Page 83 of Pride and Protest
Park’s shoulders slumped. “Liza, don’t tell me you’re like him.”
Liza lifted her haughty chin. “Self-checkout is a scam.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Dorsey said.
“You two are ridiculous. There is no line, and there is an eighty-year-old cashier in aisle four! This is a no-brainer,” Park said.
“It will always take longer,” Liza said. Her tone was imperious, and her little button nose tilted even higher in the air. “There is always something that doesn’t scan or that doesn’t work. It is a time suck. Not to mention they fire tons of employees to build those things.”
“And you have to bag your own groceries!” Dorsey said.
“So the part you hate is bagging your own groceries?” Liza teased.
“Among other things.”
“How about this? I’ll take half the groceries, and you take care of the others. The first person bagged and at the exit wins,” Park said.
Liza looked positively gleeful. “What do we win?”
“Let’s focus on if you lose. If you lose, you two will have to do this same thing again tomorrow night but with my favorite food, Korean dumplings.”
“And if we win?” Dorsey asked, liking the sound of “we” on his tongue.
“You get to be right. It sounds like winning is enough for you two,” Park said.
Liza shook her head—unhappy with the terms. “I want you to cook my favorite meal. Butter chicken with garlic naan.”
Dorsey knew that the little fact of Liza’s favorite food would rattle around in his head forever—the way her ice cream memory had. He thought of this little place in London Liza would love—best butter chicken he’d ever tasted.
Park, secure in his own victory, only shrugged. “Bet.”
Liza turned and raced toward lane four, holding Dorsey’s hand to pull him along. Dorsey filed this date away.The first time we held hands was...
He let himself be pulled until they got to the checkout. She still hadn’t let his hand go. Even still, he hoped no one in the store recognized them. He never wanted her to go through that intense bullying again. She didn’t deserve it. Her touch was suddenly everything he wanted to feel. God, he had to stop before his erection burst out of his jeans. The aisle was tight enough to hide his arousal, thank God, but one wrong step and Liza would feel just how excited he was to have her so close to him. He reached for a gossip magazine and pretended to examine it. He would need something to cover his embarrassment when they were out of the checkout aisle. Liza’s jeans were positively painted on. And her ass was incredible. Damnit, he was only making it worse!Look up and count the fluorescent rectangles.
The cashier greeted them warmly and Liza stepped back absently, pushing her plump bottom onto Dorsey’s rock-hard length. The gasp she let out set him aflame. But instead of shouting out in disgust, she leaned into him, pressing her shoulders to his chest. Dorsey’s throat was suddenly parched.
He wanted to spread her open right now on the conveyor belt. Let the eggs tumble to the sticky floor as she held on to the periodicals for support and he pounded into her. Before his fantasy became too X-rated, the cashier pulled Dorsey out of hislull by shouting the total for all the items. After Dorsey paid, Liza looked down and handed him a bag of groceries. She smiled.
“Button your coat or we’ll have to explain yet another meme.”
He awkwardly walked around with the throbbing in his midsection. He had worked his entire life to cultivate a polished restraint. He didn’t want to be the adopted child who did not live up to his father’s name. He had worked hard to be thoughtful, slow to react, and dispassionate for fear of what they would say about him if he was anything less. But this woman had him in a constant meme loop on Twitter and Instagram. She had him in the company of people he would have otherwise avoided. She also had his pants tented in the grocery checkout. How had he gotten here? He heard her laugh as she saw Joseph Park trying to wave down an attendant for a finger of ginger without a sticker.
“Lane four is open,” Liza called. “Betty’s a real wiz!”
Joseph Park punched in numbers on one hand and held up his middle finger with the other.
“Any of you have a damned Savers card?”
They reached Dorsey’s loft, loaded down with groceries. Park seemed to remember every embarrassing story he had about Dorsey and relayed them all to Liza on the way over. Liza laughed that full-belly way he was coming to know as her genuine laugh. She threw her head back, giving Dorsey a view of her slender neck. He would bury his face in the crook of that neck by the end of the night, he vowed.
Liza danced to Korean hip-hop as she stirred the onion. Joseph threw finely diced ginger and garlic into the sautépan. She was aware of Dorsey watching her dance. She was aware of Dorsey, period.
“How do I know when it’s done?”
“You’ll smell it,” Joseph said. “Dorsey, how is the rice coming along?”
“You put me in charge of the most boring activity.”
