21. Mila
Brooklyn and I walk the aisles of King Soopers, a grocery chain I’ve never heard of. It’s bright and well stocked, and while maybe not as great as H-E-B back in Texas, has everything we’re looking for.
Except maybe a cure for rage.
Because Brooklyn’s hit the angry stage over Maverick. As we push our buggies up and down the rows, she continues a circular rant that began in the car on the way here.
“And what the hell was he trying to do, showing off his next lay? What did he expect me to do? Tear her off him and declare my undying love?”
“I don’t think Maverick’s looking for love.”
“So I got too clingy, and this is how he gets rid of me?” Brooklyn’s cart skids into a display of tortilla chips at the end of the row. I leap forward to straighten the stacked boxes before the whole pyramid tumbles.
“I wasn’t even clingy! I’m not a clinger! He came, he conquered, he went to his room!” She taps my shoulder so I’ll stop examining the chip display for structural integrity. “Is this a clingy face?”
I turn and she has this dreamy look, like maybe this moment is the best thing ever happened to her.
“Is that the look you gave him?”
“It’s my standard post-sex look to make sure they know I want them to come back!”
“Do you give it to everyone?” This whole concept is new to me.
“Heck, no. Only the ones I want to come back.”
“Do it again.”
She shifts from anger back to the content expression so quickly that I wonder if she missed her calling on the big screen. “It looks a little on the love-sick side.”
“What!” She shoves so hard on her cart that it rams the tortilla display again. Several loose chip bags tumble from the top, and I lunge to catch them.
When I have them back in place, I slide her cart away from the stacks. “I mean, maybe not?”
“No, no, no. Go with your first impression.” She pulls out her phone and switches to selfie mode. She makes the face. “Oh, God. I look like I’m in love with him. Do you think he thought I was in love with him?”
“Maybe?” Brooklyn is still new as a friend, so I’m not clear about the best way ahead, not like I would have been with Camille.
“Damn it!” She shoves hard on the cart, and that’s it. It rams the chip boxes, and the bottom row shifts, then the upper section tumbles.
Chip bags fall from the top, banging their way down like rocks careening off a cliff. Crunch, rattle, crash. Boxes and packages pile onto the floor.
A store employee heads our way.
“We gotta go!” I tell her.
She snaps out of it, and we race with our buggies up the aisle, speeding past mothers with toddlers in the seats, shoppers contemplating brands of peanut butter, and a stocker or two filling shelves.
When we’re at the other end of the store in produce, we hide behind the display of apples, which has a tall cardboard sign describing the different varieties.
Then we laugh. It starts as a giggle, but moves on to a full belly-quaking takeover. We sit on the floor between our carts, holding our stomachs, tears in our eyes.
“All this for a dumb boy,” Brooklyn says.
“Maverick is the poster child of dumb boy.”
She closes her eyes. “He sure is good in bed, though.”
This makes me think of Sebastian. I have nothing to compare him to, but does that matter if I love what he does?
Brooklyn smacks my leg. “You’re thinking about boning. Somebody good. Who was it?”
I stammer a moment, my brain not able to come up with any name but Sebastian. “Just a guy.”
“Did you leave some poor broken-hearted cowboy back home?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“Someone recent?” Now she’s sitting up, as if she’s about to get at something.
I shouldn’t have been so emphatic that it wasn’t from home. I could have embellished some old boyfriend.
Except there aren’t any.
“It’s Sebastian, isn’t it?” She lowers her voice. “Everyone thinks you two are doing it. Did you do it in the haunted wing when he came and got you? Everybody thinks you two were doing it.”
Oh my God. How? “They do?”
A woman passes with her cart, staring down at us like maybe she wants to call the manager.
Brooklyn grabs the base of her cart and pulls it in front of us so we’re less noticeable. “You can tell me. Did you know Sebastian before?”
I weight the inequity of our confessions. I know all about her and Maverick. But she knows nothing about me. And if one day Sebastian and I become open with our relationship, this one new friend I’ve made at my job might feel betrayed by my secret.
And yet, this secret could get me fired, or at the very least, on the bad side of Raya and probably HR, and maybe Havannah wouldn’t be as understanding as Sebastian thinks.
But Brooklyn’s already judged my hesitation. “You did! Did he get you hired on? Are you guys a couple on the sly?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I only met him a week ago, the night before we moved in.”
Brooklyn’s face lights up. “Where? How?”
“At a bar.”
“Did you have sex with him? Are you a thing?” She’s excited.
“Please don’t tell anyone. He didn’t know I was an intern. I had just gotten into town.”
“So you did have sex with him?”
I don’t know if I should straight-up admit it. “Our contract says we can’t date anyone who is more than one rung higher in the chain of command.”
“That’s like everyone for us.”
“Exactly.”
Brooklyn sighs. “I guess we can date the kitchen and housekeeping staff.”
“And the other interns.” I shouldn’t have said that, because Brooklyn’s face immediately collapses into upset.
“I’m sorry,” I add. “I don’t know what Maverick is thinking.”
Brooklyn tugs at her hair. “He’ll probably get fired anyway. Raya is not going to put up with him.”
“That’s true.”
We sit for a minute, peering through the silver bars of our carts to watch people walk by.
Then the ridiculousness of where we are hits us both, and we start laughing again.
“Are we hiding behind carts at a grocery store over men?” Brooklyn asks.
I can barely get the words out over my giggles. “We are.”
She unfolds her long legs to stand and reaches a hand down to me. “Well, it’s time we get up and face the world.”
“Even a manager who might be upset about his tortilla chip tower?”
“Nobody saw it. Can’t prove anything.”
I laugh at that. “If you’re Bart Simpson, who does that make me?”
We push our carts as Brooklyn thinks it over. “In the Simpsons world, I think you’re the sexed-up teacher who seduces the principal.”
If only she knew I had no power to seduce anyone. But I like that she thinks I could. It’s exactly what I was going for when I started this whole wretched business of ditching the cherry. To seem experienced. “I can live with that.”
“Let’s get some revenge. Do they have itching powder in grocery stores?”
“Unlikely. But you could always smear petroleum jelly on his door handle. And if you ever get in his apartment, put plastic wrap over the toilet.”
She laughs again. “Mila, you look so sweet and innocent, but behind that pretty face is one malevolent bitch. And I mean that in the best way possible.”
We head to the checkout, and I fairly glow with happiness. A new bestie, and an amazing man on the sly.
This job is working out so much better than I could have possibly hoped.