So I was watching Say Yes to the Dress yesterday and Corbin Bleu and his fiancé (now wife) Sasha Clements were on it and when they asked how they met Sasha said they met in a grocery store and she kind of recognized him, and figured he was an acquaintance whose name she had forgotten. So she goes “Hey!! How are you?” and they chat for a bit before she realizes that she knows him because he’s famous.
Bitty was rounding the end of the cereal aisle, rechecking the grocery list to see if he’d gotten everything and wondering what was wrong with the state of public education in New England that none of his roommates had apparently learned basic penmanship, when he ran into someone.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” he exclaimed, and suppressed the wince as his accent reflexively came out full force. (It was partly the apologizing, and partly that he’d learned people were more forgiving if they thought he wasn’t from ’round here. He’d decided to embrace it; if he couldn’t get rid of the accent, it might as well be good for something.)
“No, no problem,” said the person, and then Bitty actually looked at him and felt that familiar terror of countless small-town grocery runs with his mother, where they ran into someone that he knew he was supposed to know, but could not place for the life of him, let alone remember an actual name.
“Well, hey!” he exclaimed, racking his brain frantically for the reason this guy looked so familiar. Surely he’d remember someone who looked like that. Lord. There was nothing, though, so he let autopilot take over. “How have you been?”
Tall, Dark, and Handsome blinked at him. (How could Bitty have forgotten eyes that blue? What even was wrong with him today? This was ridiculous.) “Uh, okay, actually. Yup. Everything going well.”
“Well, that’s great!” Bitty glanced at his list again. “Hey, can you read this? I genuinely can’t tell if this is supposed to be English.”
The guy obligingly took the paper from him and squinted at it. “Provolone, I think.”
Bitty took the list back and stared at it for a second. “I think you’re right. Honestly, Holster.”
“I was just heading toward the deli myself.”
“How perfect! I really kind of hate shopping by myself? But this was just supposed to be a quick in and out, or at least it was until I realized I apparently live with chickens in human guise who never learned to write properly.”
By the time Bitty and The Guy checked out and parted ways half an hour later, Bitty still hadn’t recalled his name, and by then it was clearly too late to admit it.
Oh well, he’d probably remember later, when he was trying to fall asleep.
“You know,” he called pointedly from the kitchen, “y’all could make yourselves useful and help me put all these things away.”
“Yes! Bro! Did you see that pass?” Holster yelled instead.
“Beauty,” Ransom answered, and then there was the sound of a high-five.
Bitty sighed and stuck his head around the corner to see what they were yelling about now.
SportsCenter, as usual, was on, playing highlights from the Falconers’ game the night before. As Bitty watched, it switched from the on-ice play to an intermission interview.
An intermission interview. With the guy from the grocery store.
“Oh my god,” Bitty said for the second time that day, hands to his cheeks, which were indeed burning up.
Holster looked over at him in concern. “Bits? What’s wrong? Why do you look like a tomato?”
“I just spent half an hour casually grocery shopping with Jack fucking Zimmermann because I thought he looked familiar and I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t place him. Oh my god, I could just die.”
Ransom and Holster exchanged glances and then they were on him. “No shit! What’s he like? What did he buy? Tell us everything!”
“I can never shop there again,” Bitty said faintly.