I'm Not Like Them

Chapter 4

“I’m not your captain,” Rania muttered, slipping past them toward the vegetables. Her ponytail swayed behind her, and the click of her flats echoed against the polished floor.

Chelsea and Avery exchanged grins. Evan trailed after them, his hands shoved in his pockets, the ghost of amusement flickering on his lips. “Raniaaa,” Chelsea sing-songed, grabbing a head of lettuce and wagging it in front of her friend. “Don’t be so cold. We’re making memories here. A girl, her besties, and… a man who drives a very nice car.”

“Put that down before you bruise it,” Rania said without looking up, scanning prices on a tag.

Evan stepped closer, close enough to hear her but careful not to crowd her. “You always shop like this?” His tone was casual, but his eyes studied her profile, sharp and intent.

“Yes.” She tossed a bundle of scallions into the cart Avery was half-pushing, half-riding on. “Is there another way?”

“Some people grab whatever looks good. You’re precise.” Her eyes flicked to him for a brief second—surprised, maybe even caught off guard—but then she turned back to the shelves. “Or maybe I just know how not to waste money.”

Chelsea leaned her chin dramatically on the cart handle. “See? Wife material,” she teased, eyes darting between the two. “If only she’d let someone appreciate her.”

Avery gasped like it was a scandalous revelation. “Imagine Rania going on a grocery date. This is literally one.”

“Stop it.” Rania’s voice was sharp, but a faint pink crept onto her ears.

Evan’s mouth curved into a smile, quiet and unreadable. He plucked an apple from a display, rolled it in his palm, then set it gently into the cart. “Then I guess I’ll behave. Don’t want to get scolded again.”

That earned him a tiny, involuntary twitch of Rania’s lips before she quickly smoothed it away. Chelsea and Avery saw it—and they nearly doubled over laughing. “Oh my God,” Avery whispered, gripping Chelsea’s arm. “She almost smiled.”

Rania shot them both a glare sharp enough to slice through the fluorescent lighting. “If you two don’t stop, you’ll be the ones pushing this cart all the way home.” That only made them laugh harder, the cart wobbling forward with their weight. Evan’s eyes, however, lingered on Rania—not mocking, not amused, but as if that fleeting half-smile was something he wanted to see again.

The cart rattled unevenly across the glossy floor, Avery perched precariously on its edge while Chelsea steered with the seriousness of a racecar driver. They zigzagged between displays, laughing when Avery nearly toppled into a pyramid of cereal boxes. “Careful!” Rania snapped, snatching the cart away before disaster struck. “You’re both going to get us banned from Smith’s.”

“Relax, professor,” Avery teased, hopping off with a dramatic bow. “We’re just adding some spice to your very boring grocery trip.”

“It’s not boring,” Rania said, sliding a box of oatmeal into the cart with clinical precision. “It’s necessary.”

“Which is exactly what makes it boring,” Chelsea chimed in, plucking up a box of cookies and dropping it in.

“That’s not on the list.” Rania held it up like evidence.

Chelsea shrugged. “It is now.”

Evan chuckled under his breath, the sound low, almost private, but enough for Rania to hear. She didn’t look at him, didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Still, he tried again. “So, what’s on the list then? You plan meals ahead?”