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I nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”
He slid the steaks across the counter wrapped in brown wax paper and moved on to the next customer in line. I dropped the package in my basket and turned, ready to walk aimlessly up and down the aisles again. I found the cereal aisle in American grocery stores especially interesting, and had it in mind to pick out a few of the outrageous options available to send home to my brothers just for the hell of it.
But as I walked into the produce section, I spotted Whitney examining a basket of apples.
“It’s an apple, Whitney,” I teased as I passed behind her. “Not a relic from ancient Greece.”
She whipped around, glaring at me as I reached past her to grab two of the apples and tossed them in my basket.
“They’re three dollars apiece.” She tilted her chin in a dignified manner, looking me up and down.
I blanched and returned the apples to the basket. Her mouth curved into a smile.
“Are you following me, Professor?”
“I didn’t realize you owned this grocery store, Ms. Dahl.”
“My dad does,” she laughed. “Well, he owns the parent company that owns this chain.”
“And you still have to pay for your own apples?”
“I have to eat, don’t I?” She set a single apple in her basket and walked away, eyeing the rest of the produce on display.
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Why, are you asking me out?” She looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes flashing with sudden challenge.
“You’re in a mood today.” I reached past her again.
“I’d be in a far better mood if you posted the midterm grades.”
“You already know you aced it. The paper too.”
“I like to have it writing.”
I stared down at her, trying to stop myself from smiling. “I’m posting grades tomorrow. Happy?”
She shrugged, turning her nose up at me as she walked off and rounded a corner.
Shaking my head, I followed after her for no reason other than whatever mood she was in was far more entertaining than walking around a nearly empty grocery story by myself just to pass the time.
“Now you really are following me.”
We were in an aisle full of cooking utensils and supplies. She picked up a skillet, weighing it in her hands.
“What do you need that for?”
“My new campus apartment. We’re going to be neighbors.” She set the skillet down and chose a smaller one, tucking it in her basket. “I’ll be right down the bike trail from you now. It’s not as fancy as the little cottage they have you in, but I have a kitchenette. The dean is giving me a screaming deal on rent because I agreed to TA next semester.”
“You’ll be in the same building as Ms. Lowry, too.” I swung my basket, following her step by step and watching as she plucked silicone utensils from a shelf and tossed them into her basket.
“Jessica’s the best, isn’t she?” The cold front she’d been putting on the second I teased her about her thorough apple examination lifted in an instant at the mention of Jessica.
“Why didn’t you want to go to Jersey with her, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She shrugged. “Since you’re anxious to join me on my shopping trip, I guess I don’t mind. Here—” She thrust her overly full basket into my chest before moving on and crouching to scan the store’s options for toasters and electric kettles. “I love Jessica, and her family, but I’m not on good terms with my family right now, so the idea of spending Thanksgiving with anyone just doesn’t sit well with me.” She tucked a kettle and toaster under each arm, turning to face me.
I adjusted the weight of her basket in my free hand. “You could have gotten a cart.”
