Page 7 of Topped

It would be annoying to explain to everyone why I was back with the same tubs, but it was worth it to know Rupert would be stopping by later.

That felt like another win, and if I wasn’t careful, it would go to my head.

Ah fuck it, what did it matter if it did? A little ego was good for the soul. Besides, without it, Rupert wouldn’t be coming to see me.

All I had to do now was make sure I didn’t scare him away.

“Which tubs have you got there?” I asked as I looked up to see Alfie with two in his hands. They looked suspiciously like Rupert’s, which I supposed wasn’t hard when all the tubs were the same. Even so I had to check.

It was much later in the afternoon, and we were closing up for the day. Rupert still hadn’t come by, and there was an antsy, itchy feeling under my skin I couldn’t shake. I was driving Alfie mad with my pacing, dancing, and incessant chatter—the pressed line of his lips telling me he was two minutes away from telling me to sod off.

Which he wouldn’t because Alfie was a good boy. Mostly.

“I’ve got mine and Jonathan’s,” he said, with a heavy hint of fond exasperation. He tilted the tubs so I could see his writing on the lids. “See. Mine, not yours.”

“I was just checking!”

“I know, but I promise, I won’t take yours.”

“Thank you.” I stretched, let out a huffed hum of boredom, and drummed my fingers on the counter. I didn’t even know what time Rupert closed, but I hoped it was soon. I’d always hated waiting and today had felt like I was trapped in eternal doctor’s waiting room.

“You know, if you’re bored you could start deep cleaning the freezers,” Alfie said, gesturing at the two display freezers I was leaning against. “They need doing.”

I groaned dramatically. “But that’s so boring! I don’t wanna.”

“I know, but you could be nice and do it anyway.”

“Or I could wait here and not do that.”

“You could,” Alfie said. “But it still needs doing. If it doesn’t get done today, we’ll have to do it tomorrow.”

“Fine, I’ll make a start. We’re not going to need two for October. Our footfall has already dropped enough that I think we can pretty much shut one down until March.” I could switch it off and clean it out, the same as we did every week. It wouldn’t actually take long. But my brain had decided it would be boring and tedious and was screaming at me like a toddler having a meltdown, and even though I’d said to Alfie I’d do it, I wasn’t convinced I would.

“That’s what I was thinking.” He smiled at me. It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but we were interrupted by Darcy appearing through the kitchen door with a sweet look on his face that belied the deviousness in his voice.

“Milo, Rupert is at the back door for you. He’s here for his ice cream.”

“Cheers,” I said as I straightened and opened the little freezer under the counter behind me. His tubs were right there where I’d left them.

“Do you want me to tell him to come in?”

“No, I’ll go out to him.”

“You can invite him in. It’s still raining.”

“Nope, because then you fuckers will spy on us.” I walked through to the kitchen and shot a pointed look at Owen, who was unloading the dishwasher. “Make sure your boyfriend doesn’t follow me, please. I don’t need a parent.”

Owen laughed. “Will do.”

He was just as bad as Darcy, so there was a good chance he’d be listening on the other side of the door too, but I could live in hope.

Rupert was waiting a few steps away from the door, lingering like he wasn’t sure if he should be here or not. He had his coat and hat on, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding his open, yellow umbrella, and a bag slung over his shoulder. He looked up as the door squeaked open, and I noticed he was playing with his bottom lip, pulling it nervously between his teeth.

His lips were fuller than I’d remembered. Or maybe I’d never really noticed them before. They were a soft rosy brown, and there was a tiny mole in one corner, just under his bottom lip. My fingers ached with the need to touch it. For no other reason than it was there and I wanted to. His skin was a warm brown with a cool, pink flush across his cheeks, and a scattering of freckles across his nose under the bridge of his glasses.

The two of us looked at each other in silence for a long moment. It was unusual for me because the last word anyone would ever use to describe me was quiet.

“I’ve got your ice cream,” I said slowly, holding the tubs up so he could see them. Filling the silence almost felt awkward, but I had to say something. We couldn’t go on staring at each other all night.