ME: You mean I’ve lost the chance to have the toilet seat stay down?
DYLAN: I left it up one time, Pinky.
ME: This week.
ME: I almost drowned in the toilet this morning.
DYLAN: I know. You woke me up screaming. A slight overreaction, no?
ME: That water was cold. I was half asleep. Why don’t I shove you down the toilet so you can experience it for yourself?
DYLAN: I’ll take a pass on that.
DYLAN: I’m about to go to the grocery store. Do we need anything?
ME: I need tampons.
DYLAN: No. You’re nowhere near moody enough for that.
I took offense at that.
DYLAN: And you haven’t cried at the milk yet this week so I know it’s not that time.
ME: OH MY GOD STOP BRINGING THAT UP
DYLAN: Unlikely. I’m just mad I didn’t video it.
ME: You’re such a dick. And to think I was going to cook for you tonight.
DYLAN: Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What do you need?
ME: Zucchini, parmesan, butter, heavy cream, and chicken boobies.
DYLAN: I cringe every time you call them chicken boobies.
ME: I know. It’s why I do it. : D
DYLAN: You’re hard work. Anything else?
ME: Yes. Tampons.
DYLAN: We’re done here.
***
I turned my key in the door and pushed it open. The apartment was warm and toasty, a notable difference from the frozen tundra that was outside—and might as well be the hallway—and I scurried inside into the warmth.
I kicked the door shut behind me and reached up to untangle my scarf.
And was hit in the face by a box.
I screamed, jumping back against the door with a swift yank of my scarf to protect my face. Dylan’s laugh echoed around the apartment, and when I pulled my scarf down, I glared at him.
He was bent at the waist, laughing almost hysterically at me.
I did not think it was funny.
“What the hell, Dylan?” I fumed. “Why are you throwing things at me?”
Still laughing, he pointed to the box on the floor.
I glanced down. Tampons.
He’d thrown a box of tampons at me.
I looked back up at him and ran my tongue over my lips, hoping my eyes conveyed the lack of amusement I was currently feeling. “You could have taken my eye out.”
Dylan straightened up, still wheezing out a few chuckles. “But I didn’t.”
“Why would you throw tampons at me?”
“Payback for making me buy them!”
“Oh, my God.” I finally unwound my scarf and hung it up. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it! It was a joke!”
He shrugged and walked into the kitchen. “It was an interesting mix. The girl in the aisle told me I should pair them with donuts and chocolate because the courgetti wasn’t cutting it.”
“It’s zucchini. We’ve been over this.” I paused midway through unzipping my coat. “And…?”
“And what?”
“Did you buy the donuts and chocolate?”
“No. It was just her trying to get more sales.”
I hung my coat up and sighed. “No. If you’re buying sanitary products, you have to buy sweet treats. That’s how this works.”
“I don’t intend to make a habit out of buying sanitary products,” he said dryly, shooting me a look. “So don’t encourage it.”
“Oh, no.” I kicked off my boots and put them on the shoe rack. “I am so making you buy them. Every month. That’s like at least one pack of pads and two to three different sizes of tampons.”
“They do different size tampons? Aren’t they one-size fits all?”
“No. They’re not socks, Dylan.” I fought back a smile. “Besides, it’s less about the vagina and more about the—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—Flow.”
“I said don’t say it.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Flowwww,” I said, drawing the word right out. “Flow, flow, flow, flow, flow.”
He held up his hand and walked past me into the living room. “I’m not listening to this.” He dropped onto the sofa and grabbed the remote before ramming his thumb on the volume button and turning it up.
It was sports.
I wasn’t going down without a fight, that much was for sure.
“Flow!” I yelled, skipping across the apartment to the sofa. I leaned over the back of it. “Flow, flow, flow!”
He cricked his neck, his jaw tightening.
“Flooooow,” I whispered in his ear.
“Saylor. I’m gonna flow you out the window in a minute.”
“Then you’d have to cook for yourself.” I hopped over the arm of the sofa and sat down next to him. “What sport is this?”
He turned his head and raised his eyebrows. “It’s the news.”
“That doesn’t look like the news.”
“The sports news, Pinky.”
“Oh. So it’s all the sports.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be cooking?”
“I will, but I’m annoying you right now.” I grinned and reached over to the coffee table where I had a book I was halfway through. It was a new release, a paranormal mystery, and I was kind of into the cute little love triangle.
A detective or a cocky elf.
It was of no surprise to anyone that I was rooting for the elf.