14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Paul
I can’t remember the last time I went grocery shopping with another person.
Probably before I got divorced. Since Amelia and I keep a pretty regular schedule, and it feels weird when I’m not with my kid, I usually do things like grocery shopping, appointments, or the gym when Amelia has Maddox, so I can take my time.
Stretch out the hours with things to do so I don’t feel so lonely and bored.
But going to the grocery store with Dre is a whole other experience, and I can’t say I hate it.
Though, if he thinks he’s getting away with paying for all of this, he’s got another thing coming.
I know what he’s doing, and while I appreciate him helping me out, I can’t not pull my own weight.
I have a little money in my savings, not much, but enough that I should be able to get by until the money from the insurance company comes in.
Not to mention, in just a few weeks, football camp will be starting up, and before I know it, it’ll be time for the first day of school.
I watch as he continuously picks up watermelon after watermelon, inspecting each one like it’s his damn job, and I can’t help but let out a chuckle when he puts back the third one he’s picked up.
“What’s the matter, Goldilocks? Can’t find one that’s just right?”
Dre glares at me. “Haha. Very funny.” He flips me off and I reach around him to grab a melon, flipping it up and checking the bottom. I knock it, listening to the deep thunk, and chuck the thing into our cart.
“There, problem solved,” I say as I head over towards the registers.
“How do you—”
“Just trust me,” I say, finding a line that’s short enough I know we’ll be next, which is what I need for my plan to work. I clear my throat.
“Oh shit, we forgot the Uncrustables,” I say. “The Nutella ones. Maddox loves those.”
Dre takes my bait: hook, line, and sinker.
“I’ll run and grab them,” he says, already turning around and sprinting away.
That’s when I shift out of the line and head over to the self-checkout, where I scan everything as quickly as I can like it’s a damn contest and the prize is a thousand dollar check.
Thankfully, the freezers are on the other side of the store, so it will take him a minute to get there and back, which is what I’m counting on.
I’m just swiping my card when I hear him, huffing and puffing, and I fight to keep my smile to myself.
“What are you doing?” he asks, cheeks red as he clutches two boxes of Nutella-filled Uncrustables under his arms. His glare should put me off, but it only makes me want to laugh, because as smart as he is, sometimes he’s so fucking gullible.
And I kind of love that about him.
“Buying groceries,” I say with a shrug as the receipt prints.
“I thought I was buying groceries,” he says, clearly agitated that I managed to get one over on him.
Paul one; Dre zero.
I nod to the boxes of sandwiches in his arms. “You are.”
I move to the side, motioning for him to scan them.
“Really, Paul?” he bites, but I don’t miss the faint grin turning up at the corner of his mouth.
He scans the boxes quickly as I pack up everything I paid for into the cart.
“Don’t worry about what I do with my money, Andre,” I tease him, throwing his words back at him.
“Fuck you,” he says as he swipes his card, then tosses the boxes into the cart before taking the receipt.
I can’t help but laugh as I push the cart out, feeling victorious.
When we get back to his place, it’s nearing one-thirty in the afternoon. We’re both starving, because despite how delicious those muffins were, they were not enough to keep us full.
“You hungry?” I ask as Dre sets a plethora of bags on the counter.
“Yeah, what do you want?” he asks.
He opens cabinets, the fridge doors, the freezer.
I don’t think twice as I say, “Sit down.”
Dre rolls his eyes, and I can’t help the way my stomach ties into a knot from the sight. My stupid cock reminds me that it’s imperative I take care of my needs, but I can’t be bothered with that right now. I’ll deal with it later.
After all, we’ve got all night since Dre’s parents offered to keep the kids overnight because they were having so much fun. Which makes me feel a little guilty.
My parents don’t visit often, and while Amelia’s parents are great, it’s just not the same.
I wish Maddox could have sleepovers with his grandparents.
I wish he could have a sibling to play with.
I wish I could give him more, but with everything going on, I can’t, and honestly I don’t know if things will ever change in that regard.
Not unless my parents move back here or I miraculously have another kid—which probably won’t happen, and I’ve accepted that.
“Paul…” Dre protests, but I shake my head, dispelling the thoughts of guilt and remorse. I don’t want to think about how I’ve failed Maddox; not when it’s just me and Dre. I want to simply enjoy this time with my best friend. I want to do something for him for a change.
