Lovestruck (EDITING)

45: Something for the Resume

"You want me to do what?" Jayden looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed in hesitation.

"Just distract the cashier a little while I grab a few things," I plead. "Like we used to."

"We used to shoplift gum and root beers," he sighs, looking towards the deserted gas station we've pulled up outside of after driving around for over an hour. "It's a little different."

"It's not that different," I argue, giving him my most innocent, pleading smile.

"You're incorrigible," Jayden sighs as he climbs out of the truck and slams the door, walking towards the gas station.

I give him a wide grin and a thumbs up when he glances back towards me. Jayden rolls his eyes and keeps walking until he disappears through the automatic doors. I glance around the truck as I wait for a few minutes, spotting one of Jayden's black sweatshirts screwed up on the back seat. I reach for it, pulling it over my head before climbing out of the truck to face the cool night air. I take a deep breath before strutting casually into the gas station and walking past the cashier and Jayden without making eye contact.

"The Patriots are the kings of football, though," I can hear Jayden arguing with the cashier and I smile as I take a small bottle of vodka from a shelf and slip it beneath the waistband of my skirt without looking away from the candy bars I'm pretending to be browsing.

There's a small TV playing a repeat of last week's Bears' game in terrible quality from a shelf behind the cashier desk and both Jayden and the unhappy looking cashier look to be watching it. I know we lost, so I understand the pained look on the cashier's face, but Jayden looks amused. He's always been a Patriots fan for reasons I've never understood. I guess he just wanted to pick a team that would annoy me the most as a Bear's fan, and he succeeded. I remember him always poking fun at me when my team lost, and the irritating excitement that would possess him whenever his team won was enough to stop me from ever mentioning football to him again, to this day.

Sliding my hand along the candy bars to exaggerate my interest in them, I use my other hand to slip a couple of packets of gum into the pocket of Jayden's sweatshirt, the way I taught myself as a kid. It's not that I couldn't afford a pack of gum as a child. In fact, my mom would always make sure I had money on me for our stops at the gas station. It's all about the thrill. The adrenaline that comes from doing the wrong thing on purpose, especially when you throw in the risk of being caught at any moment.

"How can you live and breathe Chicago air and not support our Bears?" the tired-looking cashier questions Jayden in frustration as he rubs at his messy stubble.

"If the Bears are representative of all of the ability Chicago, that's a little embarrassing," he shoots back defensively. "Plus, it's not really about where I live for me."

"You should be deported," the cashier announces. "Was there anything you wanted to buy, or were you just here to take advantage of my TV and insult the entire city of Chicago?"

"Oh, uh... Just... this?" I hear Jayden mumble and grab something to buy as I eye a couple of bottles of root beer in the fridge in front of me, deciding if continuing our tradition is worth being caught.