Page 56 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
“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 myPrice is Rightvictory 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, butrunningin 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 piñata 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.
