Page 23 of Married As Puck
The old lady beams. “Enjoy it, dear. Nothing sweeter than young love.” With that, she pushes her cart down the aisle, humming to herself.
I bask in the moment, deliberately stroking his arm, enjoying the warmth of his angry caveman madness he has going on.
“Never. Do. That. Again.”
I burst out laughing, bowing with exaggerated drama. “Lighten up. She was sweet.”
“I’m serious. I do not appreciate things like that and unless you’d really like to see the other side of me, then I suggest you start minding your ways.”
“The other side of you? How many sides are you? A fucking hexagon. Come on, lover.” I laugh and walk away.
I push the cart forward, tossing in a box of cereal. Cameron is looking through labels, focused on the protein section like he’s selecting diamonds instead of chicken breasts.
At first, I think I’m imagining it. The blatant stares coming from the people around me. A woman in the fruit aisle glances our way, then nudges her friend to look over. A man by the baked goods section, holds his phone too high to be “checking messages.”
“Uh, lover?” I murmur.
He doesn’t look up from the chicken label he’s reading. “Don’t call me that.”
“You need to see this.” I nod toward the young couple whispering by the apples.
“See what?” He drops two packs of chicken into the cart, wipes his hands on his jeans.
I mutter, “People. Looking at us.”
He exhales, annoyed. “Brie, don’t start. They’re probably just bored. Just focus on the things we came to buy, so we can leave. I have a lot of things to do tonight.”
I stop the cart, knowing that he means he wants to just sit at home and do nothing. I’m in no rush. “Look left.”
He doesn’t. He rubs his jaw instead, irritated by me. “Just keep moving. We need eggs.”
I grab his arm. “Cameron. Look.”
Finally, he follows my gaze. Three aisles down, a teenager is holding his phone way too steady, pretending to study the yogurt fridge. Cameron’s brow tightens. His hand goes straight to his pocket where his phone is buzzing. He ignores it.
I grab his arm, not liking the attention.
“You see it now, don’t you?” I whisper.
“Yeah.” His tone drops flat. “What did you do, I told—"
I glance at him. “So wait, you’re like a celebrity?”
His head whips around. “Didn’t you say you looked me up?”
I nod, staring back at people while I cling onto him. “You really are full of yourself. Can we please leave now?”
He looks down at me squirming. “You don’t like the spotlight?”
I shake my head.
“Not so enthusiastic after all, are ya?”
I think that’s the first joke he’s ever made, but the fact that strangers are filming us.
He runs a hand through his hair and groans. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before this turns into a circus.”
At the checkout line, more people notice him.
