Page 8 of Bleed for Me

“Hello Paige.”

Oh. My. God. He remembered my name?

“Hi.” I whisper, then clear my throat. “Hey Mick.”

His eyes light up at the sound of his name, as if he thought I wouldn’t remember him.

How would that be possible? This man is unforgettable.

I look him over and notice he’s wearing much more casual clothing today. Dressed in a pair of basketball shorts, a tight fitting t-shirt, sneakers and a backwards baseball cap.

God, he looks so hot.

I can see the definition of his muscles through the shirt and my mouth waters, imaging what they would look like moving over me. With nothing on. As he thrusts his co-

He coughs and I realize I’ve just been staring at him. My cheeks flame as I quickly look away.

Goddamnit.

Why don’t you just put a sign on your forehead saying “I’M DESPERATE”?

Now fully uncomfortable, I decide to abandon my beans and just hope the salad is still edible without them.

As I start to move, Mick speaks up again. “Did you need something from over here?” Gesturing his hand to the display. I slowly nod. “Pardon me for being in the way.” He ducks his head and shuffles to the side, just far enough for me to walk up but not leaving enough room for the cart. Leaving my new emotional support on wheels, I move over and start grabbing cans. “Would it be rude to ask what you’re making? It looks like it’s going to be good.” He nods to my cart and then glances back at my arms holding the cans, eyes lingering briefly on my chest before looking up again with a soft smile.

My blush deepens and I manage to mumble out a response. “Taco salad. It’s nothing fancy but lasts a few days and is simple, cheap, and tastes good. You know, checks all the boxes for a poor man's diet.”

My eyes widen.

Did I just admit to this man that I’m poor?Good god.

“Not that I’m poor. Well, I kind of am, but it’s no big deal. Like, I can pay rent and buy food and have gotten away without food stamps this far.” I shrug but can’t stop the word vomit. “Not that there’s anything wrong with needing the help. I think people should stop shaming others for needing assistance. Especially since everything has gotten so expensive. It’s a wonder anyone can survive without a dozen roommates. Not that I have any roommates.”

Did you just tell thisstrangerthat you LIVE ALONE?

“I mean, I didn’t mean…I…”

Stop. Talking.

I let out a half choke, half hysterical laugh and back up to my cart, my mouth still opening and closing soundlessly as I try to think of a way out of this whole interaction.

Mick stares at me intently for a moment, then softly says, “I agree, taco salad is a great meal choice.” Reaching toward me, he plucks the cans out of my hands and gently places them into my cart. “I don’t really think it’s the best idea to admit to people you don’t know that you live alone.” He throws a pointed look in my direction. “But it is admirable in this economy to be able to afford that luxury.” His expression is amused as his eyes shine with what I could swear was pride.

My brain has officially shut down. Thrown up a sign that it’s closed for business, good luck and so long.

I continue to stare at him.

What do I say to that? Thank you? Yes, I’m an idiot? Will you come live with me so I’m no longer alone and won’t have to worry about panic blurting it out again?

Amused by my silence, his lips turn up again as he reaches forward and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “It was good to see you again, Paige. Stay safe.” Turning around, he walks away.

I watch in silence as he proceeds to the exit and leaves.

He didn’t even buy anything.

Groaning, I drop my face into my hands.

Did I just embarrass him so badly he had to abandon his shopping trip and run away?

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