I was six years old when my mother started working at the cosmetics department at our local drugstore. With dad in another city for most of the year, no one would have been home to watch over me. My parents decided to hire a babysitter. The day I met Kat was bright and wholesome, mostly because my dad bought me gummy worms earlier that day. When Kat walked into our house, I hid behind my dad, willing her to go away. It wasn't until she pulled out a cowboy hat from behind her that I stepped away from dad. A wide smile took over my face and I raced towards her.

Shaking my head to get rid of the wave of memories, I focused on the road.  It was a chilly night. Thin stockings were not the ideal attire for weather like this. The sun was just dipping below the horizon when I spotted the black car.  I was bouncing from foot to foot to stay warm as Zane drove up in front of the dance school. Instant relief passed over me when I slipped into the heated car.

Zane gave me a small smile before signalling and merging back into traffic. The car smelled like leather and men's cologne. Like his apartment, Zane's car was spotless. There was even one of those air fresheners you attached to walls secured into one of the vents. "Hey, Sarah. What's up?" he said, playing with a knob at the front. Heat blasted more strongly from the vents.

Placing my hands against the vents, I said, "Meh. A little girl got sick during class today. I had to spend a good hour making sure everything was okay."

"That sounds terrible. Is she okay now?" He tipped his head to look at me, a frown etched across his features.

I waved a hand at him. "She's fine. Apparently, she ate some bad chicken nuggets." I paused, shaking my head at the memory. "I only know that because I saw the nuggets."  Class just ended and we all had been pulling off our pointe shoes. Unfortunately, my shoes were under direct fire of the barf.

He groaned. "I've been thrown up on before so I totally get it. Sucks that you had to deal with that."

"It's cool. Samantha is a really sweet kid," I said, pressing my forehead against the cold window. "Actually, all the kids are great." Thinking about the kids at work made me smile. Teaching ballet to toddlers was something that my dance instructor, Madame Mary, suggested.

Despite my short temper, I agreed to help and fell in love with the kids. When I first started off, I would come by once or twice a month to help Madame Mary. Now I was coming in three times a week to teach dance without her around.

"How long have you been teaching at the ballet school?" he asked. An involuntary sigh escaped mouth when I let my hair loose from the tight bun on my head. It felt so good to let my hair tumble down my shoulders.

"Not that long. Just three years," I answered, straining my ears to listen to the soft music coming from the speakers. Leaning forward, I spun a dial and was surprised to hear Waltz of the Flowers playing. "Didn't know you were into the Nutcracker." I laughed.

He tugged at his earlobe. "Classical music has been known to improve memory, spark creativity and reduce stress levels," he said robotically, almost like he was reading from a textbook or the back of a brochure.

"Sounds about right." Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against the seat, blocking out everything around me. In high school, the drama club performed the Nutcracker in front of the student body. I helped with the choreography for some of the dance numbers. Almost on instinct, my hands began acting out the step sequence we put together for Waltz of the Flowers.

We pulled up in front of a small family-owned grocery store. A sign above the door read Papa Joe's. "Do you have a list of the things you wanted?" Zane asked as he put the car into park and drew out a notebook out from his pocket.

"No list. It's all in here," I said while tapping my temple with a grin on my face. We made our way into the empty grocery store. The smell of cinnamon buns wafted towards me. At the right, there was a small bakery, the source of the mouth-watering scent. There were also baskets upon baskets piled high with fresh fruits and vegetables to the left. My hands itched to find the perfect pineapple for the dessert I wanted to make.

A man with a big belly and balding head wobbled towards us while he wiped his hands on his apron, streaking flour across it. This guy had to be Papa Joe. Everything about him screamed family man, owner of a grocery store.

"Zane, my man!" he said, his voice loud and cheerful. "It's good to see you here." The man slapped Zane's back before pulling him in for a bear hug.

"The pleasure is all mine," he wheezed, moving away from the embrace.

Still holding onto Zane's hand, the man asked, "how are you holding up?" Zane glanced at me over the guy's meaty shoulder. He whispered something that was too faint for me to hear before stepping away from the baker who nodded in response. A second later the man dropped his gaze to me, giving me a wide grin as he reached his hand out to me. "And who is this pretty lady with you?"

I shook the guy's hand. "My name is Sarah. I'm Zane's...." I hesitated, looking up at Zane and thinking about how to end that sentence. "Friend," I finally said, which didn't seem to faze Zane whatsoever. Yes. That was what Zane and I were. We weren't acquaintances or lovers. But we were friendly towards each other, which made us friends.

Friends who were married. The easiness I felt earlier that evening was replaced with a strange heaviness at the thought. Something prickly settled over my heart. It felt like a wool sweater –uncomfortable.

"And I'm Joe," the man said, shaking my hand a little too excitedly. "You have never been here before, no?" I shook my head while he waved his arm wildly at the cashier, a woman with big curly hair piled on top of her head. A frown was stretched across her delicate features and her arms were crossed. "Wendy, bring me some of the buns from the back." Joe looked back at me, dropping my hand. "That is my wife."

"I'm not going to leave the store without paying for them this time," Zane said as he cocked his head to the side.

"Nonsense!" Joe yelled. He threw his hands up into the air before following his wife into the kitchen.

