HIS FAVORITE GINGER ✓

TWENTY-SIX.

THE SUPERSTRUCTURE WITH THE SUPERMARKET'S seal inscribed in cursive letters stands straight before the duo as they pull into the parking lot. Well that is after hardcore hustling for space while serving rounds of cussing and screaming at many drivers. As the Winter holidays draw nearer, this place gets crowdy as fuck and you have to struggle to get a parking — even a breathing — space. Even now, and it is just fucking 11:30 in the morning.

Stepping out of the cramped convertible, Gray stretches his limbs as if waking from a year of deep slumber. He rubs my hands together for heat while watching Tatum brush his Givenchy fur coat with his hands covered in equally expensive mittens before locking his Ferrari with the car remote.

Everything about Tatum reflects so much wealth, it is blinding for peasant eyes like Gray's. Well, you can't expect less from the only son of the an airline's proprietor. Don't be surprised he knew this after vigils of unhealthy amount of stalking. When he somehow conjured it out of Kara that Tatum is his crush's ex, he needed to know more about his — hopefully not — potential rival.

"The weather is really cold." Gray face-palms at his miserable attempt to strike a conversation. Still, he needs to keep his haughtiness at bay and at least talk to him. Moreover, he was the one who begged Tatum to do this.

"No thanks for stating the obvious, Captain Sherlock." Tatum states indifferently, chilly air blowing out of his nose and mouth.

Gray unintentionally let out a sneer.

"I hope your wallet is really loaded because as much as he hates overly expensive stuff, cheap shit puts him off."

Of course Gray has his credit card loaded like virgin teenage balls. All his countless — not only night shifts but extra-night — shifts and working tirelessly like an animal is going to worth it. It is for him after all. Gray nods before uppercutting the air with thrill and enthusiasm rushing through his capillaries. "Lets go buy Alejandro a birthday present!" He yells, bouncing into the building while Tatum follows quietly behind, shaking his head.

Typical Christmas-themed mega-mart interior, nothing much except the multitude with hard, focused faces that fill every floor like a swarm of migrating bees — okay maybe he's exaggerating a little. But they are still enough for him to bump into a toddler's giant chocolate lollipop, smearing it all over his jacket.

Oh, how he fuckingly fucking hate fucking chocolate! The fucking smell, the fucking bittersweet taste, the fucking colour. Fucking thinking of it wants to fucking make him fucking fuck his fucking heart out.

Even the hell spawn wearing a giant ass goblin hat starts to wail after staining his jacket with that hell candy. She was the one who fucking bumped into him.

"Grayson, are you alright? Snap out of it!"

He blinks before realizing he basically froze on walking. "What happened?"

"What do you mean 'what happened', you've been glaring at the wall for thirty seconds like you wanna rip it open with your bare hands."

"Oh sorry, I guess I just zoned out." Gray shrugs.

"Nutjob." Tatum hisses underneath his breath.

Don't you sucker-punch him in the face, Gray.

"So which section do we go now?"