Chapter 50
**Sara**
I'd just finished binge-watching three episodes of "The Great British Bake Off" when my stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead. Realizing my fridge was as empty as my love life, I dragged myself off the couch and headed to the grocery store.
The sun had already dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange. I grabbed a cart and wheeled it inside, the fluorescent lights a harsh contrast to the twilight outside.
"Alright, Sara," I muttered, "let's make this quick. In and out, no distractions."
I started in the produce section, tossing some sad-looking lettuce into my cart. Who was I kidding? That would probably rot before I remembered to eat it. I moved on to the snack aisle because, let's be honest, that's where the magic happens.
As I deliberated between salt and vinegar chips or sour cream and onion (why not both?), I saw a familiar face.
I froze, a bag of chips in each hand. There, scrutinizing a box of cereal like it held the secrets of the universe, was Tom. My Tom. Well, not my Tom. Professor Blackwood. Whatever.
My brain short-circuited. Should I duck behind the Doritos display? Pretend I didn't see him? But before I could decide, he looked up, and our eyes met.
Crap.
I plastered on what I hoped was a casual smile and not a deer-in-headlights grimace. "Hey, fancy meeting you here," I said, approaching him with my cart.
"Sara, I didn't expect to see you here."
"Yeah, well, a girl's gotta eat, right?"
Tom glanced at my cart, his eyebrows rising slightly. "I see you've got quite the... diverse selection there."
I looked down at my cart, suddenly embarrassed by the mountain of chips, cookies, and frozen pizzas. "Oh, you know, just stocking up on the essentials," I joked weakly.
He smiled, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. "You should try to eat a bit healthier. All that processed food isn't good for you."
"Says the man buying..." I peered at the box in his hand, "bran flakes? Really?"
He laughed. "Touché. But seriously, a balanced diet is important, especially when you're studying."
"Okay, Dad. I'll eat a carrot stick tomorrow," I quipped. Then, seeing the look on his face, I softened my tone. "Look, I don't actually eat all this processed stuff at once. It's just... you know, for those nights when I'm too tired to cook. Or when I'm cramming for exams and need quick fuel. Most of the time, I eat pretty healthy."
Tom's eyebrows shot up, his gaze darting between me and my cart. "Really? Because this looks like the shopping list of a college freshman during finals week."
"Oh please, like you never indulge. What's hidden behind that box of bran flakes, huh? Some secret stash of chocolate?"
"I'll have you know that bran flakes are a perfectly respectable breakfast choice."
"Sure, if you're 80 and worried about your fiber intake."
We both laughed and felt really nice, even with the professor-student complication. I relaxed, the tension in my shoulders easing as I forgot the awkwardness between us.
"So," I said, leaning on my cart, "what else is in your basket of culinary delights?"
Tom hesitated for a second, then turned his basket towards me. "Well, since you asked..." He started pulling out items. "We've got some quinoa, kale, free-range eggs, organic tomatoes..."
"Wow, you weren't kidding about the health kick. What's next, wheatgrass shots?"
He grinned sheepishly. "Actually..." He pulled out a small bottle of green liquid.
"No way!" I burst out laughing. "You're such a cliché!"
"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it. This stuff is great for energy and focus."
I wrinkled my nose. "I'll stick to coffee, thanks."
We continued our banter as we made our way through the store, each adding a few more items to our carts. I even threw in some apples and a bag of baby carrots to prove I could make healthy choices, too.
As we approached the checkout, I wished we could keep talking. It was nice, this easy back-and-forth between us. There was no pressure, no expectations, just two people enjoying each other's company.
We stood in line together, still chatting and laughing. When it was my turn, I started loading my items onto the conveyor belt. Tom stood behind me, and I could feel his eyes on me as I reached into my cart.
"Need any help?" he asked, his voice low and close to my ear.
I turned, suddenly aware of how close he was standing. "I've got it, thanks," I managed to say, my voice sounding breathier than I intended.
Our eyes locked, and I forgot where we were. All I could think about was how easy it would be to lean in, to close that tiny gap between us...
The cashier's voice snapped me back to reality. "That'll be $47.82, miss."
I fumbled with my wallet, nearly dropping it to break eye contact with Tom. As I paid, I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. What was wrong with me? We were in a grocery store for crying out loud!
After paying, I gathered my bags and waited for Tom to check out. As we stepped out of the store together, the cool night air was a welcome relief against my flushed skin.
"So," Tom said, shifting his bags to one hand. "This was... unexpected."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just yet. We stood there momentarily, neither of us quite ready to say goodbye.
I shifted awkwardly, clutching my grocery bags. "Well, I should probably get going. It's getting late."
"Oh, right. How are you getting home?"
"Walking," I shrugged. "It's not far."
"At this hour? That's not a good idea. Let me give you a ride."
I hesitated. Being alone in a car with Tom seemed like a recipe for disaster, temptation, or both. But the alternative was a long, chilly walk with heavy grocery bags.
"Alright," I conceded. "But no funny business, mister."
"I'll be the perfect gentleman."
Tom pulled up to my apartment building, and I felt disappointed. I wasn't ready for the night to end just yet. The short drive had been filled with comfortable silence and stolen glances, and now that we were here, I found myself wishing we had taken the long way around.
"Well, this is me," I said. "Thanks for the ride."
Tom nodded, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. He looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back.
I bit my lip, then made a split-second decision. "Hey, um... do you want to come up for some tea? As a thank you for the ride."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, why not? It's just tea, right?"
Tom smiled. "Just tea."
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