Page 15 of Again, In Autumn

She was keeping me at bay and keeping secrets, for some reason, despite wanting claiming to want a special sister summer and guaranteeing that David would be working at the market. She forbade me from going on a date with Adam because of it.

I also missed my damn cruise.

However, like always, I swallowed the hurt and didn’t blame her. Francesca, with the blue teary eyes, never saw my anger. I rarely let my hurt grow big enough to become that feeling, so I said to Adam, “Okay, I’ll have some out for when you guys get back.”

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re not coming with us?”

I watched the lean muscle of his bicep and looked away quickly.

“No,” I answered. “I’m not a big fan of boats.”

Lie.

“That’s a shame,” Adam said. “You’re missing out.”

Protecting my sister meant protecting me. I pretended that I didn’t let her walk all over me, that she wasn’t leaving me out.

“Yeah, well, that’s just how it goes,” I replied. I gave him a halfhearted smile and held my basket up as a goodbye. “I’ll see ya later.”

“Bye.” He watched me walk down the aisle.

But, as is the way with grocery stores, unless you’re walking out at the same time or someone leaves the store first, you’re bound to bump into them again.

The first time we saw each other again, I smiled politely, and he gave me that look, complete with his own kind of smile.

The next time, I said, “Howdy,” tipping my imaginary hat in the freezer aisle.

“Good day to you, ma’am,” he followed when we met again beside loaves of bread.

He appeared beside me suddenly, both of us staring at fresh fish we didn’t intend to buy. I offered, “It’s the chicken of the sea.”

With all seriousness, he replied, “You can tuna guitar, but you can’t tuna fish.” He shook his head with embarrassment, and I bit back a smile.

Then, I picked up a cartoon of eggs, and Adam muttered in my ear, “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

“That’s egg-ellent advice,” I responded, biting back a smile.

I saw him looking at dry beans. I needed nothing down this aisle, but I wanted to be around him some more. I wanted to know what he would say next.

As I walked behind him, he winked and said, “It’s raining cats and dogs.” He shrugged, and I snorted a laugh.

“You got it, dude,” I said with a thumbs up, nearly bumping into a confused woman clutching a box of pasta.

“They killed Kenny!” Adam yelled back, holding up an orange bag of Cheetos.

We managed to check out at the same time. I picked up a bottle of chocolate milk from a cooler and gave it a shake. Standing in opposite lines, I called to him, “My sources say no.”

He picked up a can of soda, shook it, and immediately grimaced. “Outlook not so good.”

I covered a laugh when he attempted to put it back in the minifridge, catching the angry look of the cashier. Adam held his hands up in defeat and set the soda on the conveyer belt.

As we checked out, I looked back, and Adam was staring right at me. I viewed the contents being placed into paper bags. We easily spent fifteen minutes in the store, walking around, but he only bought a few things, a similar number of items he had when we first saw each other.

We walked into the sunny parking lot at the same time, his shoulder bumping up against mine until I stopped at my bike and asked him, “What did you buy?”

He ran his hands through his hair and closed the bag suspiciously. “Nothing.”

“Tell me,” I insisted.

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