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“Hey, buddy,” I greet him when I’m by his side. “Looks like you got all the Pretzel M&M’s. You mind sparing a pack or two for us? We came all the way here just for ‘em.”
He turns his head. His eyes elevator me with an icy, distinctly unfriendly glare. “I’m not your buddy. And no. They’re mine.”
Then he turns his head forward again and takes a step forward as his line moves up, brushing me off like I was nothing more than a mosquito he’s shoeing away.
Unlucky for him, I’m not ready to accept defeat that easily, either.
Time to bring out the big guns. Tug on his heartstrings. I know Olivia’s not going to like the strategy I have in mind, but it’s for the greater good. For her greater good.
“Please, sir. My girlfriend,” I tilt my head back in Olivia’s direction, “she’s pregnant.” I have to fight a smirk as I hear Olivia suck in a dismayed gasp behind me. “She’s not showing yet, but the weird cravings are already hitting her hard. And she needs some Pretzel M&M’s. You know how it is.”
The same unfriendly eyes drill into me. This time, his expression is accompanied by a haughty scowl.
“Girlfriend?” he utters the world disdainfully. “Back in my day, people got married first. Maybe if you were able to plan your life better, you wouldn’t have a knocked-up girlfriend, and you’d have the food you needed without having to beg people standing in line.”
Okay, fuck this guy.
Initially, my next plan was to offer him money to give me a pack of those M&M’s if the pregnant girlfriend strategy didn’t work. Now that I know what a shit-head this guy is, though, I have zero scruples playing dirty.
“Holy shit!” I jump half a step back, bulging my eyes like I’ve just seen something shocking, pointing across the store.
The ploy works. The Pretzel M&M hoarder instinctively whips his head in the direction of my jutted-out finger. While he’s looking away, I quickly and deftly snatch a handful of M&M packets out of his bag, immediately passing them behind me to Olivia.
To her credit, she picks up what I’m laying down immediately, grabbing them from me and holding them behind her back, angling her body behind mine for extra secrecy. All this is accomplished in half a second, before the guy turns his head back to me, his eyebrows drawn low and his annoyed scowl carved even deeper.
“Huh,” I say, tilting my head. “Thought I saw something over there. Guess not.”
With that, I quickly turn away, careful to keep my body between Olivia and the guy’s line of sight so he doesn’t have a chance to see the bounty she’s holding, rightfully pilfered from him.
We hurry to the self-checkout section.
“Four bags!” Olivia whispers in excitement, her eyes wide as she glances at me. She’s looking at me like she’s impressed. I have to admit, I like it. I like it a lot.
With our surplus of Pretzel M&M’s, I grab a bag for myself and open it once I’m seated in my car. I pop one in my mouth, and I don’t know why, but it’s just about the best thing I’ve ever tasted when I bite down on it.
“Damn, these are good,” I say.
“Mhm,” she mumbles appreciatively. “Nothing like satisfying a craving.”
I bet. There’s one craving I have when it comes to Olivia Lockley that I bet would feel otherworldly to satisfy.
But you know what? As true as that is, right now, I don’t even dwell on it.
Just sitting next to her in my car, singing Taylor Swift songs while I shove junk food in my mouth as we drive back to the tutoring center—this feels pretty damn otherworldly, too.
12
OLIVIA
My Dad isn’t good at taking no for an answer.
When I told him last week that I was going to have to pass on his offer to come down to Charleston and act in Last Bus Out, I was surprised how easily he accepted my decision.
I should have realized he’d accepted it too easily.
It turns out, he hasn’t really accepted it at all. Instead, it’s more like he made a temporary retreat.
Over the last couple days, he’s launched a counter-assault on my better judgment, texting me and calling me constantly, trying to convince me that this is just too good of an opportunity to turn down.
