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It’s her.
Frozen behind my shopping cart, I look down at my clothing choice. I’m wearing my PBS shirt, dark jeans, and Converse. I can’t remember if I gelled my hair before I left the house, which could be disastrous. Without a second thought, I follow as she spouts off on her phone.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll meet you there.”
I’m smiling at her back while she pushes her squeaky cart. She’s small but curvy, her dress flaring out a little at her hips. Toned calves peek out through a knee-length slit as she saunters down the aisle with purpose. Dark-brown hair flows past her shoulders swaying with her movement. Intrigued, I follow her into the next aisle as she gazes at the various pickle jars like they have some secret she’s straining to hear. She chooses kosher dill, my favorite, as I try to get a better look at her profile. Pink glossed lips protrude as she bites one of them and scans the rest of the shelves. It’s when I push forward for more inspection that she turns to look directly at me. All words fall away when I get my first real look at her.
“Need some pickles?”
“Sure,” I say with a grin, stepping forward and taking the jar out of her hand.
Her mouth parts as she watches me put them in my cart.
“Is your back broken, buddy? Or are you just desperate for pickles?”
“Uh huh.”
“Wow, okay, enjoy.” She gives me wide eyes that scream ‘weirdo’ before she grabs a replacement jar and wheels away.
Shaking off my shock, I turn the corner to announce myself and slam into her waiting cart as she blocks the next aisle.
“Why are you following me? And choose your words carefully, or I will make a scene like you would never believe. You’re creeping me out right now, and I’m pretty sure I can take you.”
I chuckle and shake my head.
“Sorry, that was a dick move taking your pickles.”
She narrows hazel eyes at me. Adorable. “Yes, it was. Doesn’t answer my question. Why are you following me? I assure you whatever is in my cart, they have more of it here.” I peruse her stash.
“How about some rum?”
“Come again?”
“Rum.”
“Ugh, look, I can see that you’re high…or something. But this is the grocery store.” She jerks her head. “Liquor store is down the street.”
“I’m not high.”
“You sure? ‘Cause that would explain a lot.”
“Banana rum?”
“Fascinatin’. Look, no habla window licker. I’m sure the ‘special’ bus driver will come retrieve you shortly.”
I bark out a laugh. “Laney, it’s me, Houseman.”
She tilts her head before realization dawns, and a smile upturns her lips. “Houseman?”
Nodding, I return her smile as her eyes trail down, taking me in. I can’t decipher what she’s thinking.
“So, this is you?”
“Yep. This is me.”
“Well, you’re lucky I remembered. I was about to end you.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty funny you think you could take me.”
