Second(7)

My head snaps to Dean, and I catch his wince. He keeps pushing through the aisle, at a faster speed this time.

“Disguise fail,” I mutter under my breath.

“Fuck,” he whispers, turning around and looking behind him as the women start to follow him.

“Do you want to go to the car?” I ask him, quickly ducking behind a display of nappies. “I can finish up here alone.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I have to get the shit I need to cook dinner tonight.”

My eyebrows hit my hairline. “You’re cooking dinner tonight? Will wonders never cease?”

“Well at least the fire in you is back,” he says in a dry tone, glancing up at the nappies stacked in a huge pile. “Great, next they’ll be saying I knocked someone up.”

I glance around. “There’s no paparazzi here, Dean. This isn’t the big city.”

However if those women take a photo, it could be plastered all over social media, which is kind of the same thing. “Or maybe you’re right. What do you want me to do?”

“You gonna save me?” he asks, his smile hitting his green eyes. “There’s nothing we can do, let’s just get what we need and bounce.”

We rush around the store, grabbing everything we think we’ll need. We’re in the ice-cream aisle when the women catch up with us.

“Oh my God, Dean, it is you!” one gushes, closing the space between them and touching his arm. “Can I take a photo with you? I love you and your music so much! Your picture is my phone wallpaper!”

She slides up next to him, like they’ve known each other for years, completely invading his personal space.

Oh wow.

Is this what he has to go through every time he leaves the house? People acting like he’s community property? The other woman, a younger-looking brunette, steps to his other side. “Could I get your signature? My friends aren’t going to believe this….”

Dean looks uncomfortable, and fairly so. I try to step in and save him.

“Listen, ladies,” I say, stepping closer to Dean and slowly nudging them out of the way. “How about a quick photo, but you both need to stay quiet about him being here? His cousin just died and he’s trying to mourn in peace, without everyone knowing his whereabouts.”

Yes, a shitty card to play, but it’s also the truth.

“Who are you?” the older one asks, eyes narrowing.

Great, she probably thinks I’m his new girlfriend and is going to try and fight me or start a hate page on social media or something.

“I’m his lawyer,” I say, smiling evilly. “Any other questions?”

She shakes her head.

I take two photos, and then grab Dean by his bicep and pull him on out of there.

“My lawyer?” he asks, sounding amused. “You dropped out of law school.”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t drop out, I changed my mind and chose a different degree.”

I ended up in business and finance, and now work in a bank. Law just wasn’t for me. Then again, neither is working at a bank, but it pays the bills and then some. We check out in peace and then rush to the car. Dean won’t let me help lift the bags into the back, because apparently he’s a Neanderthal, so I sit in the car waiting for him. He didn’t let me pay, either. I tried, but he won. I don’t like it when he wins. I watch as he puts the trolley away then slides into the driver seat.

“Let’s just order the groceries online next time,” I announce.

Dean throws his head back and laughs.



*****



“Is it always like that?” I ask him as we unpack the food together.

“Worse usually,” he says, shrugging. “I don’t know, I’ve kind of gotten used to it now. It comes with the job, you know?”

“What are you cooking tonight?” I ask, changing the subject. I line up the four bottles of alcohol I bought on the way home, wondering which one we should drink first. Maybe we should just have the red wine with dinner. I find myself looking forward to it, since it’s been so long since I had a good meal.

“Chicken fried rice,” he says casually, his back to me as I pin my gaze on him.

Chicken fried rice is my favourite thing to eat. How did he know that? I guess Tara must have told him. In this moment, I acknowledge just how thoughtful a man Dean really is. The fame hasn’t seemed to change him one bit. He’s obviously as humble as ever, otherwise he wouldn’t be standing in my kitchen, helping me, never mind getting ready to cook me a meal.

“Do you cook often?” I find myself asking, wondering if he’s like this all the time, or if it’s just because he’s worried about me.