14. Splash Down
FOURTEEN
SPLASH DOWN
Rose
“The price is wrong , Bob!”
I point to Vance and celebrate my “win” with an awesome victory dance. He overbid on the showcase showdown, and I got within three hundred dollars. I wiggle my body as I jump from foot to foot, slapping the air in front of me like I’m riding someone doggy style.
I never said I was a gracious winner.
“Bob Barker isn’t even the host anymore.” Vance rolls his eyes. Something he’s probably doing more now than he ever did before he met me.
I tend to bring out the best in people.
“And I can’t believe you just quoted Happy Gilmore .” Vance shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure you weren’t even alive when that movie came out.”
If he pouted any harder, he’d look like a blowfish.
Turns out, between this and the Fortnite battle last night, Vance isn’t a gracious loser.
I find that hilarious.
I stop air slapping and shrug, my cheeks hurting from smiling so hard. “Adam Sandler movies are timeless, old man.”
“I’m pretty sure there are a lot of movie critics that would argue that statement.” Pout forgotten, he shakes his head and grins.
I shimmy closer to him and bend forward until I’m nose to nose with him. “Stop looking at me, swan .” My imitation of Adam Sandler in Billy Maddison is eerily accurate if I do say so myself.
“All right, all right, enough.” He holds out his hands, laughing when I change up my victory dance to the running man. “I guess it’s safe to say you’re feeling better?”
I take a break from dancing, a little out of breath. “I told you I did.” Flopping down next to him on the couch, I rub my tummy. “I just ate too much last night is all.”
“That’s good, then.” Putting his arm around me, he pulls me in. I let myself be embraced, enjoying the cuddle time.
Until I realize that I’m enjoying the cuddle time.
I stiffen, about to get up, grab my clothes out of the dryer, and beat feet when his arm tightens around me.
“You’re leaving?” There’s a resigned note in his voice that makes me pause.
I think about what he said at Thanksgiving, about how I’m always running out on him. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but I’m not sure if my emotionally stunted heart can handle cuddle time.
“I won’t leave.” I struggle to sit up. “But I do have a suggestion.”
He narrows his eyes like he doesn’t quite trust me. “Okay.”
Nervousness sets in, and I bite my lip. “Wanna go people watch?”
“People watch?” Vance frowns.
“Yeah, it’s Black Friday.” I push back, putting more space between us. “I’ve heard that’s when all the crazies come out.” I hug a pillow to my chest. “I just thought it might be fun to do… together.”
When he doesn’t say anything, my heart rate quickens.
“Never mind. It’s cool.” I jump up from the couch. This is why Thanksgiving was a bad idea. Why hanging out without sex is all kinds of confusing. It gives me ideas. Dangerous ideas. “You can just booty call me la?—”
“No.” Vance lifts off the couch, grabbling my hand before I can jet. “Let’s do it.”
I’m losing my mind.
Honest. It’s the only explanation for one, not going home after my Price is Right victory and two, jumping Vance’s bones the minute I saw him put on that old man cardigan.
Like, seriously. How is an oatmeal colored, rolled collar cardigan with large wooden buttons so fucking sexy? It’s something I imagine wrinkly old men wearing when they play chess in the park.
And yet, I told him to keep it on while I banged him on the kitchen counter before we left.
Hashtag sorry not sorry.
“I thought we just came here to people watch?”
I ignore Vance’s bemused tone and throw the laser tag kit in my cart.
I came Black Friday shopping with good intentions.
Our trip was to show Vance that I don’t always run, while also spending time with him in a public place where he can’t get all cuddly with me.
We were going to get a latte, wander around the anarchy of sales, and maybe I’d even surprise a few people by paying for their carts like I normally do when I venture out to big box stores. Easy. Fun.
Then one by one, all my carefully thought-out plans were ruined as the dark magic of Black Friday washed over me.
There are people running, not walking, but running in all directions.
Mother-daughter groups tag-teaming in a divide-and-conquer approach, men pushing two carts, one in each hand, while holding a list between their teeth as they jog around the store.
There are no kids. Not even in the toy aisle.
Just adults looking exhausted and freakishly intent.
It’s an adult-only Thunderdome of retail madness.
Love. It.
Latte forgotten, I now have a cart stuffed with laser tag, a high-tech back massager, an at-home beer brewing kit, and an industrial-sized KitchenAid mixer.
A llama pinata pillow catches my eye. “Ooo!” I grab it fast, even though there are five others, and it isn’t even on sale. Without stopping, I toss it in my cart, already looking to see what’s next.
