Page 26 of Camera Shy

“I can assure you this isn’t mine,” I say to the grocery delivery man standing on my doorstep. He looks agitated like I’m the last delivery of the day…except I didn’t order any groceries.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. The order says 297 Fisher Street.” He steps back and points to the house numbers on my side paneling. “This is 297 Fisher Street.” He holds two plastic grocery bags out insistently. “Are you sure you didn’t just forget you ordered something?”

Sighing in exasperation, I take the bag from his left hand. I peek inside and see a blue box of tampons, a small tube of scented sensual lubricant, and a brown eyebrow pencil. “I live alone, man. I don’t have a need for tampons.”

“I guess I could just take them back, but we don’t do refunds.”

The eyebrow pencil is a shade nearly identical to Avery’s hair. “Just leave them. I think I know where they’re supposed to go.”

He shrugs and then hands me the other bag. Without further question, he flees down the driveway, cranks his car, and the blaring sound of Latin rap fills the street. I close my front door and head out into the warm evening air to Dex’s house.

Our houses are similar in design, except Dex has at least an extra fifteen hundred square feet. I have paneling. He has stucco. His landscaping makes my little rose bushes out front look like a joke. Everything about Dex’s house screams money, but my favorite part about the guy is he’s so down to earth. Dex is a good friend and I would’ve happily checked in on his fish over the summer. I wonder why he didn’t just ask me for help. He probably assumed I had more interesting plans than excessive runs in the torturous Las Vegas heat. Not to mention there was that one time I fed his fish cereal, but I stand by it. There was no fish food left and I couldn’t let them starve.

Then again, I’m not complaining because meeting Avery was a pleasant surprise. Until she freaked out and ditched me in the backyard last week, I was really enjoying the conversation. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt at ease around a girl.

I snort to myself remembering she put on a tank top to get in the hot tub with me. It’s been a while since a girl has been that modest around me, too. I wonder if she’d be put off knowing that her ample tits have popped into my mind a time or two since I accidentally saw her undress.

I debated asking her out, but she’s only here for the summer. She has fling written all over her and that’s exactly what I’m not trying to do with my life right now. The irony. The first interesting woman I’ve met in months is, of course, not an actual resident of Las Vegas.

Holding both plastic bags in one hand, I ring Dex’s doorbell. After waiting a full minute, I raise my finger to ring once more, but in perfect timing, Avery rips the door open.

Good God.

She looks like a mess.

Avery’s hair is in a high sloppy ponytail. Her oversized T-shirt looks like it was once a dog’s chewing toy. It’s also stained with what I pray is pizza sauce or something.

“You.” She rolls her eyes when she sees me and grumbles. “Would you consider showing up unannounced when I’m not naked or wildly unpresentable?”

“Wow.” I can’t help but smile at her unamused pout. “That’s a rude way to greet the man who comes bearing gifts.” I hold up the grocery bags. “By gifts I mean tampons, of course.”

She hangs her head. “They got delivered to you?”

I nod in response and watch her gaze snap up to mine.

“Wait. You went through my groceries?” She’s trying to sound cross, but her cheeks are bunched in that cute smile.

“I had to confirm they weren’t my tampons…or lube.”

There’s an audible smack when her hands hit her face. “Kill me now,” she mumbles through her fingers as I fall into heaves of laughter. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“I didn’t ask.” I hold out the bags to her. “Feels like there’s something cold in here.”

“Ice cream,” she admits.

“You might want to pop it in the freezer.”

She takes the bags. “Thank you. I must’ve fat-fingered the delivery address. Sorry they bothered you.”

I shrug. “Not at all. It was a good excuse to come over and make sure you were okay.” But is she? Now that I’m only an arm’s length away from her, I notice her swollen eyes and the red tip of her nose. It’s a clear sign that she’s been crying. “Are you…okay?”

“Nope.” She peers into one of the plastic bags. “But a little better now that my dinner’s here…which is melting, so I better—” She throws her head back, gesturing inside.

I can take a hint, so I nod and turn to leave…

But something stops me. Dammit, Finn. It’s not your business. But fuck. When a woman cries like that, I usually know the reason. And if I can help, shouldn’t I?

“Avery, are you only eating ice cream for dinner?”

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