He watched the two of them converse for a bit and went through a few mental calculations in regards to slipping out unnoticed. Were the temperature not sweltering, he may have tried to wait it out until Avi had moved on.

Slamming the back of his head against the headrest, he closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, which had already begun to accumulate beads of sweat. Nearly 30 years on this planet and he still hadn’t gotten the hang of being anything less than terrified of basic social interaction.

It wasn’t even as though Avi was intimidating, other than the fact that he’d traveled the world, held countless titles across the globe, and was accomplished in other ways that Mitch could hardly dream to be. They hadn’t talked much yet, despite living under the same roof for the past few days, but the guy was certainly affable and there wasn’t any sane reason to not go up to him and say ‘hi’.

Mitch inhaled, then exhaled, reminded himself to not be shitty, then left the safe haven of the car. Since the discussion was still going on, Jodie animated as usual and Avi smiling and nodding along -his teeth surprisingly white and even, odd for a wrestler, maybe they were fake?-, there was a chance he’d go unnoticed.

But then a cheerful “Hey man” from Avi dashed those hopes entirely, and Mitch swallowed hard.

“Oh, hi,” he forced himself to make eye contact and willed the corners of his mouth upwards, anything to appear normal, thoughts screaming the entire time ‘don’t be shitty don’t be shitty don’t be shitty’. The very seconds were counted, and once several had passed, he turned to Jodie and said, “Pop the trunk?”

“Huh?” Her eyebrows knit, and the horribly deranged expression from the pleasure she was getting out of Mitch’s discomfort was now gone. “Oh, right.”

“Thanks,” he muttered as she hit the button on her key, and the door lifted up. A few bag handles were grabbed, and he instinctively recoiled when a hand gently brushed against his sleeve.

“Want some help with those?” came Avi’s voice from behind him. Before Mitch could decline the offer, -he wasn’t an invalid, after all- Jodie answered on his behalf.

“That’d be great!” She chimed in, and Mitch deflated a little.

“Yeah, thanks,” he mustered as much sincerity as possible, agitated with himself for taking everything so personally. Judging by the light elbow to the ribs from Jodie when Avi’s back was turned, he wasn’t the only one.

“You’re being a bitch,” she growled in Mitch’s ear.

“Yeah, I know,” Mitch whispered back. “I’m sorry.”

“OK well…don’t,” she firmly suggested, and he nodded while pushing back the temptation to explain his headspace; it’d be further lamenting, which would only prove her point. And really, who wanted to participate in an extended pity party?

He was so sick of his own shit.

Instead, he broke away from Jodie and hurried to catch up to Avi, who was already holding open the front door.

“After you,” Avi gestured.

“Uh, you didn’t have to do that,” Mitch paused before stepping through the doorway. His gaze flicked downward out of instinct, and he caught sight of several tote bags that definitely didn’t belong to Jodie among the few he’d grabbed from her trunk.

“It’s called manners, Mitch. Get some,” Jodie quipped as she brushed past them both.

“I have some! And look who’s talking, baby girl!” Mitch indignantly snapped back and looked helplessly at Avi, who appeared to be struggling with not cracking up. “I promise, I totally have manners. Thank you for getting the door and the groceries. And dealing with…all of this.”

“You’re very welcome,” grinned Avi, and Mitch couldn’t help but to mirror the expression back, unaware that he was even doing it to begin with until Avi had stepped inside. Something about the guy was undeniably magnetic; it was a small wonder that he’d been in demand across the globe. Maybe one day, Mitch thought, he could get over himself and unlock that secret for his own benefit.