lifting.”
I shrug my shoulders and keep an eye on the cashier’s screen, watching the total tick up higher by the second.
“Are you sure you really want to get all of this?” I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. He already admitted to only having a party because he wanted me to come over. So that he would know that I am safe. Now he is spending an arm and a leg to make that happen. He reaches up, pulling my lip out from between my teeth.
“Don’t bite yourself.” I lick my lips. “I can afford it.” He pulls out his wallet. I step to the side so he can slide his card through the machine.
“Some party you must be having,” the cashier says. I notice her eyes eat up Daman. I turn to look away, not wanting anyone to see that it irritates me. Daman isn’t mine so I’m not sure why I’m letting it bother me. If another girl wants to look at him, she can. There aren’t any rules against it. He doesn’t have a ring on his finger.
“Yes, we are having a party,” Daman answers. I peek back to the girl. Her red curly hair is piled on top of her head. I know she’s waiting for an invite. Daman doesn’t issue one. He stands there looking bored instead.
“I need your ID.” He reaches back into his wallet, handing it over to her.
“Is this where the party is?”
My mouth falls open at her audacity. She totally just read the address off his license. How rude and unprofessional is that? Daman takes his ID back as she starts to scan the alcohol. I had no idea what to get. I picked up everything that looked fruity and a couple bottles of champagne that were covered in glitter.
She rattles off the total as she starts to bag some of the stuff. I pick it up, putting it into the cart. The bagger helps me. “I got it,” Daman tells the boy. “I’ll help her.” He moves to take his spot, bagging up the groceries himself.
“So do you mind if I pop in? I get off in an hour.” She smiles at Daman as if I’m not even here.
“Sure.” He shrugs, placing the last bag into the cart. I stand there, shocked. He looks over to me. “Did we forget something?”
I shake my head no. He studies my face for a moment. I turn without speaking another word to him. I head toward the door, not wanting him to know how badly his approval had stung.
“Get in. It’s cold.” He unlocks the doors before he pops the truck, loading everything inside. I slip into the car, putting my seatbelt on. A moment later Daman is in the car pulling out of the parking lot. I don’t even look at him. I stare out the passenger window watching the landscape pass by.
“Are you not excited for the party anymore?” I shrug, still not turning towards him. “Is this the silent treatment I hear that women give?”
“I’m not giving you the silent treatment. I’m fine.”
“Fine? I heard that’s worse than the silent treatment.”
A small laugh escapes me.
“Did I do something wrong?” He reaches over, taking my hand. His fingers intertwine with mine. I can’t help but notice how small and delicate my own hand looks next to his.
“No. I don’t think you did anything wrong.” I finally look over at him.
“But something is bothering you?” Oh God. He’s going to make me say it. I’m going to look like a crazy jealous girlfriend. I’m not even his girlfriend! He’s going to think that I’m a complete nutcase. I’ve known him for all of an hour and I’m acting as though we’ve been dating for years.
“She was hitting on you,” I finally admit. He glances over at me, looking adorably confused. “The cashier,” I say because he can’t be that oblivious to it.
“The one who wants to come to the party?”
“Yes. She was checking you out and then she got your address from your driver’s license like a crazy person.” Okay, I might be the crazy person getting jealous, but he asked and now it’s all vomiting out of my mouth.
“She will not be coming. She was only making conversation.” For someone that seems so sure of himself, he doesn’t pick up on social cues very well. How the heck did he miss her throwing herself at him?
“Trust me. She’s coming.” I try and pull my hand from his, but he doesn't