Ms. Delia looks at Beck and beams before turning back to me. “Well, it’s about damn time,” she says.
Beck makes a strangled noise, and I notice his eyes get watery. Ms. Delia nods like she’s been waiting years for this exact moment.
“It is so nice to meet you,” I say with my whole heart. Because even though I was nervous, it truly does mean so much to meet the woman who made Beck human when his father would have turned him into a machine.
She grills me in her own way. Instead of asking me about my grades or what my parents do, she asks me what my favorite color is and why, if I spend much time outdoors, because she feels that touching nature is the same thing as touching God. She says the same thing about sex, which I wasn’t expecting. Sometimes I can’t tell what’s her quirky personality and what’s a potential slip of her lucidity, because she definitely says some odd things here and there. Once she asks Beck if he finished his homework. And another time she looked me in the eye and told me, very seriously, that I get my eyes from my father, but my heart from my mother. Which was weird, because it’s scarily accurate and I don’t think I mentioned my father at any point.
My favorite part of the day is hearing Beck, or Linc as she calls him, regale her with the specifics of how he shot his father down and came out to him at the same time. She hooted and clapped her hands like she’d never been so pleased.
Somehow the afternoon goes by without time passing at all, and I find myself on my knees next to her chair so this remarkable woman can “love on me,” as she calls it.
“You’re a special one, Brody Miller. You make sure my Linc takes care of you. And if he wants to do something for you, let him do it. Let him spoil you. Lord knows that child has more money than sense, but he likes to show he cares.”
“I’ll try,” I promise.
I give them a moment alone and wait for Beck in the hallway. When he comes out, he pulls me in for a long hug.
“Thank you for being you,” he says, and kisses me before pulling back and looking at me mischievously. “Ready for a surprise?”
Beck won’t tell me what the surprise is until we’re driving into Charlotte. Turns out, he booked a hotel room for the weekend.
I feel like it’s too much, but I try to keep what Ms. Delia said in mind and begin making mental plans for something I can do for him. Plus, when I try to argue, Beck mentions a massive king-sized bed and a jacuzzi tub we can both fit comfortably in together, and I’m pretty sold.
I’m confused when we pull into the parking lot of a high-end shopping mall instead of a hotel.
“Why are we here?”
“We need some things. I didn’t pack enough clothes, and you have a tragic lack of underwear.”
“Whose fault is that?”
He grins. “Exactly. Let me rectify it.”
“Does it have to be here, though? This place looks expensive. Doesn’t Charlotte have a Walmart?”
He looks aghast. “You would make me enter such a place?”
“I would record you and play it back just for the joy of watching your discomfort.”
“Rude. And not happening. Just think of it as a Christmas present.”
“Well, that’s not fair. I didn’t get you anything.”
“Brody,” he says, making my name sound like an apology and a prayer all at once. “You’ve given me everything. You gave me something I didn’t know I was missing.” He glances over, cheeks pink, then focuses back on the road. “I’ve given you almost nothing but grief and mixed signals.”
“That’s not true,” I protest automatically. “You gave me orgasms. Plural. Some pretty impressive ones, actually.”
He chokes. “That’s not—” He gives up, laughing. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I? Because I can’t reciprocate with stuff like this,” I say, gesturing to the ridiculously expensive department store.
“I can’t reciprocate shitty coffee in a church basement, or lasagna and board games, or any of what you gave me this week, and I promise you that has significantly more value. Maybe calling it a gift was pretentious. I didn’t mean it that way, really. But I’m the one who stole most of your underwear. And I knew about the tire situation, even if I wasn’t the one physically doing the slashing. So, I owe you. And I want to go into this mall and buy some things that we both need. Underwear and t-shirts, and supplies,” he says, emphasizing the word. “Just the basics.”
“Supplies?” He nods. “What, like bubble bath for the jacuzzi?”
He laughs. “That too, if you want. I meant like condoms and lube, but anything you like.”
Oh.
