10. almond milk.

✖️

"When are you two going to fuck?" the question leaves Ashley's mouth abruptly, giving me no time to swallow the sip of water I took beforehand. I end up choking as it slides down with difficulty, fighting to catch my breath.

"What?" she blinks cluelessly at me.

Wiping at my mouth, I shake my head at her. "You can't say stuff like that,"

"I just asked you a question. I'm curious, sue me,"

"You might as well forget it. Sophie keeps avoiding him," Bailey rolls her eyes, flicking through the magazine on her lap.

I'd called the girls over earlier on today to distract me from the thought of Luke, not to bring it all back. It's kind of obvious that won't happen, though; the topic of the man with the guitar is almost unavoidable with us.

"I'm not avoiding him," I say. All three of them- even Chloe, who looks up from her bush conversation on her phone- raise their eyebrows at me. "Okay, I'm avoiding him."

"I don't see why," Ashley frowns, leaning forward like a mother about to scold her young child over a bad report card. "Your whole account is basically centred around him. What did you expect was going to happen?"

"Not this," I shake my head, and it's true. Never in a million years would I have anticipated Luke stumbling upon my pictures- much less my captions.

"At least you're not in denial anymore, I'll give you that. But he really wants to meet you, Soph." she tells me.

In the background, I hear Chloe and Bailey talking in hushed whispers over a TV programme they've both been obsessed with, and I try to focus on that instead. But I can't, because Ashley's staring at me like I'm in an interrogation room, and Luke still hasn't left my mind from earlier, and my heart feels like a constant deflating balloon in my chest.

"I don't want to meet him," I tell her, truthfully. This earns a shrug and a sigh, and a pat on the shoulder.

"Fifteen year old you would have loved this." she notes.

"Fifteen year old me also would have stanned Luke even if he held a loaded gun to my throat. People change," I say, my voice coated in dry humour. She just chuckles.

"Whatever," Ashley says. Then she leans back, her fingers tapping slowly on the coffee table. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Mhm,"

"You and Luke. You live in the same city. I know LA's big-"

"What if we accidentally meet?" I finish it for her, knowing that if she's about to start beating around the bush, it'll take a while. "Like, run in to each other?"

"On the street, in a café. Just the normal everyday stuff that people do," she tries to act nonchalant, but I can see right through her. "Would you walk away?"

I think about it. I don't give her a solid answer, instead I shake my head and shrug, but it doesn't fail to stick in my mind for the rest of the day.

I replay her Ashley's question over and over in my brain as I push the cart down a grocery aisle, staring absentmindedly at the stuff on the shelves around me.

In front are Dylan and Chase, bickering again, on and on and on about their wedding and how they both want different things. Chase likes roses. Dylan likes daisies. I like being single, but listening to how adorably annoying their conversation sounds kinda makes me wish I wasn't.

"We need these," Chase says. In his hands are two boxes of fake chocolate wholewheat cereal, and as he dumps them in the cart, Dylan raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"What is that?"

"It's cereal,"

"Why are you getting all the healthy shit?"

"What?" Chase repeats.

"Baby, coco puffs exist," Dylan takes the boxes out, shoving them in his fiancé's chest. "Take these back."

"But-"

"I am a carnivore, my dear. Not a herbivore. Chocolate, not mock-olate," Dylan says with a scoff, folding his arms and standing in a serious stance.

I surpress the urge to laugh as Chase puffs his cheeks out, obviously frustrated. "Fine." he says, before taking the cereals and stomping back down the aisle to return them.

Dylan turns to me, rolling his eyes. "Men."

"You're one of them," I remind him, amusement all over my face as we stroll down the aisle of rice and whatever else he dragged me out of bed to help shop for.

He pauses, my statement sinking in. "Gay men."

"Again, Dyl. You're one of them."

"Okay, you know what," Chase's voice interjects our conversation from down the aisle, the two boxes of wholewheat still clutched stubbornly in his hand. He points one of them at Dylan. "We are gonna need to compromise,"

"Bab-"

"I just had a talk with a guy shopping in the milk section, and you know what he told me?" I play boredly with my hands, watching and wating for his miniature rant to be over as Dylan does the same. "He said that couples are supposed to talk things out so that they avoid conflict. And you know what you're doing? Initiating conflict!"

