which was a much bigger town, to do Target.
When I’d suggested to Adam that Walmart was okay, he’d looked at me like my head had grown two sizes.
“We’re not doing Walmart,” he said. “Do you ever see the People of Walmart? That’s a very real thing. And, sadly, they aren’t even the tip of the iceberg.” He paused. “Nathan told me of an arrest he made last night.”
I knew that it was going to be good, so I asked.
“A woman decided to steal something,” he said. “Ask me where she hid it.”
I almost didn’t want to know. “Where?”
“In her vagina,” he said. “The whole thing. Right up her snatch.”
I gagged a little. “That’s gross.”
He shrugged. “That’s life at Walmart. And I’m sorry, but unless I need something super, duper bad, I avoid it at all costs. We’re going to Target.”
And to Target we went.
The drive itself took thirty minutes, and since we were still stuck in Adam’s truck, it wasn’t nearly as fun of a drive.
I mean, I would much rather be wrapped around the man for those thirty minutes, feeling the wind in my hair, than sitting in the seat beside him.
But he held my hand the entire time, so that made it kind of worth it.
After parking at the back of the lot—which was quite busy for the middle of the week might I add—we walked inside.
We got inside the store and were browsing the underwear section when the first person noticed who I was.
She sneered at me, whispered something to her friend, and kept moving.
I added a couple of packages of plain ol’ cotton underwear to the cart that Adam was pushing.
“Bras?” Adam asked. “You use cotton bras, too?”
I shrugged as I reached for a pack of sports bras. “What did you want me to do, run in a push-up bra? Spoken by someone that doesn’t have boobs.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just kind of expected you to wear something a bit sexier. Or, maybe I was envisioning lace. And you put something in there that has ‘maximum coverage and support.’” He read that last part off the packaging.
I looked at him, then said, “My boobs are slightly big, Adam. That means they don’t stay where they’re placed. They need the support and coverage.” I paused, grinning at him. “Imagine running naked. Where would your dick and balls go if there was nothing to hold them in place?”
“Touché,” he teased. “What next?”
What was next was socks.
Then a couple pairs of sweatpants, tank tops, and a pair of flip-flops.
“I’m too picky about workout gear to get it here,” I said, passing that particular section. “I’m picky about the fit. Seams. Shit like that.”
“Amen,” Adam drawled. “If anyone knows how you feel when it comes to that, it’s me.”
I tossed him a grin over my shoulder, then finished off my clothes shopping with a cute little bathing suit that was on the clearance rack.
After tossing that in, I came to a stop and pointed.
“I have to run to the bathroom before we make it to the back sections,” I said, feeling the three cups of coffee that I’d had before heading this way.
He followed me, stopping in the dollar section near the front.
“Don’t be too long. Would hate to have to follow you in,” he murmured.
I rolled my eyes and went to the bathroom, and it was upon my exit of the stall that I felt the push to my sternum.
“Listen up, whore,” the woman who’d done the pushing said. “You need to get the fuck out of here.”
See, there was good Amelia that was a wholesome girl and tried to be all that her father wanted her to be.
Then there was Brawler Amelia. The one that had been taught how to defend herself.
The one that really, really didn’t like being touched without permission.
And definitely not by some two-faced skank that likely didn’t wash her fuckin’ hands.
“Listen,” I said, catching myself on the stall door in reaction to her push. “I need to wash my hands. I have toilet juices on it.”
The woman, a girl in her late twenties, early thirties, looked at me with disgust.
“What, you don’t know how to use the bathroom without peeing on yourself?” she said. “That’s just yet another thing that’s wrong with you.”
My lips twitched. “Actually, I do know how to use the shitter without peeing on myself. I touched the door latch, though. And I hover, thank you very much. Oh, and when I flush, I use my foot. But, just