Glitch (Next Level #1)(14)

He leans against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets again as I lock up. “That dress is phenomenal on you, Ara.”

I bite my lip to keep from squealing. I seriously have no chill. “Where to?”

“You’ll see.”

I follow Glitch to his car, and he opens the door for me while simultaneously looking around the parking lot. I swear he’s searching for predators. Even after he shuts my door, he’s still looking around like he expects trouble. This complex is old and crappy, but affordable. The outside’s a little creepy, but my apartment is great. Okay, not great, but decent. It’s enough for me.

“Buckled up?” he asks, dropping into the driver’s seat.

Yes, Daddy. “Yeah.”

“Sorry,” he lightly chuckles. “I uhhhh… I’m used to having a kid in the car with me. I say shit out of habit.”

He has a kid? “How old are they?”

“He’s nine.” Glitch freezes. “It’s my nephew. Not my kid. I don’t have any kids.”

I’m not sure how to respond. “Cool.” Cool. COOL? Christ on a cracker! I need a lesson on how to be sexier.

Starting the engine, he grinds his molars, which only flexes his jaw muscles.

Because of course he has a sharp jaw line too.

And don’t get me going on his forearms or how hot he looks backing out of the parking spot, spinning the wheel with the heel of his palm.

Wow, Ara. Doesn’t take much to make you swoon. I have got to get laid. I swear everything I see my brain makes sexual.

To my surprise, we pull up to a grocery store. Glitch cuts the engine and slaps my thigh. “Come on.”

I love that we keep finding ways to touch each other. It’s more him than me. He grabs a cart and heads for the produce aisle first. “Apples?”

Love them. “Yeah. Ummm. Are we seriously grocery shopping on our first date?”

He flashes another killer grin. “We’re preparing for our first date.”

“Fuji, gala, and honeycrisp.”

He bags three of each. “Grapes?”

“Red,” I say, then watch him put green and red in the cart.

“Ohhhh, strawberries.” He grabs a couple of boxes and heads to the veggies for some carrots. We joke and make our way down each aisle. I end up pushing the cart because I need something to keep my body busy. Glitch walks beside me sometimes, and behind me, others. We work our way through the entire store until the cart is filled.

“This is a lot for one dinner.”

He just smiles, placing everything on the conveyer belt in a meticulous way. He must catch the expression on my face because he says, “I used to be a bagger when I was in high school. There’s a method to this.”

I don’t doubt it. “You seem like someone who has a method to everything.”

He winks, and I want to squeal again.

The chemistry between us is wild. Like we’ve been together forever, but it’s also brand new and exciting. He’s easy to be around. And his confidence is wonderful. Comfortable.

I slap a baguette on top of the frozen pizza. He grabs it, but I don’t let go of my end. We glower playfully, and I realize I want to mess with him. I like the fiery look in his eyes when I do.

He leans into me and growls, “Brat.”

He knew that about me already. I never hold my tongue when we play online, and it’s time I learn to not hold back in all aspects of my life. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

He drags his eyes down my body. “Fuck around and find out.”

I’m on fire.

Glitch hovers his phone over the scanner, paying for the food before I can even get my credit card out. We’ve bought a ton of groceries, and I know it’s not all for tonight’s dinner date. No one can eat five pizzas, six apples, four pounds of chicken, ramen, oatmeal, a variety of fruit, and a two-pound bag of skittles in one night.

I keep my mouth shut and smile at the cashier when she hands me the receipt. Glitch snags it from me before I catch the total, and the computer’s already back to the home screen, so I can’t see it there either. Damnit.

“So, how long have you lived here?”

“My whole life,” he says. We yip-yap all the way back to my apartment. He’s easy to talk to. It’s like we’ve been friends for forever.

Finally home, Glitch makes it his goal to hook every bag around his arms because he refuses to make more than one trip, or let me help. I lead the way, hold the lobby door open, and then rush up the steps to beat him to my apartment. I unlock fast and he blazes in, bags strung around both arms and two more dangling from his fingers.

“Here, let me take some.”

He growls playfully and sweeps past me to put them on the counter. “Phew.” He stretches his arms over his head. The act makes his shirt ride up enough for me to catch a glimpse of more ink on his abs. “I didn’t think I was going to win that one.”

“Milk almost got you?”

“The bread,” he corrects. “I nearly crushed the baguette coming up the second flight of steps.”

We start laughing, and I pull out the chicken. “What are we making with this?” I hadn’t asked earlier.

“Whatever you want. That’s for later this week.”

I freeze. Then I take a real good look at this food. “You bought me groceries for the week.” I’m not mad. I’m mortified.