Snow in August

Chapter One

  Eggs, where are the eggs? And... Simon glanced down at the list, hot pockets. He knew exactly where those were. And eventually he found the eggs too. He hauled the little basket of groceries to checkout.
"Agatha, what's up?" He smiled, glancing up at her as he placed the items on the conveyor belt.
"Not much, Simon. Waiting to die in this lifeless hell we call Tesco," she answered with a quiet laugh. "Debit, right?" Simon nodded and swiped the card.
"Alright call me if you feel death approaching."
"I promise you I won't." They shared a small laugh and Simon waited for the old automatic doors to open.
   The sunlight hit his skin immediately, as did the humid air. He lugged the two bags of groceries along, the search for his car quickly becoming a sad and desperate event. He turned his head to find a very attractive man doing the same. They locked eyes from across the parking lot. The man mouthed something, white chowder? Then Simon gracefully walked into a pole. Aha, watch out. The man covered a loud laugh with his hand and entered his car without looking back.
"What a great first impression there, Simon, you absolute doorknob," Simon muttered to himself, finally catching sight of his car. He rubbed a hot cheek against his shoulder and walked forward with a slight limp.
   The car was hotter than Grocery Guy. (That was his new name.) It smelled like hot leather and weed, a good combination, suffocating. Simon tossed the bags in the passenger seat, forgetting immediately about the eggs he'd bought, and drove off towards his flat.
   As he drove down Main Street he spotted a woman and a little girl sitting on the curb. The girl was looking back sadly at the diner they sat in front of. Simon recognized the scared, lost expression on the woman's face and knew immediately they had recently become homeless.
   Simon knew all the homeless people that lived in his town and always helped them out, knowing how hard it could be. He lived the first eighteen years of his life getting dragged through the foster system, never having a home and never being able to escape.
   He pulled over and grabbed food from the grocery bags. The hot pockets emerged, as well as a bag of granola. He got out and knelt in front of the woman.
"Hi, my name is Simon. I noticed you're struggling a little and I was wondering if you'd be interested in taking my granola." He smiled.
"There is a God. Thank you." The woman looked close to tears and gingerly took the bag.
"I'll be right back with my favorite dish of all time." Simon grinned and ran up the diner stairs.
   With some begging and persuading, Simon was able to use their microwave. (And he may have stolen a plate as well.) He headed back outside and handed the glorious pizza rolls to the now very emotional woman.
"How can I ever repay you?" The woman watched her daughter practically inhaling handfuls of granola.
"Telling me your name would be enough."
"Gloria. A-and this is my daughter, Erica." Simon shook hands with both of them.
"Listen, if you ever get in any trouble with anyone call me here-" he handed Gloria a piece of paper with his number- "and I'll always be there to help you, ok?" They exchanged smiles and goodbyes before Simon got back in his car and went to park closer to his apartment.
"Home, but at what cost?" Simon muttered jokingly to himself as he shut and locked the door. "Tired, hot pocketless. Tsk tsk."  If anyone heard me right now they'd think- "I'm an absolute idiot."
   He scratched his head, jumping when he discovered how bad it hurt. He went up to a mirror and pushed his hair back to reveal a huge bump.
"Complete dumbass." He winced at it. "That's what happens when you walk into a pole," he shrugged.
   Simon exited the bathroom and changed into just his boxers and a clean t-shirt. He ordered pizza, despite having just gotten back from the store, and started cleaning up his flat to waste time.
   The sun had started to set as Simon trudged tiredly over to the drawer in his side table, collecting a small joint and matches. Inhaling that smoke, feeling it burn in his throat, was so damn calming. He traveled back towards his couch, grabbing the half-empty bottle of vodka from the freezer on his way.
   At some point Simon fell asleep, which is easy to do after smoking a whole joint. The knock on the door startled him awake. He sat up, wiping the drool off his face and placing the vodka bottle down. The door knocked again and Simon suddenly remembered his pizza. He quickly went to open the door, money in hand, and was quite surprised to find-
"Grocery Guy! Holy shit what are the odds?" Simon grinned taking the pizza box out of Grocery Guy's hands.  "Do I know you?" The guy shifted his weight to one leg, waiting for his money.
"Yeah um..." Simon placed the pizza next to his vodka. "I walked into a pole at Tesco like four hours ago." Grocery Guy laughed.
"Oh that was you? That makes complete sense. My name's Baz." Baz smirked, holding out his hand. Simon shook it, looking straight into his eyes. "The money?"
"Right! Um, can I repay you with a bit of your own product?" Simon, suddenly realizing he had no pockets in his underwear, tossed the money behind the door.
"I really shouldn't." Baz let go of Simon's hand and took a step back into the hallway.
"It's late... late enough—you must be hungry, tired. I'm broke. It's a win-win situation, my friend." Simon raised his arms, gesturing to his fabulous living space. (It was big enough for approximately one and a half Simons.)
"You are my last delivery..." Baz entered the flat, earning an obnoxiously loud cheer from Simon.  Baz looked Simon up and down with a red face.
"What's your name? I've been referring to you as Dumbass all day to my friends."
"I didn't peg you as the 'friends' type."
"You got me, I'm not. You're not my last delivery either, but I'll just get another job." They wandered over to the couch and Simon opened the pizza box.
"Simon Snow," he stated, looking back at Baz's face. It was all sharp—nose, cheekbones, chin—and so pale he was almost blue. But it made his crazy grey eyes stand out beautifully. Simon swallowed thickly. "Vodka?"
"Fuck it, yeah sure." Baz sat and took the bottle.
"Y'know, stranger danger is real," Simon joked, grabbing a slice of pizza.
"Well are you going to rape and/or murder me?" Baz took a long swig before putting the bottle back down.
"No, but how do you know I'm not lying?"
"Too pretty." He took a slice.
"Most serial killers are very charming." Simon realized this was the weirdest flirting he'd ever been a part of.
"Well then maybe I'm going to die tonight. Fuck. It."
   Simon grinned and went to put Netflix on. It didn't matter what show he played because he was looking at Baz the entire time. He noticed Baz's nose was crooked, as were his bottom teeth. His hair was about shoulder length and it never stayed behind his ears. Baz didn't smile, he smirked and it made Simon crazy.
   The show ended, the pizza was eaten, and the vodka bottle was near empty. Simon moved slightly closer to Baz.