"Dylan, just let him get the cereal," I sigh.

"I'm not letting him get the cereal!"

"Why are you trying to change me?" Chase whines, a little louder than his usual voice.

"Because I don't want mockolate for breakfast!" Dylan exclaims. "Now put those back. Please."

"My father was right about you," Chase grumbles, childishly sliding the cereal into a shelf that it doesn't belong in.

"Wow. You're gonna play that card?" the other man asks, clearly offended.

"Mhm. I will play it for as long as I need to, cereal-killer."

"You guys are incredible," I mumble, pushing the cart as they continue their endless bickering. I'd interject, but it's actually quite entertaining.

Affer we finish getting everything we need, we line up, waiting patiently for the people in front of us to pay. I look like a bored child waiting for my parents as Chase does most of the work, Dylan handling the bagging.

"You adopted?" the cashier asks me, raising an eyebrow at the two men threatening to suffocate each other with the plastic. I smile slightly, shaking my head.

"Nah. Just their neighbour,"

"And our daughter," Chase blows a kiss at me, puckering his lips in a comedic manner. Dylan just grabs the imaginary gesture and flicks it out of the way.

"Stop it, you're embarrassing our spawn."

Much like I am, the cashier is unamused. The only difference is I try to hide it; she rolls her eyes.

"Goddamnit," Chase then says, frowning as the cart begins to empty.

"What?"

"I forgot the milk."

"I thought you went to the milk aisle?"

"I did, but only to find allies to help me convince Dylan to let me get the cereal," he says. I sigh, pushing myself off of the wall. "I completely forgot about it. Can you go get some before he finds out and snaps my neck?"

"That's a little violent," I say, though I've already started walking. "What do you want?"

"The vegan one."

"Almond?"

"Is that vegan?"

That's the last I hear of Chase as I turn the corner, reading the signs above each aisle to get to the right one.

Thankfully, it doesn't take me long at all. I spot the milk, sighing once I see it on the top shelf, and attempt to reach for it- only to fail miserably.

"Need some help there?" a deep voice behind me asks.

"No. I need some extra height," I mumble, not in the mood for either Chase or Dylan's taunting tones.

They chuckle lowly. "Afraid I can't give you that," I hear the sound of a basket being placed on the floor. "What do you want?"

"Longer legs."

"Milk-wise," they say. I stop attempting to reach for the bottle then, instead stepping back without turning around. I've had both guys poke fun at my height before; I don't need it in the middle of a crowded supermarket.

"Soy? Half and half? Semi-skimmed," I look down at my phone, eyes narrowing at the text from Dylan asking me where I've gone. "Strawberry if you're feeling sweet."

"Almond, please." I say, slowly typing a messae back. Out of the corner of my eye I see a hand, a load of bracelets sliding down a wrist, and a carton of chocolate milk as well as almond.

"Here you go," upon looking back up, my eyes lock with Ashton Irwin's, and my stomach does a flip similar to the first time around. His wide smile makes me freeze momentarily before I take the milk from him, mouth falling open.

"Uhm," I begin, fingers wrapping around it as I attempt to clear my throat. "Uh, thank you."

"Hey, aren't you the girl from the diner?" he asks me, bending over to pick his basket back up. I nod, suddenly bashful and all the more speechless.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

"No, not really," I say, biting my lip. "And I'm sorry for being snappy. I thought you were someone else,"

"It's fine," Ashton smiles, before his phone rings and he apologetically excuses himself from the conversation to answer it.

"Sorry," he mouthes. I mouthe back an 'it's alright'.

"Hello? Yeah... yeah, I've got the milk... no, it's low fat... is that all you want? Dude, protein powder isn't food... Jesus, you sound like a gymshark... I'm in the fridge section, where else? Aisle seven... alright, alright..." Ashton holds a finger up, indicating that he'll be done soon.

"Okay, I get it..." Ashton chuckles, shaking his head, his mop of curly hair bouncing from side to side. I stare at it, wondering how he manages to get it so fluffy when I hear,

"I'll see you in a bit, Luke."

✖️