Page 22 of Red Flag, Green Light

But he is pushing the cart, so it’s fine.

“They also have frozen hot chocolate,” he informs me.

I stop advancing to the next aisle.

Frozen hot chocolate, huh?

Well, I do love me an oxymoron.

“Fine,” I say. “But you’re driving.”

Chapter Seven

Surely this is healthy behavior.

Mars

Sipping banana frozen lemonade out of a straw that Ceres used first feels more illegal than setting a courthouse on fire. And I would know.

Yet, here I am, carrying in my groceries, blushing, and committing crimes.

Hacking into Ceres’s account and canceling her order was the best thing I have ever done in my entire life.

We haven’t even begun working together on the Flag Day festival, yet we’ve already been ontwoless-than-disastrous dates.

I fear I’m addicted now.

I want a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. Or perhaps what I really want is to unload my groceries, decorate my carrot cake in tiny orange hearts, then bring some over to Ceres this evening before crashing on her couch and letting the tip-tap of her computer keys lull me to sleep…

Sighing, I set my groceries down on the counter and know I need to calm down before I push her away. Even though things have been going well, that doesn’t mean I won’t overwhelm her if I’m not careful. I can’t show up out of nowhere then make a point of seeing herevery single day.

I need to be patient.

I need to be cautious.

Just because she’s Sara doesn’t mean she’s looking for acomplete dark romance male lead in real life. This period in our blooming relationship is about closer study. I need to make sure I’m what she wants, not an imposition. And I need to make sure that if real-life Ceres has more boundaries than her alter ego, I don’t cross them.

By doing anything stupid.

Like…cleaning the straw we both used and putting it in a glass display case.

Blinking as I set the straw in my memory box, I wonder if saving it—period—is just as bad as putting it on display.

Staring at the plastic nestled beside a few locks of hair from Jove’s first haircut, our baby teeth, and some photos of Mom, I hum. And close the lid. And tuck my precious box of precious things nice and neatly back under my bed.

“This is fine,” I mutter.

Of course it’s fine.

Normal, even.

I mean, really, if I don’t keep it, who knows where in the ocean it might end up?

This is a service to Mother Nature.

And a memory I can keep, just in case…it’s ever the only thing I have left.

“Jovey?” I murmur, nudging open his bedroom door to find him face-first in his bed, arms at his sides, face suffocatingly smooshed into his pillow. “Cake’s ready,” I provide, gently.

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