Jamie had always thought grocery shopping was a simple, mundane task. Today, they were beginning to reconsider that theory.
It all started when Taylor insisted on "helping" them pick out ingredients for dinner. Jamie had tried to protest, citing last week's café and park incidents as evidence that Taylor was everywhere. But Taylor had that grin—the one that made it impossible to resist—and suddenly, Jamie found themselves standing in the pasta aisle, trapped.
"So, tomato or vodka sauce?" Taylor asked, leaning just a little too close. Their hand brushed Jamie's as they both reached for the same jar.
Jamie's chest tightened. "Uh… tomato."
Taylor smirked, their fingers lingering against Jamie's. "Hmm. Boring choice. But fine."
Jamie felt heat rise to their cheeks, and for the first time that day, they admitted that it wasn't just the physical closeness making their heart race.
---
The tension built with every aisle. Taylor moved with a casual intimacy, brushing against Jamie's arm while grabbing bread, leaning close to whisper jokes about the absurd number of canned beans Jamie insisted on buying, and offering "taste tests" of random snacks.
Jamie tried to focus. Really, they did. They could ignore Taylor almost anywhere else. But standing there, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with the person who seemed to exist solely to unnerve them, it was impossible.
Taylor leaned closer under the guise of inspecting a bag of flour. "You know, your hair smells nice today."
Jamie choked on their breath. "It… smells like… shampoo?"
Taylor's grin widened. "See? Effective."
Jamie groaned, dragging their hand through their hair in a failed attempt to cool off. Every touch, every teasing smile, sent sparks of something wild and unnameable straight through them.
---
At the checkout line, the situation escalated. Taylor leaned over Jamie's shoulder to help bag groceries, their arm brushing Jamie's waist. "Careful, that jar of pasta sauce might be explosive," Taylor whispered, their breath warm against Jamie's ear.
Jamie froze. "I—I got it."
Taylor smirked, leaning closer. "Sure you do."
Jamie could feel the tension pulsing between them—something playful, something electric, something dangerously intimate. They fought the urge to flinch every time Taylor's hand brushed theirs. Fighting Taylor was useless. They always found a way to sneak in, lean in, press in. And Jamie's body, traitorous as ever, responded.
---
Outside, they walked to the car, groceries in tow. Jamie kept their hands firmly on their own bag, trying to maintain some semblance of control. Taylor, naturally, did not.
They reached over, brushing a stray strand of hair from Jamie's face. "There. Much better."
Jamie's pulse raced, their cheeks flaming. "I—stop doing that," they said, though their voices wavered.
Taylor laughed softly, low and intimate, the kind of laugh that made Jamie's knees threaten to buckle. "Doing what? Helping you?"
Jamie glanced away, pretending to be interested in the cars on the street. "You're impossible."
"I'm impossible? You mean irresistible." Taylor winked.
Jamie felt their stomach twist, a mix of exasperation and desire. They were acutely aware of the space between them shrinking, of Taylor leaning a little closer every time they paused to shift a bag, the warmth radiating from their body. Every inch of proximity was a delicate tease, an unspoken challenge.
---
Back at Jamie's apartment, they unpacked the groceries while Taylor leaned casually against the counter. "Do you cook like this often?" Taylor asked, tilting their head, their eyes lingering on Jamie in a way that made Jamie feel naked despite their clothes.
Jamie frowned. "Just… sometimes. Why?"
Taylor shrugged, but the smirk never left their face. "Just wondering. You look… cute when you're focused."
Jamie's throat went dry. "I—thanks." They quickly turned to the counter, pretending to busy themselves with chopping vegetables, but Taylor's presence was suffocating in the best possible way.
Taylor leaned closer again, standing behind Jamie as they worked. Jamie could feel their chest against Taylor's back, their arms brushing as Taylor offered a hand to steady the chopping board. Every accidental touch made Jamie's mind spin.
"You know," Taylor said softly, voice low, teasing, but carrying an almost serious undertone, "we make a really good team. Maybe the best."
Jamie's heart thundered. "The best at… cooking?"
Taylor's grin widened, but their eyes flickered with something unspoken. "Everything," they whispered, leaning just a little closer.
Jamie froze, breath shallow. They knew this was a line Taylor loved to blur—joking, teasing, flirting—but right now it felt dangerous. Electrifying. And far too close to confession for comfort.
When Taylor finally pulled back, Jamie could still feel the ghost of their presence, the warmth, the teasing tension hanging in the air like smoke. They sank onto a stool, head in their hands, heart racing.
Jamie told themselves it was just Taylor being Taylor. Infuriating, flirtatious, uncontainable Taylor.
But deep down, a whisper of truth slid through their thoughts: maybe, just maybe, Jamie wanted Taylor to be this close. Always.
And that thought alone made Jamie's chest ache in a delicious, maddening way.