Why are neither of us moving to getunstuck?
“Excuse me!” We turn our attention to a slender guy with aJim,StoreManagertag pinned on his vest. “That microphone isn’t a toy. It’s for Clark employees only.”
“Sorry.” An involuntary laugh spits out, and I scramble to get undone from the cord binding me to Caleb’s chest, something I should’ve done five seconds ago.
“Yeah, sorry.” There’s humor in Caleb’s voice as he unwinds. “We were just—”
“I know what you were doing.” The manager’s glare intensifies. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store. Immediately.”
I step over the last little bit of the cord, freeing myself. “Can we at least pay for our stuff first?”
“No, you need to leave now.”
“But what about our Nyquil?”
Jim the Manager reaches into our shopping cart, taking away the medicine. “You’ve lost your privilege to buy it.”
Caleb loses it. Laughter spills out of him in loud bursts, infuriating Jim even more.
And that’s how we end up being escorted out of Clark’s grocery store by the night security guard.
eighteen
CALEB
Justin sitsup from his spot on the couch the second we come through the door. His tired eyes go to Summer. “Do you have the NyQuil?”
“Uh…” She pulls on the lapels of her coat. “About that.” Her gaze shoots to me, and there’s so much humor in her stare I can’t help but smile. “We got kicked out of the store.”
“What?” His expression distorts to something confused and pinched.
“Yeah, Summer got us in trouble, and the manager made us leave without buying anything.”
“What?” Her jaw drops at the same time her expressive blue eyes drill me. “It was all your fault.”
“My fault? You’re the one who grabbed the microphone and started talking into it.”
“Because you dared me.”
I take my coat off, hanging it up. “I didn’t dare you to say Viagra.”
“And I didn’t dare you to say hemorrhoid cream.”
“So you didn’t get me any medicine?” Justin interrupts.
“No,” we say in unison.
He murmurs and grunts as he stands. “I can’t believe you guys. How am I supposed to sleep with a stuffy nose?”
Summer walks to him. “I’m sorry. I can go back out.”
“Forget about it.” He waves her away. “I’m going to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
We watch in silence as he stomps down the hall to his room. Summer sighs, her posture deflating.
“Don’t worry about him,” I say, heading to the kitchen. “It’s just a man cold. He’ll live.”
“You think?” She meets me by the kitchen, resting her elbows on the bar.
