Page 91 of The Loathing

“Excuse me,” I stand slowly, being mindful to make sure my dignity is shielded as I stand.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, get ready and we can go when I come back downstairs,” I turn to face away from him and disappear up the stairs. I had no reason to come up here other than to break thick tension that surrounds us. I stand with my back against the wall, inhaling deeply I hold my breath for five then breathe it back out once more.

I hate being this girl.

I want to feel the fire in my belly, I want my tongue to be sharp, but here I am, breathing in and out because my bodyguard touched my leg.

“Pathetic,” I mutter under my breath. I close my eyes for a moment, vowing to leave this person behind.

I wasn’t a damsel in distress. I was an Archibald.

Even if my father was a bit of a dickhead.

* * *

Walking through the aisles of the shop, Titus threw all sorts into the trolley. I had no idea how long he thought we would be here for but by the looks of the contents, it seemed like months.

“Are you stocking up for hibernation or something?” I joke, nudging him with my elbow.

“Well, I don’t know what you like… so I thought I would just grab enough so we always have something to grab.”

“I like your thinking,” I smile as we pass the biscuits. I reach up and grab a few packets of biscuits and drop them into the trolley.

“I like to have tea and biscuits,” I answer Titus’ confused look, “ohhh, of course. Because you have biscuits, but they’re more like scones over here… these are more like cookies I suppose, but obviously not cookies,” a laugh bubbles out of me.

“I’ll have to give them I try,” he winks before pushing forward and heading for the tills.

“Are we not getting margaritas?” I stop, his eyes finding mine as he looks over his shoulder at me before he looks round the large grocery store.

“Yeah, but from the liquor store, right?”

I shake my head from side to side, “Oh Titty,” I scoff at the nickname my father gave him, “let me show you.”

I lead him and stop at the alcohol aisle.

“I thought you had to go to a liquor store or something, I didn’t know you could grab it from a grocery store like this.”

“Is that how it is over in America?”

He shakes his head, and I can’t stop my laugh.

“Then why did you think it was like that here, in England?” I ask as I lead him towards the alcohol.

“I have no idea, was just a guess.”

“Pick your poison,” I hold my arms out and the shelves that are stocked with alcohol.

“I am good with margaritas Twilight, are you?”

“Yup,” I reach for two bottles of ready-made cocktails.

“We will make them ourselves…” he reaches out, wrapping his fingers round my wrist.

“I am happy with these,” I shrug, “easier then? We can just pour and drink.”

“Okay,” his fingers uncurl from mine.

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