulls up in front of what looks to be a newer and bigger packhouse than mine. It’s several stories tall, a mismatched jumble of colours and styles, as if a different designer had been used for each floor.
“It’s an eyesore, we know,” Aiden chuckles as he looks up at it, “but everyone gets their own little piece of home.”
I warm at the thought of something so wholesome. No one lives in our packhouse, it’s just where my father’s office is, plus some meeting rooms and social areas.
And none of our actual homes are this colourful. My parents were too concerned with the image of the pack to allow it. I never really minded since uniformity made maintenance easier, but this is lovely in its own way.
“Either I’m high, or the great Julian Heil is actually smiling.”
My smile evaporates.
“I was,” I say as I shove the door open, “then you opened your mouth.”
The fresh air is liberating, but when Aiden’s heavy laughter follows—and my heart gallops—it’s impossible to glare at him.
Alex is right. We are so fucked.
My steps slow when Aiden shoves open a door at the end of the packhouse’s top floor. He switches on the lights, revealing a surprisingly clean, spacious apartment. All the furniture is new, sleek, and, very weirdly, Aiden.
“I’ll pack the groceries away,” Aiden says from the kitchen. “You might as well have a look around.”
Eager to do just that, I drop the remaining bags on the marble counter and happily leave him to it. I head for the nearest door.
Inside is a mini office with barely filled bookshelves, a large desk, and a few matching chairs. The second is an empty bedroom that I mentally claim as my own, and the last is another, larger bedroom that already smells like Aiden. Overall, it’s … nice.
I resist the urge to snoop and return to find Aiden stuffing empty plastic bags under the sink. Hands on hips, he turns to me.
“So?” He tilts his head. “Everything to your liking, Mr. Heil, or are the walls the wrong colour?”
“I know you think you’re funny, but you’re not. You’re like a child learning the alphabet.”