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And … there it was.

“Sure,” he said finally, his voice somewhat flat.

I laughed before I could stop myself. “Wow. Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”

His ears went red. “I meant yes,” he amended, his tone more certain.

“Yeah, I got that.” I clapped him on the arm and grabbed my cart handle. “Come on. Let’s finish up. I’m starving.”

“Sorry. I’m … I don’t really get invited to hang out with many people. You caught me off guard, is all.”

I bumped my shoulder against his, light and friendly. “Then it’s a good thing we ran into each other. Come on, Teach. Let me pick that big brain of yours so I can figure out what I should be eating.”

He took two steps, then turned back to scoop up the tub of organic yogurt, dropping it into his basket before falling into step beside me.

In the cereal aisle, he stopped at the granola. “Hold up a sec,” he said, pulling two identical-looking bags off the shelf and examining them for a full minute like they held the secrets of the universe.

“Okay, what’s wrong with these?” I finally asked.

He turned the bags around to compare their nutrition panels. “They’re basically the same sugar content, but this one’s got fiber and fat with it, so it doesn’t spike your glucose.”

I didn’t know shit about glycemic indexes, but hearing him talk about it was fascinating in the way that listening to a rocket scientist talk about propulsion was fascinating.

He kept going for another twenty seconds or so—something about sodium now—before he caught himself.

“Sorry.” He put the bag in his left hand back where he’d gotten it. “I’m doing it again.”

“Doing what?” I asked, tossing the one with raisins into my cart.

“The thing where I tell you more than you wanted to know.”

“You’re good,” I said. “I like learning things from you.”

His head snapped my way, his blue eyes wide and … cautious? I couldn’t quite get a read on his expression, only that it wasn’t one I wasn’t familiar with coming from him.

I debated just asking him about it, but didn’t think he’d actually answer. Cally, I’d learned these last few weeks, was really good at deflecting.

“Come on,” I said, turning my cart around to double back to the produce section. “I need more fruit.”

“Go ahead,” he said from behind me, his voice a little tight. “I’ll catch up in a second.”

“Suit yourself.” I shrugged and steered my cart toward the apple display, tossing a bag of Granny Smith into the front seat section. Next, I grabbed a bundle of bananas and made my way toward the cold case to check out the pre-cut selection.

When I went to grab the tub of pineapple chunks, a hand clamped around my wrist and yanked my arm back down.

“No,” Cally said, his voice firm.

Goosebumps erupted on my skin. It was cold here near the display coolers, but where his fingers gripped my skin, I burned.

I sucked in a startled breath, watching Cally’s eyes track to where he was touching me. His eyes widened, and he dropped my arm like he’d been burned, taking a giant step back while clearing his throat.

Shit. Fuck.

I opened my mouth, searching for some excuse to explain away the goosebumps he could obviously see. It’d been a long-ass time since anyone had touched me, that was all. Bodies got confused about that kind of thing all the time. Right? Wires crossed, wrong stimulus.

But Cally didn’t give me the chance to say any of that.

He turned on his heel, nearly knocking over a display, and practically fled toward the registers with his head down.