Trust me; I know it's insane.
I brush right past you, completely unaware. Pineapples, I'm looking for pineapples. In and out, that was the plan. I've already gotten started too late. The store is way too packed. Pineapples, Pinot Grigio, and whatever Red catches my attention today. That's all that is on my list.
Of course, it's almost impossible to stick to the list. So, I'm none too surprised when my small basket is digging into my arm, weighed down by Chex mix, blood orange soda, salsa, chips, and of course, my pineapples and wine— two more bottles than planned— might I add.
I turn the corner and run right into a blockade of bodies. This is why I come early. This basket will have to go on the ground as I silently plea for the line to move quickly.
My eyes are stuck on the red indentations in my arm from the basket, but everybody else's eyes are on you. If you notice, I can't tell. Your presence is enormous. And when I look up to find what has everyone so amazed, I see your eyes are on none other than me.
It's like you don't even notice the suffocating attention, but your unrelenting gaze would notice if I breathed wrong at this moment. "I think you've caught the attention of quite a few people here." I gulp, and my words come out labored.
You shrug. Shrug! I'm not sure why the gesture makes me irrational. Are we really going to ignore what is happening around us right now?
"Quite the groceries you have there." You glance down briefly at the four wine bottles threatening to spill out of my basket. Okay, I must admit this looks a little bad, but the food is there. It's just hidden under, well, the wine. Whatever. You should probably spend less time minding my business.
"You from around here?" You smirk, and the challenge in your eyes nearly unnerves me. The line begins to move, and I kick the basket before me. I'm not picking it up until I absolutely have to.
"Need help with that?" The patronizing hue of your voice sets me on fire.
"No!" I answer defiantly, silencing the growl threatening to leave my lips as I pick up the basket and rest it on my forearm.
Your laugh as I huff in frustration is warm and not at all condescending, which only angers me further. Your presence is not only enormous, but it's also infuriating.
"And no, I'm not from around here. Just ended up here after school." I square my shoulders and look right into your eyes. "Nothing all that great around here, if you ask me."
You smile. Ear to ear, it lights up your entire face. "So you say." And as if this entire interaction hasn't been torturous enough, you dart your tongue out, wetting your lips. You've got to be kidding me.
Also, if it isn't painfully obvious, my silent plea fell on deaf ears. This line is barely moving. I glare at you for a second longer before turning around in a huff. I pull out my phone and look at absolutely nothing, but hopefully, it's enough to keep you off my back.
Honestly, who am I kidding? You tower over me. I'm sure you can see me aimlessly scrolling on Twitter. I close out of the app losing all interest in continuing this charade.
I glance at the background on my phone. I should change it; I know I should. Life looks so much different than it did two short months ago, and I still can't understand it.
"Football fan?" Your voice sounds from behind me. How are you still here?
"What gave it away? This photo of me inside of a football stadium?" I turn around, waving my phone in your face. Somehow, I'm the crazy one here.
I see as you chew on the inside of your cheek, biting back a smile. How are you so entertained and me so enraged? What is happening?
"You make it to games often?"
"Not as often as I'd like." I readjust the basket on my arm, hoping my face doesn't betray the brave act I'm putting on.
"Shame." You run your hand down your arm that's covered in tattoos, stopping to massage right above your wrist. The exact spot on my arm that's probably now permanently a shade of red. You're taunting me.
"Let me guess. You're a fan of the team here. Shame. They're honestly awful."
You bark out a laugh that causes butterflies in my stomach. Why is my body doing this to me? Why am I responding in such a visceral manner to you?
"So you say." Your eyes sparkle when they look at me. I hope you see red in my eyes because that's how I feel.
"Next," a soft voice calls out, finally!
I waste no time rushing to my register, practically shoving my basket at the poor cashier. I need to get away from you. In the distance, I can hear excited voices as they speak to you. Of course, you respond in kind. I slide the lady behind the register my ID, and it takes every fiber in my being not to glance back at you. Who the hell are you?
The commotion around me stops, or maybe it doesn't, and I've finally checked out—from you. I tap my Amex on the card reader and silently curse myself as the lady hands me two of the heaviest bags I've ever carried.
Naturally, despite me having a big pile of nothing and you having an entire cart of groceries, we finish at the same time. Cheers!
"You need help with that?" Your voice is so close I can feel your words tickle my spine.
"You're awfully persistent." I whip around, startling us both. I hope you're as committed to ignoring the clank of the bottles as I am.
"Beats being stubborn." You lean in and whisper before pushing your cart past me, leaving me standing there looking, well, no need for me to describe it. You get it.
I readjust the bags on my arms and head to my car. Next time, I'll come to the grocery store first thing in the morning like I planned. I won't get stuck in line. There will be no you.
You're still walking by the time I make it to my car. Ordinary people look for the closest space to the door, but of course, you'd find the furthest possible spot.
Whatever, not another second of my time will be spent thinking about you. I turn up my music before backing out of my parking space. Usually, I'd go to the left, but you're to the right. To the right, I go. I don't want to talk about it.
I slow down just as I'm passing you, and you finally come to a stop. Now I see why you're in the furthest possible space. That's a nearly half-a-million-dollar car you're loading groceries into. You have got to be kidding me.
Who on earth are you?
You turn back to me and wave because, of course, you would. I quickly slide my sunglasses on because maybe you didn't see me parked right in front of your car, gawking at you.
My phone rings, and I should answer him because we're trying to figure this out. But you see, I've got a whole new problem now. I'm trying to figure you out.
I told you guys I'd give you my original direction for It's Time. Well my life got a little chaotic (when is it not lol)! One absolutely beautiful pregnancy and healthy baby girl later, I'm finally ready to deliver a reimagined version of my first story on here. I hope you guys enjoy 🫶🏼.
