“Shit!” she gasps, as she begins to move boxes aside.
I crouch down to help her. We’re frantically digging through piles of stuffing boxes when finally I come across her phone. On it, there’s a video playing of a sexy race car driver, looking hot and sweaty, his inked hands holding a bottle of icy water up to his mouth.
The girl sees me looking at the screen and clears her throat. “Um … that’s the reason I crashed into the endcap,” she confesses.
I hand her the phone. “I can see why. Who is it?”
“Formula 1 driver Xavier Williams. My husband,” she adds, grinning at me. Then she grows serious. “Please know I’m kidding about that. He’s not really my husband. I don’t plan on stalking him and trying to make him become my husband. I just enjoy looking at him.”
I study her for a moment. She has long blondish-brown hair that is swinging around her shoulders, and she’s dressed casually in a black T-shirt and jeans.
“Oh, I might have similar videos saved in my phone,” I say, thinking of the TikToks and Connectivity Story Shares of Aiden I have collected.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” the girl says. She bends over and begins putting stuffing boxes back on the shelf.
“No, I’m not,” I assure her, bending down again to help her.
“Oh please, this is my mess, I’m sure you have better things to do on Thanksgiving than help me pick up dry stuffing mix.”
I pick up another box and set it on the shelf. I look over at the other half of the display, the half that is still standing, and it’s artfully grouped. I look back at what we are doing, and it’s a disaster.
The girl stops putting boxes up and follows my gaze. “Crap, it’s like the Jenga of stuffing boxes!”
I burst out laughing. I like this girl. She’s funny, and she doesn’t take herself too seriously.
Then a thought hits me. I’ve heard stories about people finding dates at the supermarket, saying it’s a place where you can meet someone. I know there have even been some singles’ nights at some stores for mingling.
Would it be weird to try and make a friend at the grocery store?
I can’t decide if it’s weird or inspired.
The girl goes back to stacking boxes, and I bite my lip, wondering how strange it would be if I asked her to get a coffee or something. I decide to try talking to her as we clean up the mess. “My name is Scarlett, by the way.”
“I’m Hadleigh,” she says.
“Do you have big plans for this Thanksgiving?”
She snorts. “I’m going to have lunch with my mom, dinner with my dad, and listen to them each bash the other one like they have done for years, even though they’re divorced. But then I get to have pie at my best friend’s house, so that makes it better, even if my best friend is in Qatar.” Hadleigh pauses. “Sorry, were you looking for a general, ‘Oh, nothing major, just dinner’ kind of answer?”
I smile as I continue to put boxes back on the shelf. “I like your answer, actually. And wow, Qatar?”
“She travels all the time for her job,” Hadleigh explains. “What about you?”
“I’m going to have dinner with my parents—my brothers don’t live in Miami, so it’s the three of us. I’m here on a mission, actually. To pick up this,” I say, holding up a can of jellied cranberries. “This is a must for my dad.”
Hadleigh’s lips twist. “I’m not a fan of that. I like the berry kind better.”
“I can eat either, I’m Switzerland on it. But there has to be lots of mashed potatoes, gravy, and cornbread dressing or I’m out.”
“Oh my God, same! That’s the best part!”
We finish up the last of the boxes and I look over at Hadleigh. Do I ask her if she’d like to meet for coffee? Will she think it’s weird? I mean, we’ve talked for about five minutes.
She might think I’m a whackadoo.
Or she might be down for potentially making a new friend.
I think of the chances I’ve taken on Aiden. Things I never would have done before, and I have Aiden now because I was willing to be brave.
