Page 25 of Alpha Mates

“I highly doubt it takes much brainpower to fill a cart.” I push past him and grab the closest item to me—a loaf of bread—and dump it in the cart before I turn to face him. “See?”

“Julian!” he hisses with his brows lifting over his shades. “What are you doing? They’re going to kick us out!”

“What?” I grab the bread and shove it back into place, but others come tumbling out. I try to catch them and fix the display while frantically looking around for a guard or other possible attack. “I didn’t know. I-I swear!”

Heavy laughter has my eyes darting back to the fool beside me, the one who’s clutching desperately at his stomach. I sober as my panic withers, replaced swiftly by embarrassment. By the time I’ve shoved the squished loaves back onto their shelf, Aiden is still laughing.

“You are such a little—” I charge like a bull and ram the cart into hisankle.

“Motherfucker!” he howls, hopping away with a barrage of curses.

I run over his foot for good measure. His yelp is like an angel’s song.

“I’ll get you back for that,” he hisses after me while I continue onwards with a satisfied grin.

I watch other shoppers until the workings of this grocery store reveal themselves. I pick food up like them, placing it in my cart, and without the idiot’s help, I manage to get enough food to last me for the next few days.

Aiden trails behind, occasionally tossing things in the cart as if the silent treatment is a punishment. It’s a gift I hope never ends, but then, we enter the snack aisle.

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch!”

Dreams rarely come true.

Aiden snatches one of the large boxes with a bright smile and chucks it into the cart. He’s an excited pup come to life until he looks my way again. “What?”

“I didn’t say a thing,” I reply calmly.

“Do you not like it?” he asks with readied offence. “Or have you never had it?”

“I’ve had the small boxes from the cafeteria,” I say, pushing past him and picking up another box. “But … Lucky Charms are much better.”

I drop the box of my favourite cereal in the cart and continue down the aisle. That should be the end of that, but Aiden races after me, planting himself in front of the cart with a horrified look.

“Take that back.”

“It’s cereal,” I deadpan, but the rapt focus remains.

“You think Lucky Charms are better than Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” he echoes dramatically. “What is wrong with you? Wait, never mind, that was a dumb question. There’s so much.”

“So funny,” I reply dryly.

“I know.” He climbs onto the front of the cart.

I stare at him. “Are you a child?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “Now, onwards!”

I push on, hoping he’ll fall off, but Aiden’s grip remains frustratingly firm. He rides the cart like it’s a chariot, because, well, Aiden is a man-child.

And while I’ve always known that, it’s cemented when he laughs at a child who falls down in front of us. And laughs harder when the kid starts to cry.

So, not only is my mate a man-child, he’s a demented one.

At the payment station, Aiden and I fall into an argument about the right way to pack the bags. He doesn’t understand that the soft items need to beseparate, and I don’t know how to teach common sense, so we eventually come to an agreement to only pack our own items.

When we’re done, the cheery lady behind the machine leans over with a giddy smile. “Can I just say how perfect you two are together?”

I struggle not to throw up in my mouth.