7. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Maeve Henderson
You know, you'd think by now that I'd know better than to go grocery shopping the day before Thanksgiving.
You'd think some part of me would have realized there would be a jumbled mess of last-minute shoppers, but it couldn't be avoided.
Holidays and weekends are the only times the dining hall is closed, and I have no food at home to last me the long weekend.
So, here we are. At the local grocery store that's filled with so many people that I'm actually lucky I even got a cart.
As much as it sucks that I have to stretch my already tight budget even more, I'm glad that it's giving me a little trial run for what I have to look forward to during winter break.
If I can't make it this weekend without blowing my budget, I definitely won't survive two weeks next month and I'll have to go home for the holidays.
That actually sounds worse than starving.
Carlie says she's going home for Christmas and she'll happily give me a ride, but the list of things I'd rather do than visit my mother is longer than the entire encyclopedia.
I want to enjoy the peace and quiet of campus, I want to walk around and enjoy the scenery without a hoard of students ready to trample me at any moment.
I want to be able to watch movies that Carlie hates and make the food that Sean complains smells bad.
It's cabbage, Sean throws a tantrum the moment he sees me even buying cabbage.
I know it's stupid, but I take joy from small things.
Sue me.
It's a blessing and a curse to be at the store the day before Thanksgiving. It's disgustingly packed; there are screaming children, and everybody is buying liquor, but at least the food is well stocked.
The shelves are full and even the end caps are stocked, both with regular groceries and a wide variety of fall-themed foods.
Everything is pumpkin spice or apple flavored and it makes me increasingly jealous that I can't afford the luxuries.
Fall is easily my favorite time of the year! Cinnamon everything, the leaves change, this God-awful heat finally subsides just the slightest, and it's socially acceptable to talk about Halloween non-stop.
I love it.
Or I would love it if I could afford to go all out for fall.
I'd love to have a cabinet in the kitchen dedicated to all the fall foods, but unfortunately, I only have $50 to spare every month for food, which can't be wasted on caramel-coated apples and pumpkin pie.
I hate that my life is like this. I work the maximum number of hours I'm allowed on campus to earn a paycheck and work towards my scholarship, but I don't make enough to allot more grocery money.
I would get another job, but I barely have time to study and have a life as it is. I can't risk falling behind in a class because I am too busy balancing two jobs.
So, I'm stuck.
I know most of the other kids request more from their student loans to pad their wallets, use their financial aid for stuff like this, or their parents give them the money to live, but none of those are an option for me.
It's fine, I've accepted it, mostly.
I've lived on campus for two years now and I've grown used to living broke.
Only this year and next to go before I graduate and can get a good job, one that allows me to eat more than popcorn when I miss dinner at the dining hall.
I make so many laps around this store that I've convinced myself that security is watching me in fear that I'll steal something, but I can't stop staring at the apple cider.
It's my favorite thing about fall!
I remember my grandma taking me to the pumpkin patch every year growing up. We'd pick out a pumpkin, go on a hayride, and then sit outside and sip our apple cider while my grandma ate a shameful amount of donuts.
Well, she thought it was shameful. I always told her to eat more to make up for the fact that they never had gluten-free donuts and to eat at least one for me.
I miss those times. Everything was simple back then, I never had to stand in front of a display of apple cider and wish I had a few more dollars or debate what in my cart I could put back to afford a gallon.
I know it's stupid to choose a seasonal drink over food, but like I said, I enjoy the little things.
“Might I suggest the cabbage, nobody needs four heads of cabbage, do they?" I hear, making me whip my head around and make eye contact with a stunningly gorgeous man standing in front of me.
Wait, I recognize him. It's the man from the cafe a couple of weeks ago.
I didn't think I'd ever see him again. Houston is too big to run into the same stranger twice.
Wait, he was talking to me. Shoot, say something.
Anything.
“It's on sale for a dollar! I can't not buy four heads of cabbage." I reply with a nervous laugh.
Honestly, I can't.
Cabbage is so cheap right now, and it will feed me several times.
I've kind of become an expert on surviving on nothing, and cabbage has endless possibilities!
This man seems to think about my reply for a minute, maybe debating if he's going to argue with me. I don't know, but he looks like his entire wardrobe costs more than what I make in a month.
His shoes probably cost more than everything in my cart, honestly.
"Fair enough. How about this? They're buying one, get one free. What if I were to buy two gallons of apple cider?" He asks me.
I shrug, adjusting my stance slightly under what feels like this man's scrutinizing gaze.
"I'd say you'd be a lucky man. Don't drink it all at once; that's a little too much fiber." I reply.
Wow, Maeve, really?
Insinuate that this guy is going to crap his pants by drinking too much apple cider.
I want to crawl into a hole and die if it avoids how awkward I just made this conversation.
"You've got me there. Do you think you could take the other gallon? Save me from myself?" He asks with a charming laugh that shows off his perfect smile.
I knew it, he really does look like a cover model.
As sweet as his offer is, I don't take charity.
I might be broke, and I know I'm pathetic, but I don't take charity.
I grew up being taught that it's shameful even to accept help; otherwise, I'm sure I could have gotten assistance by now. At least I would be able to feed myself properly, but my mother ruined the image of asking for help.
Thanks, Mom.
"I believe in you." I say instead with a casual laugh and a shrug of my shoulders.
Shoot this is awkward.
How and why do I somehow keep making things worse for myself?
I have to get out of this conversation. I have to get out of this guy's orbit before he sucks me in.
I don't need to get kicked out of college because I misread a situation and ended up in the dean's office for flirting with a professor.
That would be something that would happen to me, I'm that lucky.
So, while this guy debates on his rebuttal, I give a quick goodbye and dart away from him.
