Chapter 168: You’d Look Cuter in Mine[June’s POV]
The drive was quiet at first. Not awkward, just... soft.
The kind of quiet where you notice little things....the low hum of the engine, the way the city lights streaked across his face when we passed under them.
The way his fingers kept tapping against the wheel like he was keeping time with his own thoughts.
I cleared my throat. "So... do you always kidnap girls and drag them to late-night store runs?"
Ian smirked without looking at me. "Only the ones who look good under fluorescent lighting."
I whipped my head toward him. "That’s the weakest line I’ve ever heard. Congratulations."
He finally looked at me. "Weak? Please. You’ll think about it when we walk into that store and I’m proven right."
I groaned, slumping back in my seat.
I opened my mouth to clap back, but the parking lot lights hit us as we pulled into the supermarket, and suddenly the world felt too bright for how messy my head was.
When we pulled into the parking lot, he got out first and came around to open my door. It caught me off guard. "You don’t have to do that," I said, blinking up at him.
"I know," he said simply, holding it open anyway.
The warmth in my face was ridiculous, so I muttered a quick "thanks" and walked ahead before he could see me blush.
"Remember the last time we came here?" Ian said, smirking like he already knew how I was going to react.
I slapped a hand over my face, and groaned instantly. "Oh my god. Don’t. Literally don’t bring that up. I don’t want to remember that. I’ve deleted it from my brain."
Except... I hadn’t. My brain immediately pulled up the memory. The day I got my period in his stupid car, and he drove me here to grab pads and clean up.
Worst day ever.
He laughed, way too entertained. "That wasn’t even bad. It’s totally normal."
"Normal?!" I shot him a glare.
"You know what was embarrassing? You crying in the restroom like a baby."
"I did not," I snapped, even though... okay maybe I did. A little.
He reached over and patted my head. "Relax Juney. You don’t have to cry about your period anymore. I’ll take care of you from now on."
I shot him a glare. "Ew. Gross. That’s ugh...that’s so cringe."
"Cringe?" he repeated, smirking harder. "Or romantic?"
I rolled my eyes. "You sound like a tampon commercial."
He grinned. "Yeah, but admit it... you’re low-key touched."
"Touched in the brain for even hanging out with you," I muttered, even though my smile was already betraying me.
By the time we walked into the store, I hated how warm my face felt.
The store was way too bright.
Workers were stocking shelves, the overhead speakers playing some tragic love song from the 2000s.
My sneakers squeaked against the tile as I grabbed a basket.
"Okay," I muttered to myself. "Toothbrush, face wash, pajamas, undies..."
Before I could finish, Ian took the basket right out of my hands.
I frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Being a gentleman." "You’re literally the least gentleman guy I know." He smirked. "And yet, basket’s in my hand. Look at me...husband material."
I laughed before I could stop myself, covering it with a cough. "Please. If you’re husband material, I’m the Virgin Mary."
He leaned closer as we walked past the snack aisle. "Pretty sure the Virgin Mary didn’t look at guys the way you just looked at me in the car."
I froze, heat rushing to my cheeks. "I did not..."
I shoved a family-sized bag of Cheetos into the basket just to shut him up.
He leaned down slightly. "Get whatever you want. I’ve got a black card. Whole store if you feel like it."
I snapped my head around so fast. "Ew. Do not say that like you’re auditioning to be my Sugar Daddy."
"I don’t have to audition, I’ve got the role." He just grinned wider, totally unbothered.
Next, I grabbed a face wash and moisturizer, tossing them into the basket.
Ian immediately fished them out, turning the bottles in his hands like he was studying a foreign language. "This is like... what? A five-step plan?"
"Yes," I said flatly, snatching them back. "Some of us actually care about our faces. Just because you probably wash yours with whatever body soap’s in the shower doesn’t mean I should ruin my skin too."
He laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Wow. That’s not nice. Well, you’re not wrong."
I rolled my eyes and reached for a toner. He glanced at the price tag, whistled low, then dramatically dropped it back on the shelf. "This costs more than my sneakers."
But before I could grab it again, he picked the bottle back up and tossed it into the basket like it was nothing. "You shouldn’t care about the money, Juney. If you want it, you get it. That’s it."
Like, who just drops forty dollar skincare into a cart like it’s a pack of gum? My brain immediately spiraled....how much did he even spend without thinking? Why would he do that for me?
Stop it, June. It’s moisturizer, not a marriage proposal.
Still, my hands itched to put it back.
I froze for half a second, staring at him.
The way he said it so casually, like it wasn’t even about the skincare anymore, made my stomach flip.
By the time we got to the pajama section, my basket was half-full with random stuff...toothpaste, hair tie packs, snacks I absolutely didn’t need but he got them anyway.
I stopped at a rack of pajama sets, holding one up. It was stupidly soft, light pink, and had little strawberries printed all over.
Ian stared at it, then at me, and broke into a laugh. "There is no way. You? In that? You’d look like a cartoon character."
Heat crawled up my neck. "What’s wrong with strawberries? They’re cute."
He tilted his head, still grinning. "You’d look cuter in mine."
I actually pictured it....me drowning in one of his oversized tees, sleeves brushing my hands, him smirking at me.
I dropped the set back on the rack. "You’re not funny."
"Didn’t say I was joking." His voice dropped low, and I hated the way my stomach flipped.
"Anyway!" I grabbed a plain pink set just to shut him up and tossed it into the cart.
We rolled into the snack aisle, and I went straight for the Cheetos. He grabbed a family-size bag of Oreos.
"Really?" I said. "Oreos?"
"Don’t judge me," he said. "Oreos heal grief. It’s science fact."
Without thinking, he threw an extra pack into the cart. "One for you, one for me."