“Do you like llamas?” Vance strolls beside me, still looking sexy as hell in his cardigan and relaxed as always. I don’t see how he can’t feel the energy in the air. The panic. The rush. He’s totally failing at Black Friday.
Not looking at him, I push my cart into the electronics section. “It’s from Fortnite.” This area is much more crowded than the rest of the store. My pulse quickens.
“Why are llamas in Fortnite?”
“They’re loot boxes,” I answer absentmindedly, checking out the gaming consoles. “Probably why you haven’t seen one yet.”
Vance snorts.
“They’re how you earn gear and money in—” I freeze. Two pairs of Sennheiser GSP 600 gaming headsets are sitting on a near empty shelf. Half off.
They are the same ones I use. And honestly, when I bought mine, I didn’t even look at the price. (Hashtag billionaire.) But something about seeing half-off spelled out in big, red block letters kicks my adrenaline up another notch.
Abandoning my cart, I rush over to the shelf and grab one of the headsets. It’s even the updated model with its signature noise-cancelling microphone and sonically accurate high-fidelity audio, compatible with all gaming consoles.
“Sweet.” I reach for the other set, only to be hip checked by something very large and in charge. I stumble to the side, catching myself before hitting the floor on a stacked display of big screen TVs in boxes. “What the f?—”
“ Shit .” Vance jogs over, helping me up. “You okay?”
My knee throbs where it hit the corner of one of the TV boxes.
“What the hell just happened?” I rub the spot where I’m sure it’s already bruised. This is going to put a real damper on how my legs look in fishnets for pole dance classes.
Vance glares over my shoulder where the headsets are. I follow his gaze to where a woman is tossing my headset into her cart.
Oh hell no.
“Excuse me.” I shake off Vance’s hands. “That’s mine.”
The woman, an inch taller and twice as large, gives me a once-over, looking like what she sees does not impress her. “Doesn’t look like it.” With an expression of superiority that would make the Queen of England feel like a peasant, she starts to push her cart away.
Oh fuck no.
I sidestep her, grabbing the side of her cart. “You stole that headset out of my hands. I want it back.” I hold my free hand palm up.
She swats it away, leaning into my space. “Last I checked, your hand wasn’t on it, missy.”
My anger boils, narrowing onto this woman like a Death Star laser beam. I can’t believe she just called me missy. That as a woman she would use such sexist language to patronize another woman.
In the back of my mind, I know the headset isn’t worth an altercation. I can just order it later no problem.
But the front of my mind is busy feeling insulted on all kinds of levels. Even my fashion level, seeing as she’s wearing white athletic ankle socks with royal blue Crocs.
Who does that?
“The only reason my hand wasn’t on it was because you hip-checked me.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vance frowning, leaning slightly forward then leaning back, as if unsure of what to do. I tighten my grip on the woman’s cart.
She shrugs, her shoulders almost touching her ears due to lack of a neck. “Little girl, if you can’t hack Black Friday, then stay home.”
I might look like a high school student in Vance’s T-shirt, which I knotted at the waist with my jeans and flat sandals, but I straighten to my full five-foot-six height and try to look impressive. “Black Friday refers to sale prices, not WWF style of shopping, ma’am .”
The woman jerks her cart out of my grasp. “Just fuck off, bimbo.”
“Hey now, there’s no need for that.” Vance finally decides to step up, trying to come to my rescue.
Bless him.
But I’m Rose fucking West. I don’t need rescuing.
Tit for tat, I hip-check the woman’s cart into her stomach, making her stumble back into a phone case display. While she steadies herself, I take the headset out of her cart.
“Why you…” Her eyes narrow onto the headset, now in my hands.
“Your hand wasn’t on it.” I cringe internally at my snide remark. Black Friday is not a good look on me.
I register movement at both ends of our aisle and realize a crowd has gathered. Apparently, two women about to brawl is enough to stop even the most formidable bargain shoppers in their tracks.
Vance’s eyes are ping-ponging between Croc Woman and me. It’s amusing enough to break the Black Friday spell I’m under. Sighing, I resign myself to buying the damn headphones online and reach out to toss the headset back in her cart. But before I can, Croc Woman surges forward, fist at the ready.
Bam .
“Ooo, damn!” Someone in the crowd cries out.
Pain surges through my chest as I stagger back, dropping the headset. Slightly hunched over, I grab my right boob with both hands. I tilt my head up, my brain not catching up to what just happened. “Did you just… tit punch me?”
Croc Woman looks completely non-repentant. Vance, whose mouth is hanging open, snaps to, stepping between us, arms out.