Moved by K.M. Liss Read Free Book Online Page B

a
real nasty bastard at times.”
    “No... Just
practical.”
    “Well, if we're being 'practical' all of a sudden , perhaps you can pack the
cigarettes up. It's expensive, unhealthy, and it stinks. Maybe
you'd feel fitter and stronger and more able to lift my extra flake
if you quit, hmm?”
    “I'm fit and strong
enough. My few smokes don't make any difference.”
    “Maybe you should ask
Jackson for some tips. Get some muscles. You could do with some
more bulk,” I suggest, unpleasantly...
    “I'm a dancer, not
Arnold fucking Schwarzenegger. My muscle mass is fine.”
    “Want me to help you
pack?” The checkout girl says, eyeing us up warily with a little
smile on her lips. She's obviously listening to our conversation
and loving it. It's probably going to be the highlight of her
day.
    “S'OK... I'm on it...”
Mason replies quickly, walking to the end to start packing.
    I follow him with the
trolley, pushing him out of the way.
    “So what you're really
saying is I'm bordering on the chubby size? One little bit of
chocolate, that's all... Well fuck you.”
    “Kaydee, you're so
defensive at times. Chill. Out. Yu're beautiful. The perfect size
woman and dancer. Oh, have the fucking choccy bar for God's
sake...” He starts packing with a vengeance. My head swims...
    He's said it again.
That I'm beautiful. And he's sober this time.
    Suddenly, I don't want
it anymore. The fattening bar of chocolate. I want to stay
beautiful and perfect. Because that's what I am, apparently. In his
eyes, anyway.
    I turn around and
return to the conveyor end of the checkout and put the chocolate
back on the display shelf.
    The checkout girl tuts
at me noisily and rolls her eyes. I glare back at her. So what if
I'm a pushover. She looks like she could do with giving up
chocolate herself.
    He smiles widely at
me, his eyes crinkling. My stomach flips 360 degrees. Twice.
    “You can have a nice
healthy banana on the way home instead,” he says. “Then I'm going
to make you your favourite chicken Caesar salad.”
    “Mmmm...I do love
that. Am I allowed to have some crunchy croutons on top?”
    “Yep... I've got baked
ones... fat free, and low calorie dressing,” he announces
with a self satisfied grin.
    I stare, transfixed.
My beating heart trying to escape my chest.
    He's so lovely at
times, I really could eat him. Stuff the salad. Just fill my mouth
with Mason. There's one part I'd particularly like to nibble
at.
    Then I remember. He's
not mine to eat.
    I just can't bear the
thought of him being with her. Doing those kinds of things.
Hopefully Jackson will distract me enough to cope with it, while it
lasts. Maybe things will change when I see my gorgeous guy again.
They'd better, or else I'm up emotional shit street; well and
truly.
    As if thinking about
her has pressed a magic Sandy button, my phone rings, Big Ben
clanging loud and clear in my bag. Mason gives me an evil look as I
answer it, abandoning the grocery packing.
    “It's Sandy... keen to
reveal all the gooey details, I guess,” I taunt.
    He grimaces and I
snigger to myself.
    I wander over to the
seats, further along, out of his earshot, before answering her.
    “Hi...”
    “Sorry I took a while,
I had a queue...”
    “So, you scored I
hear.”
    “What's he been
saying?” There was a strange tone to her voice.
    “Nothing, his lips are
sealed tighter than Scrooge's safe. He did suggest it was more than
once. That was all I could drag out of him.”
    She laughed. A brittle
kind of laugh.
    “What's up? Didn't he
set you on fire after all?” I ask, confused, but at the same time
growing hopeful it might already be the end, before it really
started.
    “It's not that he
didn't... but the whole thing wasn't how I imagined it would be. I
took him upstairs with a bottle of scotch. He was kinda down.
Talking about you two, and really pissed off. We sat on the bed and
talked and drank, just a couple of sips each. Then I pushed it, I
sat on his lap and kissed him. He wasn't