“Sit down,” I say again, this time firmer than before. Something shifts in Andre’s eyes; it almost looks like they darken a bit, though that could be from the shift in weather outside. It’s hot as hell, humid, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up with a thunderstorm soon enough.
Andre sighs in defeat, but takes a seat at the island as I pull out the ingredients I need to make quite possibly one of my best meals—high protein buffalo chicken pasta.
“First you swindle me out of paying for all this, and now you’re bossing me around? In my house?” he says, his lips turned up in a smirk.
“Damn right,” I say as I pull out the package of fresh chicken. I put away the last few things, then grab my equipment. “And don’t even think of trying to help.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Andre says, and I can’t help but chuckle at the way he pouts, like I’ve just told him Santa Claus isn’t real.
“No, you are ridiculous,” I say as I fill the stockpot with water and set it to boil on the stove.
I open the box of chickpea pasta I grabbed from the store and measure out two cups—okay maybe I don’t measure it with a cup but I’m pretty good at eyeballing measurements.
Besides, what’s the problem with a little extra pasta as long as it’s healthy?
“Me?” he asks, as if I’ve personally offended him. I have to hide my grin, because I swear, some things never change.
Andre is one of those people that can’t help themselves when it comes to being in charge of things.
It’s just who he is, and he’s been that way for as long as I have known him.
Accepting help is hard for him, and he’s not exactly going to just let me do shit for him.
I can’t give him the option. I have to be steadfast and direct, because Dre won’t listen any other way.
Which is why I give him a stern look, when I say, “Yes, you.”
I open the package of chicken and set to chopping it. “I’m a grown man, Andre, I don’t need you to do everything for me. I can do things myself, and I should be doing things myself.”
And for you, because you deserve everything you give to other people.
Including me.
Andre lets out a sigh. “This again? I told you, Paul, I don’t mind. Really, I—”
I look up at him between chopping and seasoning my chicken.
“And neither do I,” I say firmly. “Which is why you’re going to sit there and let me make you lunch, and you’re not going to say another word.”
Andre sighs again, and I can feel his gaze on me as I slide the chicken into the stockpot, the sizzle a loud hiss between us.
“Oh, stop fucking pouting,” I say as I give the chicken a toss.
I glance back to see Andre, hands across his chest, watching me intently. As I drain the pasta, my back to him, he speaks softly.
“At least tell me what you’re making.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not a chance.”
I have to stifle my laugh because he mumbles something under his breath, though I wish I knew what.
It doesn’t take long for me to finish cooking, since this recipe is relatively quick, which is why it’s one of my weekly staples. I usually make a big batch, then portion it out ahead of time and take it in for lunch during the school year.
“Bone app the teeth, or whatever you say.” I chuckle as I slide him a fresh bowl of steaming pasta.
Dre looks up at me as he grabs his fork and stabs a piece of chicken. Though I know he’s trying to look menacing, it only comes off petulant.
My stupid cock twitches, and I grunt out a sound of annoyance, adjusting myself as I turn around to grab my own bowl of pasta. If Dre notices, he doesn’t say anything, and for that I’m grateful.
A moment later, I take my seat across from him and we both dig in.
The melty shredded cheese, mixed with the creamy cottage cheese and spices instantly makes me groan.
“Fuck…” I mutter. “That hits the spot.”
Andre takes a bite, and almost immediately moans his praise.
“This is really good, Paul.”
“I know,” I say with a grin.
Dre shakes his head with a low laugh as he stabs another piece of chicken, and just like that, the tension, that agitation that existed between us momentarily is gone.
Though I move to clean up, Andre doesn’t let me; insisting it was the least he could do because I bamboozled him at the store and bullied him into letting me make lunch.
I relent, if only because my stupid cock is driving me crazy, and if I do not take care of this issue soon, I might literally go blind. Or insane.
So I excuse myself while Andre cleans up and make my way upstairs to the shower to take care of just that. Even though we’ve been sharing his bed, it feels weird to just use his bathroom.
I quickly undress, my cock bouncing freely once I’m fully naked. I blink as I grab it in my hand, realizing just how hard I actually am.
Shit.
I have no idea what the cause of this is, but I’m not about to ignore it because I need this.