“Figured the party tonight would undo all the pleasant scents I’ve managed to bring in over the last month.”
“You’re not wrong. There’s a very specific odor that hangs around the next day. We could bottle it as Bud Light & Debauchery.”
“So four candles, then,” she said, piling them into her arms. But she only held them long enough to make the joke before she was putting them back down.
I noted that the bag on her arm was large, but mostly empty — like she was being very careful with what she purchased. After our conversation about her family the other night, I understood why. I didn’t imagine she made much as a tattoo apprentice.
It was hard for me to wrap my head around, already working and having the responsibility of bills the way she did. My tuition was covered from my football scholarship, and Mom and Dad easily picked up the rest — including giving me an allowance every month for food, shopping, going out, or whatever else I could want.
I didn’t know what it was like to struggle, to have to think twice before I bought something at the grocery store.
I made a mental note of the scents she had picked up before falling into step with her as she thanked the vendor and stepped out of the booth.
“So, you’re not ignoring me anymore, I see.”
Her brow arched, but she didn’t bother looking at me as she said, “To ignore you, I’d have to actually think about you.”
“Ouch,” I said, covering my heart with a palm. The little smile that found her lips brought me more relief than it should have.
“You smell, by the way,” she added with a wrinkled nose, assessing the sweat making my shirt stick to my chest. “I thought you didn’t have practice today.”
“Pee Wee.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I coach Little League,” I said with a laugh. “Well, I help coach — kind of like an assistant.”
Mary frowned a bit, like she didn’t quite believe me. “So, you just voluntarily give up more of your summer time to coach football to little kids?”
“I see I’ve surprised you again.”
She wouldn’t admit it, but I saw that I had in how she pressed her lips together against a smile. She turned away from me and toward a booth we were passing, and I tried not to care that she couldn’t possibly believe I’d do something like volunteer.
“How many people do you think will come tonight?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Hard to say. It’s summer semester, so not as many people as we have in the fall, that’s for sure. But with it being the holiday, and given that we have a rager every year… it’ll probably be a good turnout.”
She nodded, pausing for a moment to look at a booth selling custom cutting boards.
“We don’t have to have the party tonight,” I said when we started walking again. “If it would make you uncomfortable to have all those people in your space.”
“It’s your house,” she reminded me. “I’m shocked you haven’t had a party before this.”
“We usually would have, but…”
“Ugh, that makes me feel worse.”
I nudged her elbow. “Don’t. The truth is probably more that Kyle and Braden like to hang out with you and don’t want to share with the rest of the team or anyone else.”
I left myself out of the equation, but hoped she saw when she gave me a look that said brown-noser that I meant me, too.
“I’m sure it’ll be fun.”
“Do you drink?” I asked.
“That’s a very forward question.”
“I just haven’t seen you in all the time you’ve lived with us.”
She shrugged, fanning herself with one hand. I noted the bead of sweat gathering on her neck, wondered when it would start its descent along the ink that disappeared between her breasts. “It’s not really my preference. I’ll have wine with the girls sometimes, or a good cocktail, but I much prefer my buzz to be of the herbal variety.”
Mary cocked a brow at me like she wasn’t sure I’d catch the reference.
“Ah, how fitting. Mary loves the Mary J.”
We ducked inside another booth with her smirking at me.
This one had free samples of different dips made from the spice packets they were selling. They sold it with direction to just add sour cream or mayonnaise. I tested a spicy red pepper one while Mary dipped a pretzel into a sour cream and ranch. She closed her eyes on a hum that reminded me of when she had my tostones, and I was almost jealous of the older gentleman who lit up behind the sample table.
“Good, right?” he asked.
“So good.” Mary grabbed another pretzel and tried a dill one next. “How much are they?”
“Three packs for ten dollars,” he said. “And just add to whatever base you want — mayo, sour cream, even Greek yogurt works.”
I saw the hesitation in Mary as she reached for her wallet.
“You know what, we should get some of these for the party tonight,” I said, fishing mine out of my back pocket before she could. I handed the man a twenty-dollar bill. “We’ll take six.”
Mary gaped at the transaction as if I’d just bought her a car.
The man grinned as he bagged up our choices, and when we fell back in line with the other people wandering the market, Mary slapped me hard across the shoulder.
“Ouch!” I rubbed the spot. “What the hell was that for?”
“For acting like I’m some sort of charity case.”
“I was just being nice.”
“Yeah, well, it’s weird and I don’t like it. So stop.”
I chuckled, and then as the crowd started to thin where we were walking, I noticed she was on the side of the path closest to the street. I slowed my step until she passed a little in front of me before I came around the back of her and she had no choice but to scoot over closer to the tents and have me between her and the street, instead.
She gave me a look. “What was that for?”
“What?”
She wiggled her finger between us. “Whatever that little dance just was.”
I shrugged. “You haven’t heard of the sidewalk rule?”
“The what?”
“You know, the guy always walks on the side closest to the street.”
Mary stopped walking at that, and when I turned, she pegged me with a bored expression before she blinked slowly like I was stupid.
“You’re kidding, right?”
I pressed a hand to my chest. “I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”
Her face warped with the restraint of holding back a laugh, and then she started walking again. “Please. As if your body would stop a car from plowing over me.”
“It might,” I said, puffing my chest a little. I smirked down at her over the top of my sunglasses. “You don’t see what I do in the weight room.”
She poked my side hard enough to deflate me and then smiled in victory when it worked, skipping a few steps ahead.
“You wanna be chivalrous?” she asked, spinning to face me as she continued walking backward. Her ponytail swung with the motion, and something tightened in my chest at the sight of her so light and carefree. “Go to a women’s march. Vote for a female to take office. Read a book on feminism. Stop using pussy as an insult.”