Page 71 of Honeysuckle
I just needed a minute where someone wasn’t expecting something from me.
“Sundaes,” I declared and plastered a smile on my face. “Put a sweater on, it’s still chilly outside.” I pointed to his light t-shirt and grabbed my keys from the hook by the back door.
Josh stared at me for a second before grabbing his hoodie and following me out to the garage. I could feel his judgmental smile between my shoulder blades when I wandered around to the passenger side and opened his door for him. My fingers gripped the frame as he climbed in quietly, hauling the hoodie over his shoulders and messing up his chocolate curls. I wanted to put my fingers in them, to remind myself of how soft they can be even when Josh is so hardened and angry. The feelings were so contradictory and yet…
“What?” He snapped, but there was a hint of softness to the angry question.
I wanted to say nothing, to brush off the way I felt every time I looked at him lately, but I couldn’t ignore the feelings that coursed through me.
“Promise not to punch me?” I asked him with a smile that clearly made him nervous because he cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes on me.
“Nope,” he said. I should have expected that response.
“It’s worth it anyways.” I shrugged slightly. "You look cute when your hair is messy, those days when you forget a hat.”
Josh’s cheeks flushed with color, and he grumbled something under his breath before grabbing the door handle and shutting the door on my face.
“At least it wasn’t a punch,” I chuckled as I walked to the driver's side.
“Push this,” I said, handing him the cart and walking ahead of him into the grocery store. Josh leaned over the bar of the shopping cart and lazily walked along behind me. Every so often, I’d turn around to see if he was still following me in his hoodie and jeans, mindlessly looking around at the shelves.
It was odd to see Josh in such a mundane light.
“What are we here for again?” He asked as we circled into the freezer section.
“Ice cream, sprinkles, toppings, syrup…lots of syrup.” I opened the door and grabbed a pail of vanilla and a pail of chocolate before tossing them both into the cart.
“You really are an overgrown child, aren’t you, Tuck?” He asked.
“Are you gonna look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t like ice cream?” I asked him and grabbed a pail of strawberry, just in case.
“I don’t like ice cream.” He shrugged.
“Liar, you’re a tiny bundle of angry lies.” I put my hands in the air.
“Get it off your chest.” Josh laughed, and his smile was bright across his face.
“Are you laughing at me right now?” I said, leading the cart toward the candy aisle.
“You’re not preparing for war, Tuck. You’re shopping for candy to feed a championship college baseball team ice cream sundaes for dinner…” he followed closely, and the sound of him teasing was warm and familiar. I missed it. The mockery. He had been so tense and quiet for the last few days, hearing the ridicule back in his voice and seeing the smugness back on his face made me feel better about everything.
“Don’t diminish the sundaes, tough guy. Just because you don’t know how to have fun doesn’t mean you can make everyone else miserable!” I called out and collected a few bags of candy into my arms. “Catch.” I tossed them in the direction of the cart, and Josh zig-zagged to catch them all.
“I’m not making anyone miserable,” he groaned as he walked closer.
“Me, I’m miserable.”
Josh rolled his eyes. “Yah, you look real miserable, Tuck.”
“You know I hate when you call me that, right?” I reminded him, and he just shrugged. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”
“It makes your ears turn red,” Josh said, and for a moment I thought he was teasing me, but then I turned to look at him again with a bag of marshmallows in my hands. There was a genuine smile on his face, and the urge to kiss him returned, even after trying so hard to push it down.
“Can’t be worse than Franklin,” I sighed.
“You have a point,” Josh laughed and took the marshmallows from me. “The banana ones,” he said, pointing at a hot pink bag that contained those synthetic chewy banana marshmallows. “What’s withFranklinanyways?”
I chucked him the banana candy and sighed. “It’s my grandpa’s name. I think they meant me to be more Prince William and less Prince Harry.”
