body also, so we were face to face. "Civilian exits -- two at
the front, two on the right, and one on the left." Impressive.
"There's also merchandise loading docks and an extra employee entrance at
the back."
He
did his homework.
"What
did the nametag say of the employee who asked if we needed assistance?"
"Natalie."
"What
color hair did the lady we last passed have?"
"Blonde."
"What
was she doing?" I asked, thinking I'd finally trip him up with this one.
He
smirked. "Checking out my ass."
I
wanted to smile at his flippant but accurate answer, but I quickly checked it.
Then I looked to my boots and asked, "What color are my eyes?"
"Blue,"
he answered instantly. I almost raised my head to look at him but paused when
he said in a more subdued tone, "But there's also a small ring of green
around your pupil."
I
looked at him from underneath my lashes and had to remind myself that it would
be ridiculous if he didn't know my eye color. But standing under his intense
gaze, that was by no means a glaring one, knowing that didn't stop the
fluttering in my stomach.
I'd
never wanted to harm a butterfly before in my life, but right then I could have
done some damage out of sheer frustration.
When
neither of us spoke again, he muttered, "I pass your test?"
"Wasn't
a test."
"What
was it?"
"Curiosity."
I realized the bitterness between us had faded a bit, so I threw out an insult
to restore it because I was feeling a little exposed. "Surprised you knew
my eye color," I said, acid infused in my tone.
Instantly,
he crossed his arms. A different kind of fighting stance. "Of course I
know your eye color. You glare at me enough." Then he added on a mutter,
"Though I am surprised to see the whites of your eyes."
I
wanted to glare and laugh at the same time, but I was sick of glaring, and
laughter was not something I wanted to share with Ethan, so I turned back
toward the onions in dismissal and threw a few into the cart.
Not
ten minutes later, I had mellowed out a bit and was doubled over, leaning
against the cart handle with my chin hovering over my hands while Ethan was
trying to decide between brands of sweet tea. I was watching an employee
restock a shelf when Ethan spoke again, out of the blue.
"What
was the first item I placed in the cart?"
"Mustard."
For
a split second, I thought he was just trying to recall information, but then I
found him watching me in speculation, and I knew it was his turn. Fair enough.
"How
many people have been on this aisle since we've been standing here?"
"Three."
"Describe
them."
"Woman,
between fifty and sixty, short gray hair, weird pink track suit that's, no
doubt, an attempt to feel young. Ten year old kid with blond hair and red
shoes ran down the aisle for kicks and giggles. Man, mid-forties, semi-formal
dress, stripped tie the same color as your eyes."
His
eyes flashed at that last bit. Hmm. Maybe I should have simply said blue and
been done with it . Oops.
"How
long have we been here?"
"Long
enough." He didn't say anything and I sighed. "Thirty
minutes."
"How
tall am I?"
"About
six, one."
"How
many woman have checked me out since we've been here?" he asked with a
straight face.
"Four
and a half." He raised his brow and I said, "One was twelve."
"What
color are my fighting hand wraps?"
"Navy
blue with black accents," I said without hesitation. And then I snapped
my mouth closed and wanted to slap myself, because son of a bitch, I realized
what he was doing. He was digging to find out how much attention I paid to him ,
specifically, and I was just giving it away! Shit.
I
gave him a withering look and straightened away from the handle slowly.
"I'll go get the cheese and sandwich meats," I spat at him.
"Asshole," I muttered just loud enough that he heard me. I saw his
jaw clench angrily as I passed by him and I felt a little satisfaction from
that.
And
then I thought of Ollie and felt a healthy dose of
the front, two on the right, and one on the left." Impressive.
"There's also merchandise loading docks and an extra employee entrance at
the back."
He
did his homework.
"What
did the nametag say of the employee who asked if we needed assistance?"
"Natalie."
"What
color hair did the lady we last passed have?"
"Blonde."
"What
was she doing?" I asked, thinking I'd finally trip him up with this one.
He
smirked. "Checking out my ass."
I
wanted to smile at his flippant but accurate answer, but I quickly checked it.
Then I looked to my boots and asked, "What color are my eyes?"
"Blue,"
he answered instantly. I almost raised my head to look at him but paused when
he said in a more subdued tone, "But there's also a small ring of green
around your pupil."
I
looked at him from underneath my lashes and had to remind myself that it would
be ridiculous if he didn't know my eye color. But standing under his intense
gaze, that was by no means a glaring one, knowing that didn't stop the
fluttering in my stomach.
I'd
never wanted to harm a butterfly before in my life, but right then I could have
done some damage out of sheer frustration.
When
neither of us spoke again, he muttered, "I pass your test?"
"Wasn't
a test."
"What
was it?"
"Curiosity."
I realized the bitterness between us had faded a bit, so I threw out an insult
to restore it because I was feeling a little exposed. "Surprised you knew
my eye color," I said, acid infused in my tone.
Instantly,
he crossed his arms. A different kind of fighting stance. "Of course I
know your eye color. You glare at me enough." Then he added on a mutter,
"Though I am surprised to see the whites of your eyes."
I
wanted to glare and laugh at the same time, but I was sick of glaring, and
laughter was not something I wanted to share with Ethan, so I turned back
toward the onions in dismissal and threw a few into the cart.
Not
ten minutes later, I had mellowed out a bit and was doubled over, leaning
against the cart handle with my chin hovering over my hands while Ethan was
trying to decide between brands of sweet tea. I was watching an employee
restock a shelf when Ethan spoke again, out of the blue.
"What
was the first item I placed in the cart?"
"Mustard."
For
a split second, I thought he was just trying to recall information, but then I
found him watching me in speculation, and I knew it was his turn. Fair enough.
"How
many people have been on this aisle since we've been standing here?"
"Three."
"Describe
them."
"Woman,
between fifty and sixty, short gray hair, weird pink track suit that's, no
doubt, an attempt to feel young. Ten year old kid with blond hair and red
shoes ran down the aisle for kicks and giggles. Man, mid-forties, semi-formal
dress, stripped tie the same color as your eyes."
His
eyes flashed at that last bit. Hmm. Maybe I should have simply said blue and
been done with it . Oops.
"How
long have we been here?"
"Long
enough." He didn't say anything and I sighed. "Thirty
minutes."
"How
tall am I?"
"About
six, one."
"How
many woman have checked me out since we've been here?" he asked with a
straight face.
"Four
and a half." He raised his brow and I said, "One was twelve."
"What
color are my fighting hand wraps?"
"Navy
blue with black accents," I said without hesitation. And then I snapped
my mouth closed and wanted to slap myself, because son of a bitch, I realized
what he was doing. He was digging to find out how much attention I paid to him ,
specifically, and I was just giving it away! Shit.
I
gave him a withering look and straightened away from the handle slowly.
"I'll go get the cheese and sandwich meats," I spat at him.
"Asshole," I muttered just loud enough that he heard me. I saw his
jaw clench angrily as I passed by him and I felt a little satisfaction from
that.
And
then I thought of Ollie and felt a healthy dose of
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