Toward the end of May, I went to the grocery store to do some shopping. It was a Sunday afternoon and warm outside. As I walked through the produce section choosing gala apples and bananas, I almost ran into Ry, focused as I was on texting Roger, with whom I’d been spending some time—he, his boyfriend, and I. He’d sent me a funny picture and I was giggling as I typed.
“Watch where you’re going, Georgie,” Ry said as I came to a sudden halt before smacking into his broad chest.
I glanced up briefly, then looked away as I stuck the phone in my back pocket. “Apologies.” I started to go around him, but he placed a hand on my arm.
“Hey, wait up. Can I talk to you, please?”
I shook him off. “I’m a customer today, and it could be construed as flirting and completely inappropriate behavior for
