Once I’m out of the hotel, I use my phone to search out the closest grocery. Then I use the navigation to point me toward a place called Trader Joe’s. Whenever we plan to spend extended time in a city, I always investigate the best clubs and restaurants but I’ve never really thought about things like groceries before. Living out of a hotel means you don’t have to.
But today, I want to feel normal. I need to be around people and noise and life. As I walk, the chatter of the people I pass flows around me. The many different American accents are a fascinating jumble and then there are the occasional foreign accents thrown in. Being the capital, DC always maintains a healthy community of dignitaries and visitors from other countries along with many foreign exchange students. Although I know it’s not Andre’s favorite place, I always love it when we come here.
The entrance to the store is covered in a riot of flowers. The blooms are festive and my mood lifts instantly. Shoppers mill around outside looking at the potted plants and there are even bales of hay strewn around the displays. Before I came to America for the first time I’d imagined meeting cowboys on every corner. The reality wasn’t quite as fun but I can admit to still carrying a bit of fascination for the idea even now.
Following the crowd, I take a little basket just like the woman in front of me. It shouldn’t be that difficult to blend in. I’ll just watch what everyone else does and then follow suit. There are large displays of vegetables set around the open space. It reminds me of the outdoor markets in Europe. The woman I’m following picks up some kind of melon and taps it.
Is that how you’re supposed to choose fruit? I pick up a clump of bananas and tap them before placing them in my basket. This grocery thing isn’t so bad. Next I see a display of large tomatoes. I tap several before choosing one that looks the biggest. A man in the aisle next to me stares as I pick up an orange and tap it.
Am I doing it wrong?
When I turn to observe how everyone else is picking fruits, I bump into the person behind me.
“Sorry, sir. I didn’t see you.”
The sweet voice doesn’t match the devilish face that comes into view when I turn.
“Oh my god. You have got to be kidding me.” Ariana waves the cucumber in her hand at me. “How does this keep happening?”
“I told you already. Fate.”
ARIANA
What is it with this guy? First in the bar, then in the hospital and now I can’t even manhandle phallic-shaped veggies without him hanging over my shoulder.
He calls it fate. But it’s probably more like karma. The universe seems to be having a good laugh shoving the one guy I might actually want in my face at the exact time in my life that I can’t keep him.
That thought reminds me of the appointment I have coming up that I’ve been ignoring. With a sigh, I place the cucumber I’ve been waving around in my basket before moving on to the peppers.
“I hope you’re making something that tastes better than the bland shit I’ve been eating lately.”
He peers into my basket curiously before I can switch it to the other arm. His wrist still has a splint on it but his long sleeves cover most of it. He looks a little odd wearing a cashmere sweater when it’s so hot outside and his hair definitely hasn’t seen a brush in days but otherwise he looks like a slightly rumpled guy with a perfectly stubbled jaw.
I blow out a breath. The man really is too sexy for his own good. Which means I need to get rid of him. Stat.
“Is this a good orange?” He holds it up and taps the side, putting his ear next to the peel.
“What are you doing?”
“Tapping it. Isn’t that how you do it? I saw a woman tapping her fruit so I thought it was supposed to sound a certain way.”
Holding back a smile, I take the orange from his hand and place it in his basket. “You only tap certain fruits. Usually melons.”
He looks disappointed. “Oh. And I was enjoying it so much.”
As I move to the salad section, I’m acutely aware of him following closely. This can’t really be a coincidence, can it? Seeing him in this many places in DC has to violate all the laws of probability. But I can’t deny the little flash of pleasure that zipped through me when I saw him. He has a way of grinning that makes me feel it all the way down to my toes. Like seeing me has made his day.
It’s the kind of thing that’s really hard to forget.
When he reaches in the next display case for a single serving of salad, his sleeve moves back revealing the splint. I tell myself that I’m just checking him out in a medical sense, making sure he’s really okay after his accident. When he catches me watching him, his lips curl.
“Keeping a close eye on me, bella?”
“I’m just looking at your wrist. You seem to be healing nicely. That’s good.”
His brow furrows. “That’s it? You aren’t going to ask how I felt about you abandoning me at the hospital?”
“I didn’t abandon you. My shift was over and I had to go.”