Page 70 of Capri

But I won’t. Independent me and all that.

“What’re you lookin’ for?” he asks, searching for something in my hands.

I refer to my phone, confirming for the fiftieth time I’m looking for the right thing. I am. “A Shop-Vac. It’s some type of vacuum,” I tell him.

Jones smirks. “I know.” Then, he takes off, likely in search of his own tools and machinery.

“Right,” I say, turning to continue my search. “I can’t find it anywhere.” I scan the aisles once more, getting more annoyed by the minute.

I need a roadmap for this place. Some type of Disney location guide.

I wish I could capture this moment because I hardly make it down the next aisle before Jones rounds it, lugging a huge box over his shoulder.

“Are you kidding me? You found it?” I say in disbelief.

“Stick with me, kid,” he jokes. This funny side makes me miss him so fucking much. I always think back to the night before I left Capri and his bed and the hours we spent laughing over the stupidest things.

At the time, nothing about them was stupid.

It was perfect.

“Maybe I should,” I say, and Jones raises his brows, waiting for me to explain myself. “We’re friends, remember? I should stick with my friend…right, Captain?”

“I won’t tell you how happy it makes me to hear you call me that.”

I chuckle and motion for Jones to follow me to the checkout counter.

“So, what’s this for anyway?” Jones asks, sitting it on the conveyor belt.

I pay the cashier and wait for my receipt while Jones stands patiently beside me like he has nowhere else to be. “Wait, did you need to get something?” I ask, realizing he must have been here for a reason.

He waves me off. “All good. Tell me why you’re here.”

“Wish I knew. Well, I do know, but I’m not sure if this will actually fix the problem.” Jones carries the box for me to my car. “Something’s wrong with my dryer, so I’m hoping this solves it.”

“Is it not working?” he asks.

“It works, but it’s not drying anything. I had to run it five times yesterday just to dry one load.”

“Sounds like the vent needs to be cleaned out,” Jones says matter-of-factly.

“That’s exactly what I read.” I smile. “Hence, the Shop-Vac.” I nod at the vacuum Jones loads into my car and inwardly thank him for the confirmation I needed.

“Sounds like you’re on the right track then.” He smiles and pats the top of my car.

“Yeah, I hope so. Thanks for the help.” Before he has a chance to respond, I turn and situate myself in the driver’s seat.

I barely have the car on before the passenger door opens, Jones’ massive frame filling the space beside me. I still, debating how to react.

My head swings in his direction, and my eyes look at him with suspicion. I start to speak, but I’m cut off by Jones.

“Trying to get rid of me already?” he asks.

“What are you doing?” I stop suddenly, inwardly trying to convince myself I’m not secretly loving him in my car.

“Helping you,” he says. “Can’t have you stuck doing it on your own. Let me help.”

I don’t know why I feel taken aback. Jones does exactly as he wants.

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