Love of the elite

Two

After an hour of unpacking, I leave my room. I want a drink. I head into the kitchen and open up the fridge. Shit. I forgot. There's nothing here.
"Atwood!" I shout.
"Jesus Kennedy, what?" He shouts back. Then I hear footsteps.
"We need to go shopping, wanna go now?" I ask.
"Um I didn't think we had to go together but okay" he responded and picked up his car keys.

"So how many cars have you got?" I ask as we step into the elevator.
"Four," he says still very sternly.
"Which models?" I ponder.
"McLaren 620R, Lamborghini Aventador, Lamborghini urus and a BMW X3... oh and the agency car of course but I didn't exactly pay for it" he explains.
"Nice, I had a Porsche but it was smashed up in an accident, well technically the wheel was shot but that's not the point."
He gives me a smile which is slightly a laugh. Agent Atwood smiling? Surely not.

Once we reach the underground parking lot. I look around and see that most of the cars are either agency cars, luxury cars, or supercars. I take a look at the number plates. Surely they distinguish which car is who's, they all look the same. As I begin to read the number plates I notice a pattern. They all say EAA at the end of then and they all have two letters at the start and At least one number. For example. FA9 EAA. Then I spot something in the corner of my eye. EK33 EAA my initials, and my apartment number. This car must be mine. I reach into my pocket and discover that I still have my key. I press unlock and there it is. The flashing yellow lights.

"I see you've figured out which car is yours" Atwood comes behind me and whispers in my ear. Which scares me a little I'm not gonna lie.
"Yep, it was pretty easy actually" I brag and giggle a little.

I open the door to his car and sit inside. I don't see why he uses his car when he could just use the tube or walk. It would probably save him a lot of money.
"I'd like to go to a Tesco's, there's not one that's a close walk to here" he explains. I mean that's the walking thing crushed by not the tube thing. Oh well.

It takes us quite a while to get to Tesco. He wanted to go to a superstore. So we had to leave central London. Which I'm fine with. I enjoyed the drive anyways.

We grab a big trolley (shopping cart) and head inside.
"Let's check the home section first, we may as well make the place we are about to live for god knows how long a bit more like a home other than a showroom" I advised. He nods and pushes the trolley toward the home section.

"Let's buy some of these decorative pillows for the sofa in the living room" he suggests and honestly I agree.
"Yeah sure, black or grey," I ask.
"Grey, definitely grey" he affirms me.
"Perhaps it's because of your morally grey personality" I banter. He gives a smile, a small smile but nothing more. I will never get this guy to laugh will I? That kind of reminds me of something. I'm moving in with a guy I barely know. I mean I know it's for work and all but it's still a bit odd.

"I just realised we are both moving in with someone we barely know" I express.
"No, I know you," he tells me
"How, we've known each other for around 6 hours now"
"Well, I'll start with the fact that I can tell that you like to read, but you are not absolutely obsessed, I can tell this because of your use of language, you are quite sophisticated, secondly, you have a huge ego, this is caused by your father being a spy maybe, or an assassin either one, and your the type of girl who thrives off of professional or academic validation" he explains, and he's pretty much spot on, except for the fact that both of my parents were spies. He smiles knowing he was correct and begins to walk towards the health and body section.

"Wow, nice character judgement Atwood. Considering you know me so well, I'd like to get to know you" I request. He picks up a bottle of men's shaving foam and says
"Go ahead, ask me something"
"Favourite colour?"
"Blue"
"Favourite holiday spot?"
"French riviera"
"Any tattoos?"
"Many"
"First name?"
"Keep it professional Kennedy"
"We don't need to be professional, we literally live together now, we have to know one another On some sort of a professional level right?" I ask.
"Trust me, it's better if we don't, for both of our emotions," he tells me.
"Why?" I plead.
"Ever heard the quote, 'one of us won't survive' yeah neither have I, but I just made it one" he warns me.

I gulp. I don't want to die and I don't want him to either. I've only known him for six hours, nearly Seven, however, I'll know him a lot longer before anything like this could happen.

I stay quiet for a while, thinking over what he said. 'One of us won't survive. It repeats over and over in my head, and a ball of nerves sits in my stomach.
"Kennedy, I'm sorry if I scared you, but it happens too often, I came to terms with it a long time ago, you should have too"
"Atwood, I have come to terms with it, but I kind of don't want to die yet, and neither do I want you to"
He nods like he's overthinking what he said too and picks out two boxes of cereal. I do the same, I want to be stocked up.

We finish shopping around 30 minutes later and head home. The drive is going slowly, and silently too. It's not awkward. We're both just stuck in thought. After hearing that quote earlier, I almost don't feel human anymore. I'll get over it. I think I'm just overwhelmed.

We open the door to apartment 33. Our apartment and a wave of happiness wash over me as I look at the view beyond the window. It's getting dark and all of the city lights are turning on and the river water is flowing majestically. I drop my bags on the counters and walk over to the windows. It's so pretty.