Saturday afternoons were supposed to be peaceful. Laundry, errands, maybe a nap. For Jamie, this particular Saturday was chaos—mostly because Taylor had insisted on tagging along for groceries.
"I'm a great shopping buddy," Taylor had declared as they strutted through the automatic doors of the supermarket. "I keep you from buying boring stuff."
Jamie pushed the cart with a sigh. "Boring stuff keeps us alive."
"Alive but joyless." Taylor plucked a family-size bag of neon-colored gummy worms off the shelf and dropped it in the cart. "You're welcome."
Jamie pulled it back out. "We don't need this."
Taylor shoved it right back in. "Correction: you don't need it. I need it."
They bickered their way down the snack aisle, Jamie trying to maintain some sense of order, Taylor tossing in ridiculous items like off-brand cereal with a cartoon octopus on the box. Jamie caught themselves smiling despite the frustration. It was always like this—loud, stupid, comfortable.
But then it happened.
At the checkout line, the cashier—a young guy with floppy brown hair and a too-bright smile—looked up, met Jamie's eyes, and lingered.
"Hey," the cashier said, voice warm in a way that made Jamie's stomach flip unexpectedly. "Do you have our loyalty card?"
Jamie fumbled in their wallet. "Uh…yeah, somewhere…"
Taylor's eyes narrowed. "It's in the side pocket," they muttered, already fishing it out for Jamie like they'd memorized the contents.
The cashier smiled again, this time directly at Jamie. "Thanks. I see you're getting good coffee beans. You must have great taste."
Jamie blinked. Were they…flirting?
Taylor's jaw clenched so tight Jamie could practically hear it grind. "They buy whatever's on sale," Taylor cut in, tossing a pack of gum on the conveyor belt with unnecessary force.
The cashier chuckled awkwardly, scanning items. "Well, still good choices."
Jamie wanted to melt into the floor. They grabbed the grocery bags and bolted for the exit.
Outside, Taylor was practically radiating energy, stomping toward the car.
Jamie hustled after them. "Okay, what was that?"
"What was what?" Taylor asked, voice sharp.
"That…thing. With the cashier."
Taylor popped the trunk open and started loading bags with more aggression than necessary. "I don't like him."
Jamie stared. "You don't even know him."
"Didn't need to. He was—smirking. All smirky. It was gross."
Jamie folded their arms. "He was being nice."
"He was being flirty," Taylor shot back, slamming a bag of oranges into the trunk.
Jamie's chest tightened. "So what if he was?"
Taylor froze, oranges in hand. For a second, their expression softened—then they rolled their eyes and forced a laugh. "So nothing. Just saying. You deserve better than a guy who hits on you while scanning frozen peas."
Jamie snorted despite themselves. "That's your argument? He can't flirt because of frozen peas?"
"Exactly." Taylor shut the trunk with a dramatic flourish. "Romance is dead if it happens next to a barcode scanner."
Jamie shook their head, climbing into the car. Their hearts were still racing, though, and not because of the cashier. Because Taylor's voice had carried something under the sarcasm—something sharp and possessive.
---
Back at Jamie's apartment, the tension lingered. Taylor sprawled on the couch, scrolling on their phone, while Jamie unpacked groceries in pointed silence.
Finally, Jamie said, "You were jealous."
Taylor sat up. "What? No. Please. I don't do jealous."
"You glared at the cashier like he kicked your puppy."
Taylor scoffed. "I was protecting you."
"From what? A loyalty card pitch?"
"From bad flirting."
Jamie rolled their eyes but couldn't help grinning. "You're ridiculous."
Taylor leaned back, smug. "Ridiculous and effective. You didn't give him your number, did you?"
Jamie froze mid–coffee bean pour. "Why would I?"
Taylor's smirk faltered, just a little. "…No reason."
For a moment, the room went quiet except for the rustle of grocery bags. Jamie's chest felt tight again, but this time in a way that was almost unbearable.
Finally, they cleared their throat. "You know, you really don't get to police who flirts with me."
Taylor stretched out on the couch again, arms behind their head. "Not policing. Just…commenting."
Jamie narrowed their eyes. "You're lucky I don't call you out for flirting with every barista in town."
Taylor's grin returned instantly. "Jealous, much?"
Jamie's cheeks burned. "Absolutely not."
"Sure." Taylor wiggled their eyebrows. "It's okay if you were. I'd find it cute."
Jamie hurled a bag of chips at their face. Taylor caught it, laughing, and tore it open like they'd won the argument.
But Jamie sat at the counter, staring into the half-unpacked groceries, heart pounding too loud.
Because maybe they had been jealous once or twice. And maybe Taylor's overreaction at the store hadn't been as meaningless as they pretended.