Aisles of Chaos

Lingling moved through the grocery store with a sense of purpose, her sharp heels clicking softly against the polished tiles. Her assistant had practically begged her to let someone else handle this chore, but Lingling refused. Grocery shopping wasn't just a mundane task to her—it was about control. The exact brands, the exact quantities, the exact quality.

Most people wouldn't understand. They saw her as untouchable, a woman of power who had people for these things. But here she was, in her tailored suit and understated heels, carefully comparing labels on imported olive oils.

Satisfied, she dropped a bottle into her cart and moved to the next aisle, her expression calm but her mind preoccupied. Her week had been uneventful by her standards: board meetings, late-night reports, and the usual tedium of managing a multi-million-dollar empire. The monotony barely fazed her; after all, she thrived in structure.

What did faze her, however, was the memory of a certain blonde bartender who had an annoying knack for making herself unforgettable. Lingling had replayed their last encounter far too many times, much to her own irritation.

She sighed as she reached for a perfectly ripe avocado, mentally checking off her list. And then she heard it—a laugh.

That laugh.

Lingling froze. Her grip tightened on the avocado as she turned, almost reluctantly. And there she was.

Orm.

The blonde was chatting animatedly with an elderly employee, a basket slung over her arm. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, her sleeves rolled up, and her smile—infuriatingly dazzling as always—lit up the entire aisle.

Lingling stiffened. Of all the places...

As if sensing her gaze, Orm turned. Her eyes lit up with recognition, followed immediately by a grin that was far too wide for Lingling's comfort.

"Well, well, well," Orm called out, her voice ringing across the aisle. "If it isn't the CEO, conquering the grocery store. What's next? Are you planning to buy the chain itself?"

Lingling straightened, her expression unreadable as usual. "You," she said crisply. "Are you following me?"

Orm chuckled, straightening up and crossing her arms as she took a casual step closer. "I could ask you the same thing. You've been popping up in all my spots lately. At the coffee shop, at the pop-up bar and now this? Starting to feel like destiny."

"It's a grocery store," Lingling said, coolly unimpressed. "Not exactly exclusive."

Orm smirked, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "True. But you, here? Let me guess—you've got assistants for everything else, but grocery shopping? That's your personal domain?"

Lingling raised her chin. "I prefer to handle things myself."

Orm leaned against the edge of a shelf, her tall frame effortlessly towering over Lingling. The playful glint in her eyes was impossible to miss. "Control freak, huh? Gotta admit, I find that kind of... dedication intriguing."

Orm's grin widened as she sauntered over, abandoning her basket temporarily. "Color me impressed. Didn't think you'd be the type to do the dirty work. Let me guess—organic everything?" She leaned closer, mock-whispering. "Or do you secretly buy those cheap instant noodles when no one's looking?"

Lingling's jaw tightened, but she refused to rise to the bait. "I see you're as tactless as ever."

"And you're as uptight as ever," Orm shot back, effortlessly playful. "Seriously though, I didn't think I'd see you here. What's next? You're secretly a coupon queen?"

Lingling ignored the jab and reached for a jar of truffle salt on the top shelf, but it was just out of her reach. She didn't let it show, maintaining her composed demeanor as she stretched for it.

Before she could decide whether to ask for assistance or climb the shelf herself, Orm stepped in. "Need some help?" she asked, already reaching for the jar.

"I don't need—" Lingling started, but Orm had already grabbed it, handing it to her with a smirk.

"There you go. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you needed my help," Orm teased.

Lingling snatched the jar, her expression icy. "I didn't ask for your help."

"And yet you still got it," Orm quipped, her grin unshaken.

Before Lingling could fire back, a voice interrupted them.

"Oh my gosh, Orm!" A young woman approached, clearly starstruck. "I didn't know you shopped here too! Are you free for coffee later?"

Lingling watched the interaction with a faint frown as the woman flirted shamelessly. Orm, to her credit, handled it with her usual charm, thanking the admirer but politely declining.

As the woman walked away, Orm turned back to Lingling with a wink. "Happens all the time. Guess some of us are just irresistible."

Lingling rolled her eyes, pushing her cart forward. "How tragic for you."

Orm fell into step beside her, undeterred. "You know, if you keep hanging around me, people are going to think you're jealous."

Lingling stopped, turning to face her with a look that could freeze over the tropics. "Why would I be jealous of someone like you?"

Orm tilted her head, pretending to think. "Because you can't flirt like I can? Or maybe," she leaned in slightly, "because you'd rather have all my attention to yourself."

Lingling's composure almost cracked for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly, brushing past Orm with a scoff. "You're delusional."

Orm laughed, jogging a few steps to catch up. "Maybe. But you're smiling on the inside. Admit it."

"Okay, serious question," Orm said, holding up a box of cookies. "Are these better than the fancy biscuits rich people always serve at board meetings? Be honest."

Lingling's lips twitched—just barely—but she immediately schooled her expression. "That depends. Are you capable of eating them without commentary?"

"Doubtful." Orm grinned. "But hey, you didn't deny being rich. That's progress."

Lingling sighed, "I don't have time for this."

As she turned to leave, Orm stepped in front of her, holding up her basket like an offering. "Wait, let me guess—you're buying the boring essentials. Let me spice up your list."

Before Lingling could protest, Orm plucked a bag of colorful marshmallows off a shelf and dropped it into her cart.

"Absolutely not," Lingling said firmly, pulling the bag out and putting it back.

"Oh, come on," Orm teased. "You're telling me you've never toasted marshmallows over a fire? Roasted a perfect golden-brown one? It's a life experience, CEO."

Lingling stared at her, expression icy but with the faintest hint of curiosity behind it. "I have neither the time nor the inclination for... marshmallows."

Orm chuckled, taking the bag and putting it back into Lingling's cart. "Guess you'll have to trust me on this one. Consider it a gift."

"I don't accept gifts," Lingling said curtly, taking the bag out again.

"Okay," Orm replied, grinning. "Then consider it my treat. It's on me."

Lingling gave her a pointed look. "We're in a grocery store. That's not how this works."

Orm's grin didn't falter. "It is if you don't pay for it."

Lingling sighed, clearly exasperated. But as much as she wanted to be annoyed, there was something almost... refreshing about Orm's persistent charm. Against her better judgment, she let the marshmallows stay in the cart.

"Fine," she said finally, her tone sharp but her resolve softening. "But don't expect me to thank you."

"Oh, wouldn't dream of it," Orm replied, her smile impossibly wide.

By the time Lingling reached the checkout counter, Orm was still at her side, chatting away as if they were old friends. Lingling tried to ignore her, but the cashier looked between the two of them with a knowing smile.

"You two make a cute couple," the cashier remarked, scanning Lingling's items.

Lingling froze. "We're not—"

"Thanks! She's a bit shy about it," Orm interrupted smoothly, winking at the cashier.

Lingling turned to glare at Orm, but the blonde just laughed, stepping back.

Lingling paid for her items, her expression as calm as ever and as she turned to walk away,  Orm called out behind her, "By the way, in case you forgot—the name's Orm. Don't wait too long to find another excuse to run into me, CEO!".

Lingling didn't turn around but her pace quickened ever so slightly as she made her way to the parking lot, but as she walked to her car, she realized her mind was buzzing with irritation—and something else she couldn't quite name.

Orm. Again.

What was it about that woman?

Orm watched her go, still grinning. "Yup," she muttered to herself. "She's fun."