We stood quietly for a second before Zane looked down at me. "He likes to give me baked goods for free but his wife is completely against it. I'm actually against it." Before I can say anything, Joe rushed out from the kitchen. A brown bag was crushed between his giant hands. He pushed it in my direction and then looked over his shoulder.

"I must go. I need to pick up my son from his friend's house." He gave Zane a pointed look before glancing back at me. "Don't let your friend pay for this." Without waiting for us to respond, Joe was out the door, waving at us over his shoulder.

"He's a cool dude," I said as we watched Joe leave the store.

Someone cleared their throat behind us. Wendy was glaring at us, her arms still crossed and eyes narrowed. Behind the table, she had seemed shorter. Perhaps it was just the look she was giving us that made her look much bigger and intimidating up close. "We are closing soon," spat Wendy. The contents of the brown bag were unknown to me. Something told me that Wendy wasn't happy with her husband giving away free stuff.

"We'll only be a minute," Zane responded coolly as pulled out a cart and pushed it forward. Wendy and I stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before she spun around, disappearing into the kitchen, all while muttering to herself.

Zane was waiting for me beside a basket full of oranges. "Go ahead. I'll catch up to you in a second," I said, grabbing an apple and inspecting it. He shrugged his shoulders but didn't argue. Beside the carts, I had spotted a scooter and was dying to try it out. With Wendy in the kitchen and Zane occupied, now I had my chance.

Dropping the apple back into the basket, I looked over my shoulder and then slipped onto the scooter. The mechanism was simple enough. Before long, I was weaving through the aisles, picking up the items that I knew we needed. There was a small basket attached to the scooter in which I dropped the things into.

Zane was standing in front of the frozen meat section, scrutinizing the chicken in his hands. I approached him slowly. A toot-toot sound came from the scooter when I pressed against the horn. Laughter erupted from my lips when Zane jumped at the sound. His eyebrows went up at the sight of me. I could have sworn the corner of his lips also twitched slightly. "Wendy is going to kick you out of the store if she sees you on that thing," he said, turning back to drop the chicken into his cart.

"What else do you have on the list?" I asked, pulling up beside him to look at his notebook. He had it spread open on the cart and was crossing items out with a red pen as he collected them. Silently, I started pulling food out from my basket and placing them into his cart. He didn't say anything as he put slashes across most of the things on the list, leaving behind only three items.

"You have a good memory," he noted. "We're almost done." After that, we went to the egg and yogurt section. While I spun slow circles around him, Zane compared two brands of yogurt, mumbling to himself. You'd think after being a regular at Papa Joe's he would be able to pick out items blindly. But he took his sweet ass time, trying to decide between the array of products that were available.

When we finally made it to the front, I jumped off the scooter to help Zane with the groceries. We managed to pile everything onto the table before Wendy came back out. Giving us vile looks, she started scanning the items. The cost crept higher and higher with every item she scanned. Zane would never let me pay for the groceries. In fact, he was already clutching a card in his hand.

Now would be a good time to put the scooter back in its place. Turning around, I went to sit on the scooter and tried to put it into reverse. The lever was stuck. No amount of tugging would set it loose.

And that's when it happened.

The scooter went barreling backward and crashed into a stack of pickles. Jars fell over, breaking as they hit the floor.

My heart was in my throat. No. My heart was in my mouth.

Wendy practically jumped over the table and then grabbed onto my arm, yelling obscurities at me. She pulled me off the scooter and shoved me aside, trying to assess the damage. Zane came up behind me and tapped my elbow. "Are you okay?" I nodded my head.

"I'm really sorry, Wendy. I'll pay for the damages," I said meekly.

She turned around, her eyes full of pure rage. "Get out!" she screamed, shoving my shoulder roughly. "Get the fuck out of here!"

Zane stepped in front of me. "Hey. I understand that you're upset, Wendy. It was an accident and we will cover the cost of the damages," he said calmly, raising his hands up in front of him.

Wendy pointed at the door. "Out of my store before I call the cops." A tingling feeling spread across my back. It had been an accident. As far as I could tell, only four jars had tipped over and crashed to the floor. I could have paid for them.

Before I could say anything, Zane grabbed the plastic bags and moved towards the door. Was he expecting me to follow? To back down without a fight? "I will call your husband about the damages," he said over his shoulder. While Zane was the epitome of unbothered, I was losing my shit.

"There is no need for that. You two are banned from my store!" she screamed back. She shoved me again. My hands curled into fists at my sides and I took a step towards the woman.

"Sarah," Zane called out. His voice reeled me in from the ocean I was already drowning in. With a sneer and a hair flip, I spun around and walked out without glancing back at Wendy. She locked the doors behind us.

It was dark outside. There were no lights in the parking lot. The wind played with my hair and I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself.  It took everything in me to stop myself from kicking the door of the store.

"Can she do that?" I asked, looking at Zane. "Ban us from her store?"

He shrugged his shoulders as he handed a bag to me. "Private businesses have the right to ban customers as long as though it's done on reasonable grounds." Causing trouble in the store was definitely reasonable grounds.

I sighed.

"I'm sorry for getting us kicked out of the store," I whispered.

Zane gave me a half-grin. Weary eyes bore down at me. "Don't worry about it. I'm more of a No frills kind of guy anyway."