Flower-Shaped Cucumbers and Red Wine
Whatever little common sense I had left is officially gone. Not that there was much of it to begin with, considering how exhausted I’ve been lately.
So earlier, I went down to the shop. Mostly for the excitement of it, honestly, since Mark already took me grocery shopping this week. On the way there, I tried eating a cherry energy bar, but only made it halfway through before stuffing the rest into my pocket.
Since I didn’t actually need anything, I grabbed a bottle of red wine off the shelf.
Not juice. Not soda. Wine.
“Hey, Magic Girl.”
His voice shot straight into the back of my neck, then ran down my spine in a warm shiver that settled low in my stomach.
I turned around slowly, giving my heavy eyelids enough time to recover and lift themselves back off my eyeballs. Even smiling felt like effort.
“The karate instructor who jumps through the air…”
The dimples around his mouth deepened against the smooth skin of his freshly shaved face. The subtle scent of his aftershave drifted softly into my lungs.
“That’s a good choice,” he said, pointing at the bottle. “Apparently it strengthens supernatural abilities.”
“Then we should drink it together,” slipped out before I could stop myself.
Pure horror stabbed through me.
Fuck. Why would I say something that stupid?
Numbly, I pressed a hand to my forehead as if I’d suddenly remembered something.
“I mean…” I mumbled, stumbling over my own tongue. “You should get one too. For dinner.”
That’s it. I’m done. There is no humiliation greater than this. I practically threw myself at a recently divorced father of two after a three-minute conversation.
But he waved it off so casually it was almost like he hadn’t even registered the catastrophic weight of what I’d just said.
“Oh, tonight’s dinner is strictly kid cuisine. Ham-and-cheese triangle sandwiches, flower-shaped cucumber slices, and hot cocoa. Red wine doesn’t really go with a seven-year-old and a five-year-old.”
“I see,” I nodded, relieved. “So nothing remotely adult tonight…”
He shook his head, pretending to be disappointed.
Naturally, I waited while he finished shopping. Honestly, I wanted to put the wine back, but I didn’t dare.
At the lift, he looked at me seriously.
“I’ll take you home, okay?”
A numb heat flooded my face. My smile melted right off it.
“I’d appreciate that,” I whispered hoarsely.
We rode up to the third floor in silence.
When the doors opened, he cleared his throat.
“Still…” He pointed at the bottle dangling from my hand. “I do think that’s a good idea too. Someday, maybe.” He gave an awkward shrug. “Maybe.”
I still haven’t taken off the hoodie I wore downstairs. I’m sitting here with the hood pulled over my head, ashamed of how I behaved.
I flirted with him. There’s no nicer way to put it.
I’m so fucking embarrassing.
At least the wine is good.
By the third glass, I can say that with absolute certainty.
*
The first half of the week barely even existed. The days blurred into the nights until everything melted together. Like an idiot, I decided to “work ahead” a little so I’d have some free time by the weekend. Turns out I only screwed myself over.
Every morning I found a whole new pile of mistakes. Tiny, stupid, pointless mistakes.
So apparently that method doesn’t work either.
Yesterday, I finally gave myself an entire afternoon off without caring about the consequences. I needed to get away for a while.
Mark, Adele, and I went grocery shopping together. I don’t think I’ve ever found them this irritating.
“Sofia made me promise I’d buy pads for her. I just don’t know which kind. I forgot to take a picture of the package.”
I grimaced.
“She could absolutely buy those herself. Why does she need her boyfriend to do it? I would never ask someone to do that for me.”
“That’s because you’ve never been in a real relationship,” Adele snapped.
“Well, I don’t know…” I started, but she didn’t let me finish.
“Exactly. You don’t know,” she shot back.
Her voice sliced through the air around me like a blade.
I would’ve let it go. If she hadn’t kept pushing.
“Two adults don’t need to keep childish secrets from each other. Men know women get periods. They also know women do more in the bathroom than pee. Or do you seriously think that’s something you can hide forever?”
“No. I just think it kills the mood…” I muttered weakly.
“Then that’s probably why you don’t have a relationship,” she said sharply. “Actually,” she went on mercilessly, “that’s why you’ve never had a real one. Reckless hookups don’t count.”
Her nostrils flared. Her mouth thinned until it practically disappeared from her face.
I let out a long, loud breath.
I was this close to blurting out that the divorced dad from the sixth floor would probably fuck me just as recklessly as Mark used to, but I’d already decided I wasn’t telling them about him.
Especially not now.
And Mark doesn’t deserve it either. Instead of shutting Adele down, he disappeared into the feminine hygiene aisle. He tossed two giant packs into the trolley.
Adele picked one up and turned it over in her hands.
“Are these for an elephant or for your tiny little girlfriend?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing out loud.
Not because of Sofia. Because of Mark.
He’d finally gotten hit with the thing Adele had clearly been holding in for weeks. Even though the situation with her car-thief client had calmed down, Dave’s restaurant purchase had scrambled her nervous system all over again.
What had started out looking like a brilliant idea — and an even better investment — was slowly turning into complete chaos.
So after a few calmer weeks, Adele was apparently going through another “difficult period.”
Even though the dear lawyer had deeply offended me, and I mostly wanted to kick the spineless IT guy under the trolley, I generously decided to put an end to every awful conversation topic.
“Adele, please just decide where we’re ordering food from. If I place the order while we’re standing in line at checkout, the delivery guy will probably arrive right when we get home.”
Adele shrugged moodily.
“Let’s do Pasta King. I desperately need a massive amount of carbs.”
“Works for me,” Mark muttered.
As if either of them had any right to be offended.
Honestly, I was happy about the pasta. At this point, I’d pour spicy sauce over literally anything and wash it down with giant gulps of gin and tonic.
I even slipped a cheap bottle of gin into the trolley so Mark wouldn’t try stealing from the pink one again.