Page 27 of You Fall First

Three items or less can stay in my head, no problem. Four or more, and I need to make an actual physical list. But since my goal is to get out of the store and into my pajamas as quickly as possible, I’m not adding anything else.

That is, until I reach the snack aisle.

As I wander past the wall of potato chips on my way to the candy, I find myself piling the basket with stuff I had no idea I desperately required. Clearly I can no longer live without Frito Scoops, Bean and Cheese Dip, and Ruffles—both the Salt and Vinegar and the Sour Cream and Onion kinds. Microwave popcorn sounds good too. The one with movie theater butter on top.

And can I just say that whoever put salty and sweet in such close proximity is a genius?

So am I, the way I manage to Tetris everything into my basket along with the Advil.

Once I’m armed with enough junk food for an entire slumber party, I decide to hit the feminine hygiene aisle for extra tampons. I’ve already exceeded my three-item limit anyway, and they won’t go to waste.

I pop the largest box I can find on top of the basket, then steamroll my way toward the self-checkout lane. A sappy Muzak version of “My Heart Will Go On” plays over the sound system, while my head plays a reminder of my mental grocery list.

Hershey’s Kisses.

Advil.

Milk.

Whoops.

Forgot the milk.

This is not a problem. One trip to the dairy section for a gallon of two percent, and I’ll be home watching Jim win over Pam in less than ten minutes. I just wish I’d remembered to bring a sweater. I always feel like I’m entering the Arctic Circle just to grab cottage cheese.

In an effort to make this pivot as quick as possible, I barrel around the corner of the refrigerator aisle and almost trip over Dutton Stadler for the second time today.

“Whoa!” Noah grips my elbow just in time to steady me, so I survive the impact.

My leaning tower of period supplies?

Not so much.

The seismic shift knocks my too-full basket, and the industrial-sized box of tampons topples off the top and bounces onto the shiny floor. Before I can even attempt a squat, Noah’s already bent down to help. He collects the hot pink box with the words SUPER ABSORBENCY in highlighter yellow across the bottom. There might as well be a neon sign announcing my predicament to the entire grocery store.

My super-sized predicament.

“Sorry,” I say, weakly.

“Why?” Noah hands the box over. “For having a uterus? Pretty normal.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Right.” Except the truth is, the entire time I was with Oliver, I don’t think he ever acknowledged a single normal function of my female body, so this is new territory for me.

“Hi!” Dutton chirps. He’s holding a variety pack of Otter Pops and grinning at me.

“What’s up, Woody?”

“Popsicles.” He lifts the package for inspection. “For Bugs.” He nods in the direction of the basket on Noah’s arm. One long rabbit ear droops over the side.

“I see Bugs is traveling in style with you.” I glance around, lowering my voice. “I have it on good authority that he loves Otter Pops.”

“Me too,” Dutton announces.

“And I’m pretty sure Alexander the Grape is his favorite.”

“Me too!”

Noah rakes a free hand through his hair. “I know Dutton already had ice cream tonight, but …”