Page 19 of Gap Control

I took a slow breath and reached for the yogurt with the latest date, tucked behind the front row. I liked the illusion of control.

That's when I heard it.

A clatter, a muttered curse, and the unmistakable sound of someone crashing into a pyramid of canned tomatoes.

Then a voice, low and familiar and way too cheerful for 8:37 p.m.

"Okay, those were not as secure as they looked."

I didn't turn around. I didn't have to.

The voice was unmistakable.

TJ Jameson had arrived at my sanctuary and was already talking to the tomatoes.

"Okay. In my defense, gravity started it."

I let out a quiet breath and reached for another container of yogurt. Same one I bought every week. Same brand. Same flavor. Dependable.

It would be rude to ignore him completely. I approached TJ, where he crouched on the tile, mango seltzer under one arm, while trying to steady a can of tomatoes with the other.

"Ryker," he said, like I was exactly who he'd hoped to see.

"What are you doing here?"

"Shopping." He stood and held up the mango seltzer like it explained everything. "Obviously."

I glanced at his basket. Frozen egg rolls. A king-size candy bar. Two bottles of protein water—one the color of antifreeze.

"You don't like seltzer."

"I don't dislike it." He looked at it and rubbed his chin. "Okay, I usually do. But this one's mango. I got curious."

"It's gonna taste like air that brushed past a mango once and got scared."

TJ blinked and laughed. "You tell jokes now? What's next, a spontaneous Insta reel?"

"I was hoping to get through this without being recognized."

He lowered his voice. "Did someone say something?"

"No. Just a couple of stares and slow-moving carts. Probably nothing."

TJ looked around. "I can take the next aisle."

"You don't have to."

"Didn't say I wanted to. Just that I can."

I let that sit for a second. "Just don't crash into anything else."

He raised one hand like he was swearing into office. "No sudden moves. No interpretive dance in frozen foods."

I started walking. He followed, falling into step like we did it every week.

"You're lucky I didn't bring a cart. I'm a hazard on turns."

"You're a hazard in general."

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