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I smiled up at him as I flopped back down onto my side. “Thanks, Greid.”
He hesitated, then gently reached out and tucked the stray curls that had flopped over my face behind my ear. My heart spasmed, and I almost reached up to grab his hand and press a kiss to it.
Snatching his hand back, he jumped to his feet and mumbled, “Um, okay, I’ll just get changed and go.”
“Thank you,” I said again, watching him stride quickly out of the room.
A few minutes later, he ducked his head back in, now dressed in jeans and a sweater. “Any snacks in particular?”
I thought about it. “Potato chips, please. And an iced tea.”
“Okay.” His fingers flexed against the door jamb. “I’ll be back soon. Then we can just hang out all night doing nothing.”
Once I’d heard the front door open and close, I exhaled and shut my eyes, but that only made me focus on the cramps more, so I opened them again to try and concentrate on the TV. When I felt my phone vibrating in the big front pocket of my onesie a while later, I pulled it out and saw a text from Greid.
I chuckled when I opened it and saw the picture he’d sent: shelves and shelves of period products. Then he sent, This is confusing.
Smiling, I texted back, Just grab any! Pads, though. Not tampons.
Ten seconds later, a video call came through. I grinned when I answered and Greid’s narrow, dark face filled the screen, an earbud in one ear.
“You’re gonna have to show me. There’s too many options.” He flipped to the back camera, and I heard his knees crack as he crouched down. “Okay, so you want the ones with wings, right? A lot of the ones called pads seem to have wings.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, please.”
“They have organic ones here.” He zoomed in on a box. “Is that important?”
Laughing, I said, “I don’t know, but I don’t need organic ones.”
“What about night-time ones? Do you need those?” Greid picked a box up. “How are they different?”
“Um, I think they’re just bigger. More absorbent.”
“So the manufacturers don’t claim that they have, like, special night-time period-fighting powers through absorbing moonlight or something?”
I snorted a laugh. “Wouldn’t that require people to go outside and present their underpants to the moon?”
“I dunno, maybe some people do. This may come as a shock to you, Beryl, but I’m not actually an expert on human periods.”
Through more laughter, I said, “Just get those ones there, in the blue box. Regular.”
“’Kay.” He picked two boxes up, then focused the camera on something else. “Oh wow, look, they have underwear with, like, built-in ones. That seems environmentally friendly. Do you want some of those?”
My belly was cramping up from chuckling. “Just the pads is fine, Greid.”
“And chips and iced tea, right?” He put them in his basket and flipped back to the front-facing camera.
I gazed at him, still grinning, as he walked down the aisle and glanced up, tracking something that passed him. If his nose hadn’t been so flat, I would’ve been able to see right up it.
“Beryl?” He looked down at the camera again as he walked through the store. “Chips and iced tea, yeah?”
“Oh.” I flushed. “Yeah, please. Are you getting anything?”
“Nah.” He grinned down at me slyly. “I don’t want to ruin my dinner.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes, then listened to him load some chips—multiple bags—into his basket. Then he made a face and grabbed something else. Then, as he walked down the aisle, several more things.
I laughed. “What are you getting?”