Apple cider was the last thing I wanted anyway, so I'm done since I decided it's not worth the loss of real food for it.
I head towards the checkout, seeing a line behind almost every register. Of course there is, I'm going to be here all evening.
Good thing it's Friday night and I have nowhere else to go.
All the girls, plus Sean, already texted me in the group text and said that they were going out drinking, they offered for me to come, but it's not in the budget.
At least I know I will have the house to myself when I get home, and that's fine with me. I can sautee my cabbage in peace and maybe watch an old classic horror movie before bed.
That actually sounds really nice.
By the time I'm done with this mile-long checkout line, the store is almost closed. The manager even got on the intercom as I was loading the belt to tell everyone that the lines were being capped and everyone else would need to return Friday morning.
I'm really glad I got here when I did, otherwise I would have had to go home for Thanksgiving.
I head out of the store with my bags, thankful that it's only two stuffed paper bags since I have to take the bus home.
I'm only a mile from the store, but it's too hot for all that.
As I approach the bus stop, grateful that the bus is already there, he pulls away.
I try to run, to catch the driver's attention before he's too far away to stop, but the bottom of one of my bags gives away, littering my produce across the parking lot.
Shoot.
I drop down to my knees on the hot asphalt to pick up my things, feeling as foolish as I'm sure I look.
And that's not just my opinion, the entire parking lot has stopped what they're doing to watch this little display of me embarrassing myself.
I scoop up everything, shoving it into the one functional bag I have left, and pray that it can survive the walk home since the bus is no longer an option for me.
The next bus isn't for another hour, and my groceries will be spoiled by then.
“You missed one.” I hear.
Looking up, I see the same gorgeous man from inside the store. He's staring at me with a rogue bag of spinach in one hand and his groceries in a fancy reusable bag in the other.
Embarrassingly, I stand up and brush the loose gravel off of my knees before taking the spinach and throwing it into my now overstuffed bag.
Yeah, this bag isn't making it home. Heck, I don't even know if I'll make it home.
I know they say if you're skinny, you're in shape; they lied.
I get winded going up the stairs.
There's no way I'm making it home without breaking a sweat, probably panting, and losing all of my groceries.
This man leans down and snatches my bag up before I get the chance. He starts walking away with it before I can even form a thought as to why he took my things.
I follow behind this man, catching up as he walks toward the nicest car in the dang lot.
“You know, this works out great for me. Now I can sneak this extra gallon of apple cider into your car.” He teases.
He smiles charmingly, looking over his shoulder at me as we walk before focusing on where he's walking.
Dang, he's cute, and all I’m doing is staring.
Here we go again, say something!
Words! Say words, Maeve.
“Lucky for me, I don't have a car, and I don't think this bag can handle anything else. It's only holding on now by pure luck.” I finally blurt out.
This man stops, turning to stare at me and letting out an almost inaudible sigh. “You walked here? Fine, we'll walk back together. How far are you from home?” He asks.
I don't know much about stranger danger, but something tells me that letting the super cute guy in the rich man's car walk me home is a mistake.
This is how you end up smiling on a milk carton.
I don't even have any good pictures that my mom could use. I don't even know if she'd notice I was gone!
I'd probably already be made into a lampshade with my head in an empty ice cream bucket before she even realized I was missing.
"Oh, no, thank you, but I appreciate the offer!" I say sweetly.
I do, really. Nobody has ever offered to walk me home before. Nobody has ever offered to just give me a gallon of the best apple cider in the state before, but I have to be responsible.
The man slightly sighs, probably realizing how that came off. Most men are blind to how women are afraid of them, but he seems remorseful for doing anything to scare me.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Can I make a counteroffer?" He asks.
I raise an eyebrow at this man. Are we negotiating? It's not exactly like I can say no. He still has my grocery bag hugged to his chest and for some reason, I'm still blindly following him.
"You can try." I say with a shrug.
“Walk with me back to my car, I promise not to kidnap you. You can stay several car lengths away, but I have some reusable bags in my car so your stuff won't fall out." He offers.
Actually, that sounds nice.
He seems nice.
Maybe I'm just being a butthead by being so cautious?
Crap, no.
I've always heard the nice ones are the ones to worry about.
I give a short nod, silently agreeing to this man's offer as I follow him to his car at the back of the crowded parking lot.
When we reach his fancy car, likely costing more than my tuition, he pulls out two very nice canvas bags for me.
He doesn't even wait before he starts loading my things into these bags without a word. All while I watch the muscles in his forearms flex with every movement and study the features of his face while he's not looking.
He should be made into a statue in a museum somewhere.
"Where do you work? So I can give these back." I ask him as he hands me the two clearly expensive canvas bags, hanging them over my shoulders for me.
They feel heavier. Maybe it's because of the thick straps on my shoulders taking the weight rather than my arms wrapped around paper bags, but I'm not about to complain about him letting me borrow these.
"Nonsense. I have far too many of them anyway. Every time I come to the store, I end up buying more because I don't want to leave my place in line to grab mine out of the car. It's a never-ending cycle of reusable bags until my trunk is so full that I bring them into the house and start over. Keep them, I insist." He says sweetly. I can't say no to that, I kind of don't want to anyway.
I turn to walk away from this man, but it feels wrong. It not only feels rude, but it almost feels unnatural to walk away.
“Maeve.” I finally say.
This man raises an eyebrow at me but says nothing; he just takes another assessing glance at me.
“My name is Maeve.” I clarify after a short pause of just watching him stare at me, lost.
He gives a short nod, and a small smile breaks across his handsome face. “Leon.” He replies charmingly.
I give him the same short nod and a quick smile. “Until we meet again, Leon.” I say as I walk away from this man and toward the sidewalk.
“I'll be waiting, Maeve.” He shouts back.