Page 47 of Icing on the Cake

“Are you sure?” Elliot uncrosses his arms but still doesn’t reach for the box.

“Yeah, I’m?—“

“Are you two children?” A female voice cuts in. I turn to see the woman from the library strolling up with a mischievous grin plastered on her face. “Give me that.” She snatches the box from my hand.

“Sarah,” Elliot says, and I can hear the mix of relief and annoyance in his voice as she holds the box above her head and closes her eyes.

“Eenie-meenie-minie-moe.” She sways her arm back and forth between us. “Catch a tiger by the toe.”

I glance at Elliot. He bites his lip and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. I can’t tell if he wants to win this stupid game or if he’s as conflicted as I am.

“If he hollers, let him go. Eenie-meenie-minie…moe!” Sarah finishes with a flourish, pointing directly at Elliot. She opens her eyes and laughs. “Looks like you get lucky.”

She tosses the box to Elliot, who catches it awkwardly and stuffs it into his shoppingbasket. “Gee, thanks.”

“I’m just here for the show,” Sarah says, winking at me. “See you around.”

She saunters off, leaving Elliot and me in a wake of silence. I scratch the back of my neck. “Good luck with…your friend.”

I head down the aisle, my mind a swirl of thoughts about Elliot, about Drew, about how complicated everything has become lately. I’m not sure if I’m happy for Elliot or just bummed that now I’ll have to deal with Drew crying about not getting laid.

Probably both.

I’m nearly finishedshopping when nature calls. I make a beeline for the restrooms, parking my cart outside the door. The fluorescent lights inside are harsh, and the white tile walls do nothing to muffle the sound of running water and hand dryers. I take care of business, finally ridding myself of the last of the alcohol from the weekend’s binge. It’s a relief, is what it is.

As I wash my hands, I check out my reflection in the mirror. The flushed cheeks and bloodshot eyes have mostly faded; I’m starting to look human again. One of the perks of being a beefy guy is that I can process this stuff quicker than most. My hangover is nearly gone, and with it, some of the anxiety that’s been gnawing at me all morning.

I step back into the hallway and retrieve my cart. My eyes wander to the list on my phone, and I mentally prepare myself for Drew’s wrath when he finds out I wimped out on?—

Wait.

I do a double-take at the contents of my cart. Nestled on top of a bag of candy corn is the box of condoms, still unopened and undamaged. A slow realization dawns on me, and I glance around the store.Did Elliot…?

I picture him waiting outside the restroom, looking both waysbefore dumping and running. He must have done it while I was finishing up.

A warm feeling spreads through my chest, mixing with the residual flush from my hangover.

I pick up the box and turn it over in my hands, imagining Elliot’s face when Sarah played her little game. When he caught the box, and when he walked away. He’s hard to read, but today…today, I think I’m starting to figure him out.

Placing the condoms back in the cart, I head toward the checkout, where the line at the register snakes back into the frozen section. I take my place at the end and pull out my phone, scrolling through texts from Drew, Oliver, and even one from Mom checking in on me.

Once it’s my turn, I load my items onto the conveyor belt. The cashier, a tired-looking woman in her thirties, scans each item without comment. I almost want her to say something about the condoms so I can explain why they’re not for me, but she remains silent.

I pay and wheel my cart full of bags out into the lot. Despite the frigid temperature, the sun beats down mercilessly, beading my forehead with sweat. This is gonna suck.

Gripping the cart handle, I take a deep breath and step off the sidewalk. The wheels rattle and squeak as I push forward, each bag shifting and jostling with every bump in the pavement.

I’m halfway across the first row when a car comes screeching around the corner. I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat as the vehicle barrels toward me. Time slows down, and I can see every detail of the approaching car—the sun glinting off the hood, the blur of the driver’s face behind the windshield, the hula girl jiggling on the dashboard.

At the last possible second, the car swerves, missing me by mere inches. The rush of air from its passing ruffles my hair and sends a chill down my spine.Holy snickers, that was close.

I’m still trying to catch my breath when I notice the passenger in the car. Sitting there, smirking at me through the window, isthe little twerp from earlier. The one who kicked me in the shin over the shopping cart.

As I watch, he slowly raises his hand, extends his middle finger, and flips me off. The door partially obscures the gesture, but there’s no mistaking it. The kid has it out for me.

I knew I should’ve stayed in bed.

ICE QUEEN BLOG POST #3

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