Sugar Across The Hall | J. H.

III.

♫- Airplane Mode, By My Side

What about this particular shredded cheese is mexican?

You examine the store brand and the name brand's "mexican style shreds" closely, trying to see if the name brand is worth the extra two dollars it has the audacity to charge you.

Cheese is cheese, you decide, before dropping the store brand cheese blend into your red shopping basket.

Drawing from your mental grocery list, you realize that the last thing you need to acquire is meat, quickly swiveling your head to try and find directions in the store that will lead you to ground beef.
You wander aimlessly, looking like a tourist in the middle of the store as you stroll past aisles. A part of you misses the familiarity of your home grocery store; at least they had the meat and dairy next to each other, you know, like a normal store would.

A sliver of a wall of red catches your eye, and you sigh in relief, heading towards the wall of cow products by cutting through an aisle.

But before you can think twice, his name leaves your mouth as you register the side profile standing ahead of you.

"Joshua?"
His head of sandy brown hair perks up, searching for a face to attach the voice to. It takes a second, but he recognizes you, taking in your bundled up attire.
"Hey neighbor," he says cheerily, turning to face you with a smile that warms you from the inside. Paired with his bright demeanor is a ribbed cream sweater and light wash denim, half covered by a tan trench coat. He reminds you of the caramel frappés they sell at the corner coffee shop near your apartment.

"I didn't know you shopped here." You survey the aisle you're in and aren't surprised you've found him deep in the baking section. Something close to a sigh leaves his pink lips.
"It's the closest supermarket," he laments, taking a jar of molasses off the shelf as your eyes widen.
"It is? But it's so far from home..." You mentally groan at the distance(which really wasn't so bad for the average city dweller, but you're used to your dad's SUV in suburbia); you had been hoping that your grocery store choice was just silly little ill-informed you running to what was familiar.

"I know." He turns to walk, waiting for you to follow him like a lost puppy before continuing down the aisle. "I usually wait until my friends in the building need to go so we can make an outing out of it but..." he trails off, gaze falling to the carton of eggs in his hand. You scoff and throw your head back, nearly losing your beanie from the movement.
"So you'll ask me for every spice under the sun, but not eggs?"
"That's different and you know it," he laughs, poking your side with the corner of the carton.

As you stroll through the store, you know he's right, but over the last two weeks it's hardly felt like it. Joshua's appeared at your doorstep four separate times, each for random ingredients for whatever he was baking at the time. Cardamom, nutmeg, clove, ground ginger. He ended up opening half of them. You've silently thanked your older brother for the spice assortment basket he got you as a housewarming gift; if it weren't for him, Joshua wouldn't have much of a reason to keep knocking on your door.

And it's selfish, but part of you hopes he never stops.

"Ah- wait," you stop him by tugging on his elbow, then lean over the fridge container with various types of beef. As you slide open the door to grab the ground beef, you completely miss how Joshua's eyes resemble saucers, staring down at where you had just gripped his jacket.
"Dang, they don't have 97% lean here?" Sighing, you settle for 80% and toss it into your basket, before looking back at the man with pink-tinged ears.
"I know, that's such a bummer," he quickly responds, folding his arms into his jacket with a nervous chuckle. You raise an eyebrow, and he nods towards your basket.