Page 16 of Flirting with the Scrooge

NUT BUTTER

Connor

Why does there have to be so many varieties of peanut butter? There’s crunchy, creamy, organic, and natural. If I’m not eating natural peanuts, am I’m eating artificial peanuts? Lab made peanuts? Is that a thing? And don’t get me started on whatever nut butter is. That sounds like something I shouldn’t be putting in my mouth. I yank a container of creamy off the shelf and toss it into my cart. Now I better go contemplate my life decisions in front of the many varieties of jelly.

I picked up a lot of essentials as soon as I got to town, but I was in and out. I wasn’t going to spend too much time shopping around since that would lead to the chance of more people seeing, and possibly recognizing, me. When I poured the last drop of milk into my cereal, I knew grocery shopping was necessary. Instead of shopping in the daylight, I ate my dry cereal for breakfast and carried on with my day. Now I have thirty minutes before the grocery store closes and I’m trying to throw as much shit in my cart as possible. So far, the foot traffic has been minimal, so I haven’t had to duck and run yet.

As I’m about to leave, a familiar scent wafts past me. Vanilla with a hint of lavender. I remember it from when her body was flush against mine in the snowbank. Twisting my neck, I catch sight of blonde hair under a knit cap and navy coat. She walks past me as she talks on the phone. Thankfully, she’s not on speaker while she shops. Those people are annoying as fuck. I have the urge to walk up next to them and start screaming obscenities. Maybe they’ll get the hint that I don’t need to hear their conversation, but probably not.

She rounds the corner at the other end of the aisle, and I turn my cart around and follow her. The jelly can wait. I eavesdrop on her conversation as she talks to someone about a party and Christmas decorations. Then it dawns on me, she briefly mentioned something about a neighborhood decorating contest. That was until I slammed the door on her. I feel bad about that. But she caught me in a bad mood. I have to admit the cookies she made were fucking delicious. They reminded me of the ones Grams would make, except for the oatmeal raisin. Those shouldn’t even be considered a cookie. Disgusting pucks of crap is more like it.

As I trail behind her, like the stalker I guess I’m becoming, a piece of black fabric falls from under her coat and flutters to the floor. She continues her power walking around the corner to the next aisle. I hurry to see what it is. Bending down, I scoop it off the epoxy resin flooring. The silky fabric is smooth between my fingers. Son of a bitch. These are her underwear. Quickly, I glance around to see if anyone else saw anything, and then I shove them into my coat pocket.

I race out of the side aisle and down the center aisle, shifting my gaze down each one to see if I can find her. The cart slides to a halt when I finally spot her. She’s no longer on the phone, instead she’s tapping her chin with her finger, staring at the shelves of candy. She tosses a box of candy canes into a basket looped around her arm.

I stroll down the aisle, careful to not draw attention to myself until I’m standing almost directly behind her. “Excuse me, miss?”

She jumps and spins around. “Oh!” As soon as her gaze meets mine, her tone changes and she props her hand on her hip. “Oh. It’s you.”

“It’s funny how we keep running into each other.” I flash her a sly grin. Now that I have a closer view, something is different about her. She’s not all dressed up, hair perfectly styled, face covered in makeup. She’s more relaxed and comfortable in a hoodie that must be three sizes too big for her. I could get used to seeing her like this.

“Or not so funny, since you’re stalking me. What do you want? Are you here to tackle me to get the last bag of chocolate chips? Since I don’t have snow, I’ll have to use this jar of caramel sauce instead.” She reaches into her basket and holds up a glass jar.

“Are you telling me you want to pour caramel sauce over my body and lick it off? Normally, I require a first date, maybe hold hands, but if you want to get right to it—”

“No, you scrooge. I’d throw it at your head—never mind. What do you want? I don’t want to exchange pleasantries with you.” She narrows her gaze at me.

“What happened to ‘Oh, Connor. You saved my life. I owe you so much’,” I say in a high-pitched falsetto voice.

She pops her hip. “I didn’t say that. And right now, I kinda wish the car would have hit me. It would have at least saved me from this conversation.”

“Nah. I would have visited you in the hospital.”

She shakes her head. “I was afraid of that. What do you want so I can get back to my shopping?”

A slow smile spreads across my lips. “I have something for you.” I shove my hand into my pocket, grab the panties, and hold my balled fist toward her.

Her eyebrows knit together as she eyes me and then my fist. I nod for her to hold out her hand. Slowly she lifts her open palm under mine. I drop the fabric into her hand. Confusion covers her face until she opens the crumpled ball of fabric. Two seconds later, her cheeks flush a cherry red and fuck, the color looks good on her. Quickly, she clenches her fist and shoves her hand into her pocket.

“Where did you get those?” She leans in and whispers. “Did you break into my house and steal my underwear?”

I bark out a laugh. “Wow, you think very highly of me. But no. You dropped them a few aisles back. Must have been the static.”

“Oh my god.” She pulls open her jacket to see if anything else will fall off her. Then she glances over one shoulder and then the other, probably hoping to not find anything else stuck to her.

“I was just being a gentleman and returning this before some creep found them and took them home. Sniffed them. Maybe touched himself while—”

Her hand flies up and covers my mouth. “Don’t finish that sentence.” She drops her hand and her body trembles as her face scrunches in disgust. We share a moment of silence before she says, “Thank you. That was nice of you… I guess.” A small smile flirts on her lips.

Her smiles are becoming the favorite part of my day. Moments like this, two people having a conversation, is exactly what I crave. Granted, it’s a conversation about her panties, but it’s still a conversation, and it’s real. No hidden agenda. No favors being asked. Only two people talking in the candy aisle.

“No one said I was nice.” A few seconds of silence pass between us. I don’t want this conversation to end so I spit out the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m surprised to see you out looking like that.”

Her expression goes from friendly to hurt. She glances down, then tugs her coat closed. “What do you mean? Are you saying I look like a heaping pile of trash?”

Shit. Open mouth, insert foot. “No. That’s not what I meant. Usually, you’re all dressed up and perfect. It’s refreshing to know you can be… relaxed. It’s a good look on you.”

Her face softens a fraction. “Um… Thank you?”

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