Page 30 of Fighting Spirit

Ruth

Oh, my bad. How old is that ratty, stinky MALLARD with half the feathers missing and the stitching coming loose around the shorts???

ROWAN

You can tell that the stitching is loose?

Ruth

I’m a professional. I notice these things. The question is, how do you about the stitching? Spending a lot of time up close and personal with the duck’s crotch are we?

ROWAN

you’re gross.

Ruth

*middle finger emoji*

Chapter Twelve

ROWAN

Trevor’s laugh has my head snapping up as I fight to wipe the grin off my face.

“She’s making fun of you, isn’t she?” He smirks as he pushes the cart ahead of me, which has the effect of him missing the scowl I throw his way.

Every Saturday for the two years we’ve been roommates, Trevor drags me to the big grocery store on the edge of town and makes me push the cart around while he throws in a fuck ton of stuff I’ve never heard of. Moving in with a culinary arts major seemed like a great idea at first. I pretty much have a live-in chef, but it’s times like this that I yearn for the frat house.

“I can feel you giving me your scary coach face!” he singsongs from the end of the aisle.

“I don’t have a coach face!” I storm after him, pushing the cart with one hand and scrolling back through my texts with Ruth with the other. I’m about to reply to her middle finger emoji when the cart jolts as it hits the edge of one of the displays. Shit. Apparently not texting and driving also applies to grocery carts…

I pocket the device and put both hands firmly on the handle. As I look up, I catch Trevor’s lanky frame turning left at the end of the aisle.

Motherfucker…

“Trev! We had a deal, man!” I start jogging after him but it’s hard to catch up when I’m trying to maneuver this thing. I know he can hear me, that bastard, but he waltzes into the cheese section regardless.

“Dude,” I pant, breathing hard. Hell, I have to do some more conditioning if this is wearing me out. “We said we’d do cheese last.”

“But it’s right here. It doesn’t make sense to do it last!”

“You always spend thirty fuckin’ minutes here. At least if we do it after everything else, we can just pay and get the fuck home before I try to seal myself in one of the freezers.”

“Ro, if we do baked goods now, then we’ll have to double back, and it’ll cut into our browsing time.” We’re kind of on the clock here. I have a meeting with Fitz in an hour.

“You don’t need browsing time. You get the same three cheeses every trip.”

“What if I wanted to mix it up?”

“Do you?”

“The question is, do you?” His question earns him a glare. “You’re telling me it wouldn’t bother you if I changed what I’m using in my cheese sauce?”

I try to stare him down, but he’s a stubborn bastard when he wants to be.

I sigh, knowing when to admit defeat. “Why mess with a good thing?”

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