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Sober Despite the Wine

He slid his sock-laden feet across the wooden flooring of the wine section at Bi-Lo. I must have stared at him slack-jawed, because he turned and gave me that smirk that punched me in the heart. I held in my havd the box of Fruit Gushers we would share later in the car while listening to Copeland. He giggled and motioned for me to join him as he almost fell, but I told him my sock had a hole in it which prevented me from sliding. Of course, his pouty-face perfected from a spoiled childhood nearly killed me. I reached out and took his hand to draw him close for a kiss, then pulled him across the polished floors to his shoes, and we left and I felt like a jerk.