One card is matte black metal that looks like it weighs a ton—Theo's, engraved with his name in silver lettering. One is platinum silver metal that gleams under the shop lights—Nash's, equally impressive. Both look ridiculously expensive, the kind ofcards that probably have credit limits that could buy small cars or finance entire vacations to Europe.
They just... threw their cards. Like it's nothing. Like this is completely normal behavior for them. Like buying thousands of dollars worth of electronics is as casual as ordering coffee.
"Not a chance, Sugarplum," they say in perfect unison, their voices overlapping in a way that suggests they definitely coordinated this.
Sugarplum. Theo used the nickname. Theo—grumpy, serious, military Theo—just called me Sugarplum in a tech shop in front of a stranger and acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. My brain is completely short-circuiting.
River looks between the cards and us with an amused, knowing smile spreading across his face. "Well then! Looks like we have some decisive shoppers. Let me show you the absolute best options we have available in stock right now."
He disappears through a door marked 'Staff Only' at the back of the shop and returns moments later carrying a sleek white box that makes my heart skip several beats.
Even from across the shop, I can see the Apple logo on the side.
"This," River announces with obvious excitement and pride in his voice, placing the box carefully on the counter between us, "is the brand new iPhone 18 Pro Max. Latest release from Apple. Top of the line. It comes in several gorgeous colors, but based on your aesthetic and social media vibe, I think you might particularly love this one."
He opens the box with careful, reverent movements—the way someone handles something precious and expensive—and my breath catches painfully in my throat.
It's pink.
Not hot pink or baby pink or Barbie pink, but this absolutely gorgeous rose gold pink that catches the overhead lights andseems to shimmer like it has its own internal glow. It's elegant and sophisticated and somehow still fun and youthful.
It's the most beautiful phone I've ever seen in my entire life. It looks like something a princess would own. Something from a luxury boutique in Paris or Milan. Not something I could ever deserve or afford.
"This specific model isn't officially going on sale until next week," River explains, his voice dropping slightly like he's sharing insider information, a secret between friends. "Apple is doing a controlled early release to select retailers and we're one of them. But since you're an influencer—and a rapidly growing one at that based on what I just saw on your profile—I'm actually authorized to sell it to you early as part of our creator preview program. Apple specifically wants content creators showing off the new features and capabilities before the general public release. Creates buzz, generates interest, builds anticipation."
He smiles warmly, genuinely, like he's excited to help me succeed. "All I ask in return is that if you could give TechSavvy a shoutout in your content at some point—mention us as an authentic, reliable shop in Millbrook that carries genuine products and treats creators well—that would be more than enough compensation for the early access privilege. Fair trade?"
I nod so quickly I probably look ridiculous, like a bobblehead doll. "Yes! Absolutely! I can definitely do that! I'll make sure to tag you and everything!"
I reach out hesitantly, almost afraid to touch something so beautiful and expensive, and pick up the phone with both hands like it's made of glass. It sits perfectly in my palms. The weight feels exactly right—substantial enough to feel quality but not heavy. The size is manageable even for my smaller hands. The camera array on the back looks incredibly professional with three lenses and what appears to be some kind of advanced sensor system.
"I've never had a new phone," I admit quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, emotion making my throat tight. "Not once in my entire life. Always bought refurbished ones from sketchy sellers online or accepted hand-me-downs from people who were upgrading. Never something fresh out of the box like this. Never something that was mine from the very beginning."
River 's expression softens with genuine understanding and kindness.
"Well, this is your chance to experience it properly. To start fresh with technology that's yours from day one. And trust me, the difference in camera quality alone will absolutely transform your content. The video stabilization is industry-leading, the low-light performance rivals professional cameras, the computational photography features do things automatically that used to require expensive editing software. It's all game-changing for creators who want to produce high-quality content without needing a full production crew."
He reaches under the counter and pulls out another box—this one larger, flatter. The unmistakable Apple logo gleams on the side.
"And this," he says with obvious pride, setting it down next to the phone box, "is the matching MacBook Air in the same rose gold color to coordinate with your phone. It has the M3 chip—which is Apple's latest and most powerful processor for the Air line—2 terabytes of storage so you'll never worry about running out of space, and 24 gigabytes of RAM which means you can run multiple heavy applications simultaneously without any lag."
He taps the box affectionately. "More than enough power for professional video editing, photo manipulation, graphic design, running streaming software, managing multiple social media accounts, anything you want to do. And it'll last you years—literally five to seven years of solid performance before you'deven need to consider upgrading. Apple products hold their value incredibly well both in terms of functionality and resale."
"If you need any lessons on using either device, any tutorials or troubleshooting help," River continues kindly, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses, "you can stop by anytime during business hours. No appointment necessary. I know Millbrook is a bit of a drive from Oakridge Hollow—about forty-five minutes depending on traffic and weather conditions—but I'd absolutely make it worth your time and effort. I offer completely free tutorials for all my customers, especially content creators who are building their brands. I genuinely love helping people discover what technology can do for them."
He gestures around his well-organized shop with obvious affection. "This place is my baby. I opened it specifically because I was tired of seeing small-town folks get scammed by predatory electronics dealers. So I consider it part of my mission to ensure everyone who buys from me knows how to use their purchases to their full potential. Play around with everything, experiment, try new features, and any questions you have—no matter how basic you think they are—bring them to me."
I look at Theo and Nash, feeling emotions threatening to overwhelm me completely. Grateful and undeserving and blessed all at once.
Theo nods reassuringly, his olive-green eyes warm despite his typically stern expression. "I can bring you whenever I come to the gym for training. Three times a week like I mentioned. If you have questions for River or want to practice with the equipment in a comfortable environment, we'll make it work. It's not an issue at all."
Nash adds with a casual shrug that makes it seem like driving forty-five minutes is nothing, "And if Theo's schedule doesn't line up with your questions or you need help on off days, Gray and I can still make the drive easily. Forty-five minutes isnothing. Honestly not a big deal at all. We go on longer drives for coffee sometimes."
They're willing to drive forty-five minutes each way just so I can ask questions about using a computer. They bought me a phone and laptop that together cost more than what I used to make in months. They believe in me enough to invest this much without expecting anything in return. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve them.
I feel tears pricking at my eyes again—seems like that's all I do today is cry—but these are good tears. Overwhelmed tears. Grateful tears.
"Thank you," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for believing in me. For investing in my dreams like this. For seeing potential in me when I can barely see it in myself. I don't know how to properly express how much this means to me. Words feel inadequate."
