Page 27 of Lovers in Lockdown

Just after one, the front door swings open and in stumbles Honey, arms loaded with shopping bags. I can barely see her face, they’re piled so high.

She drops the bags in the kitchen with a huff and turns to me with rage burning in her eyes. ‘What is with all those dipshits thieving all the fucking toilet paper?’ she yells, her face screwed up in anger and hands clutching her hips, her knuckles turning white from the strength of her grip.

‘Well, hello to you too.’ I stand and stretch, ready to join her in the kitchen to help unload the shopping but she pins me with a look that tells me it’s probably better for my safety if I stay where I am.

‘Don’t start with your attitude, I amnotin the mood,’ she hisses.

‘Sir, yes, sir,’ I whisper under my breath, taking a seat back on the couch and watching as Honey unpacks the bags with more aggression than is typically needed for such a domestic task.

Even though there’s no doubt she would win a bullfight with just her bare hands right now, given the hideous state of her mood, I’m struggling not to find her anger adorable. Her face is all red and puffy and scrunched up like a toddler having a tantrum and she takes every step with such a forceful stomp of her foot that she closely resembles a rhinoceros. An, adorable, sexy, albeit slightly terrifying, rhinoceros. But a rhinoceros, nonetheless.

When she’s finally finished taking her anger out on the shopping and her face has returned to an almost normal colour, she collapses onto the couch beside me and huffs. ‘Sorry, shopping put me in a piss poor mood.’

‘I can see that,’ I smirk and she scowls, earning her another smirk from me.

She scowls harder.

‘All I wanted was a packet of Oreos, and some dickweed withtwotrollies took three whole boxes and cleared the shelf, so I had no choice but to get the crappy mint ones. I don’t even like mint Oreos.’

I happen to love mint Oreos, but now hardly seems the time to mention it. She claps two hands to her face and screws her eyes shut, looking genuinely heartbroken.

Note to self: work out how to bake homemade Oreos.

‘What were you going shopping for anyway?’ I ask. ‘I thought I bought everything.’

She casts her eyes down like she’s ashamed. ‘You didn’t get me snacks.’

‘Snacks?’ I raise my eyebrows. ‘I bought snacks.’

‘Not the right ones.’

Jesus Christ.

‘You went all the way to the store, stood in that ridiculously long queue and dealt with the overcomplicated one-way system for… snacks?’

She blinks at me stoically, like she can’t work out why I’m finding it so hard to believe. ‘Yep.’

Huh, fair fucking play to her. I can’t say the woman doesn’t go after what she wants.

‘So, how have your classes been this week?’ I ask, changing the subject and walking to the kitchen to make us both a cup of tea. Not that Honey asked for one, but she’s clearly traumatised by her supermarket shenanigans and lack of original flavour oreos, and as all Brits know, tea fixes everything.

Honey beams at the mention of her work, her entire face lighting up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. ‘Amazing,’ she grins. ‘It’s crazy how much I’ve missed those kids over the last few weeks.’

The look on her face and tone of her voice as she talks about her students makes it obvious how much she loves her job. Joy radiates off her in waves.

She’s lucky.

It’s not often that people find a job that brings them genuine happiness. I know I’m in a great position to be working as a head chef in Beijing, but I don’tloveit. Not like Honey does.

One day I hope to open my own restaurant here in London. Have complete creative control and come up with ideas that my shithead boss won’t claim as his own. But until then, I’ve got to stick it out and accept that I‘ll be less content with life until that day finally comes.

‘You’d think that teaching them online would make it easier to keep them under control, but it doesn’t,’ she laughs, shaking her head.

‘I bet.’ Her wide smile is infectious and I can’t help grinning back at her. ‘Have you managed to do any painting of your own recently?’

The smile fades from her face and she narrows her eyes at me suspiciously. ‘A bit, why?’

It’s a weird question to ask, but Honey can be a weird person at times. I brush off her sudden shift in tone. ‘Just wondering,’ I shrug. ‘I’d love to see it.’

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