Page 29 of Stranger Danger

“I wish my wife still bought me these,” someone to my right says.

I pull out my credit card, look over—

And stop breathing.

There’s a fucking cop putting my conversation hearts in plastic grocery bags. Full uniform minus the hat, with his walkie-talkie clipped on his hip next to a fucking taser.

Why the shit is there a cop at my store?

I haven’t stolen a banana since I was three.

He flips over one of the boxes to read the sayings and chuckles to himself. I struggle to swallow, gripping my card tight enough to indent the numbers into my thumb.

“Buy them for her,” I murmur. “They’re a fun icebreaker.”

He barks out a laugh and points a box at me. “I like you. What frat are you in, son?”

“I—I’m in Delta Tau, sir.”

“You don’t need to be formal. Call me Dave. I’m just here so y’all feel safe.” He sets three bags aside and packs another. “Is that a local or state fraternity? I was in Gamma Phi when I was your age.”

Should I be talking to him?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I need an adult.

Fuck, I am an adult.

My voice comes out even quieter.

“Local.”

“Do you like it? Not to judge a book by its cover, but you don’t look like the frat-guy type.”

I pick at the dry skin on my lips. “My brother was um…”

Stop it.

Stop acting so cagey.

“My brother was in it. I’m just a legacy, but everyone’s really nice.”

“Fifty-two ten,” the cashier says.

I tap the card on the screen and wait for the beep to tell me it went through. My hands shake as I shove it back in my wallet. I pull my sleeves over them and fold my arms across my chest to keep my intestines on the inside.

I’m not doing anything wrong. Buying six hundred boxes of candy the weekend before Valentine’s Day is still technically legal. I’ve seen some dude panic-buy thirteen dozen roses once.

Dave hands me all the bags with a warm smile. “Be safe out there, alright? Stay around your friends if you can help it.”

Stay safe from… who?

What?

Oh.

Oh, they’re talking about us.