The Coldest Summer✓

Twenty-four

A dark grey Aston is parked outside, and it appears to be our ride. Malik, dressed up in a vest and shorts, settles behind the wheel, and I buckle my seatbelt right next to him. It only takes a ten-minutes ride to the supermarket across the street.

"Okay, what are we buying exactly?" Malik queries jovially, his grey eyes full of excitement.

I wonder if he's ever done this shopping thing before, because honestly he looks like Alice in a wonderland. I laugh at the way he wanders his gaze around the isles.

"Just push the cart, and I'll do the rest," I tell him while pushing the little carriage toward him.

"Sure, Professor." He grins placidly.

I pick all the important things we need for the bathrooms. Afterwards I add some eggs, vegetables, chicken, bacon and sausages, and other stuff for the kitchen.

For a moment Malik disappears from my sight, and when I find him, he's sucking a popsicle while holding a bucketful of vanilla ice cream and a full package of those popsicles.

"Seriously?" I erupt into laughter.

"What can I do, Professor? I've my priorities straight." Malik beams.

I shake my head amusedly. "You're impossible."

Malik adds a carton of beer, four bottles of wine—two whites and two reds—and I add a gallon of tropical juice and two cartons of drinking water.

"Oh, I totally forgot," he utters, regarding the water.

"I know. Yet you remembered beer and wine. Boys!" I walk past him with a smile.

"Well . . ." Malik chuckles. "I guess that's why people get married."

Our cart is full, and I'm sure we've got all the necessities. I open my wallet to get my card, but Malik stops me by holding my hand.

"Allow me, please," he pleads, and he doesn't even give me a chance to retaliate as he's already smiling at the lady on the cash register.

After the supermarket trip, we pass by a small bakery to buy some fresh bread. We end up buying more than just bread, as expected, Malik is indeed enjoying this new experience.

"Who's going to eat all these pastries, Malik?" I laugh heartily as we head toward the car, each of us carrying the paper bags filled with something.

"Professor, you're living with three healthy men now," he says while pinching his car remote to unlock. "Don't ever underestimate our muscles."

"You know what, I'm done asking questions." I grab the door handle, laughing, and he trunks everything inside. "I'm glad you had fun. Now let's go home." I glance at him, loving the twinkle of joy and youth in his eyes.

From all this, I realize that sometimes these rich folks are missing a lot in life than we imagine they don't. Even if their daily lives are filled with glamour and flash, there are still few simple things in life that have greater meaning than any of that, and we should probably be grateful for those little things we have.

Good memories and happy moments are what count the most.

By the time we get back to the house Sam is sitting by the pool, tapping on her cellphone absentmindedly. The car pulls over and that's when she finally sees us. She gets up as we approach while laughing at one of Malik's jokes.

"Hey, guys, we've been trying to reach you in hours! Where have you been?" She looks agitated as though we were trying to elope.

Malik and I share a glance, for it hasn't been that long since we left; hours is a very huge exaggeration. Well, that's Sam . . . queen of drama.