22. Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Cooper
T he moment we leave the bar, we hop into an Uber. I’m expecting us to go straight home but soon become suspicious when we head in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?” I ask the driver.
The man scoffs, “To the location provided to me.”
I open my mouth to tell the man off for not only taking us somewhere other than where we requested but also for his shitty attitude when Sutton places her hand on my leg.
“We aren’t going home yet, Cooper. I need to pick something up.”
Our driver stops in front of the Yard Barn. Gesturing with his hand for us to get the fuck out. I glare at him through the mirror as Sutton scoots out of the back seat and I follow her. The man throws up a middle finger before speeding out of the parking lot and back onto the street.
“What an asshole. You better leave a bad review.”
“Why? He was just having a bad night.”
“A bad night? A bad night doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole.”
“No, but finding out his boyfriend was cheating on him earlier tonight does.”
“How did you know that?”
She sighs, pulling out her phone and tapping on the Uber app. “He messaged me before picking us up and told me he was sorry he wouldn’t be his usual bubbly self if there was a male passenger and that he was sorry in advance for being a bitter bitch due to being cheated on.”
I grind my teeth. “Fine. I’ll give him a pass just this once.”
She leans up to kiss me on the cheek. “You’re the best. Now help me find some yarn.”
Sutton grabs my hand and hauls me into the yarn superstore behind her.
I’m immediately assaulted by the store’s bright fluorescent lights, followed by wall after wall of yarn.
It’s everywhere. Thick yarn, thin yarn, yellow yarn to rainbow yarn, you name it, this store has it.
I never knew there were so many yarn options. Everywhere I turn, there’s something new and different, not that I can tell the difference.
“What exactly do you need yarn for?”
“To knit the baby a blanket.” She looks at me as if I’m an idiot.
“What do you think about these colors?” She holds up two blues that are practically the same.
“I like blue.”
“So does Viv. I was thinking one yellow and one blue and then a mixture of shades of both.”
“What about pink and the other blue?”
“I want it to fit our friends, not the stereotypical gender colors.” Again, she looks at me like I’m a fumbling dumbass.
I toss up my hands. “Hey, no need to get testy. It was just an honest question, Grandma.”
Sutton’s eyes widen as she slaps her hand over my mouth, looking around frantically. “Shhh. You can’t say that word in here.”
I push her away. “What word? Grand—”
She cuts me off again with a closed-mouth scream.
“You can’t be serious. Why can’t I say Grandm—”
“No, I don’t want to see the needle in your pants, sir,” Sutton says so loud, there’s no chance in hell that the entire store didn’t hear.
“What?” I whisper-yell at her.
She winces. “Sorry.”
Our gazes are locked as an older woman in her seventies hobbles around the corner and into our aisle. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Need some help?”
My mouth gapes like a fish, opening and closing. Did Sutton really just cause this poor woman to think I was trying to expose myself to her?
When neither of us reply, the woman smiles gently at me. “Young man, what kind of project are you working on?”
Glancing at Sutton, I silently beg for help. She just glares at me while I buffer. That’s the only explanation for what my brain is doing.
“Umm,” I begin, trying to formulate an answer just as another older woman steps into the aisle.
“Oh, young people need some assistance?”
I shake my head. “Oh, no thank you. I think we’ve got it covered. Don’t we, Sutton?”
She smiles, nodding her head enthusiastically.
The women both look at each other with doubtful expressions. “Really?” asks the first. “Then what are you making?”
“A baby blanket,” I reply.
Both look disapprovingly at the yarn Sutton’s still holding. “Not with that yarn, you aren’t,” the second woman says with the click of her tongue, taking the yarn from Sutton’s hands and placing it back on the shelves. “Now, let me show you what I used for my great-grandbabies’ blankets, not this new-age organic excuse for yarn.”
The first woman grabs the cart from Sutton as the second locks elbows with me and begins to lead me away.
I glance back at Sutton, begging her for help.
She just hangs her head and mouths, This is why we don’t say the G word here .
Two hours later, Betty and Ethel finally let us go, but not because they’re done with us. No, because the store is closing. In fact, they force us into exchanging numbers so we can contact them for more advice on the blankets.
I’m sad to say I let those grannies force me into buying everything they wanted me to. They were very persistent saleswomen for people who didn’t work in the store. At one point, Sutton snuck off, claiming to need to pee, only to go grab the yarn she had been looking at the entire time and snuck it into the cart under the piles of essentials Betty and Ethel said we had to have. I wave goodbye to my new older friends, as Sutton pulled me into our Uber. As we sped away, Sutton lectures me on how to conduct myself properly in any type of craft or hobby store.