Rayne & Delilah's Midnite Matinee(55)
“What are you talking about?”
“You know. Spanking. Fighting.”
“Spanking’s not a form of fighting. There’s no spanking in MMA.”
“Yes, there is.”
“I would know.”
“Then how come when I went to your fight, one of the fights ended in an absolutely devastating spanking?”
“Liar.”
“I’m not. One fighter put the other fighter over his knee and spanked him until he cried and said he wanted to stop fighting.”
“How’d I miss that?”
“Same way you missed this.” I turn around slowly, holding his book like a game show host.
His face gleams. “Yes!” He reaches for it. I pull it away. He reaches again. I pull away. He stands with his arms at his sides, looking crestfallen in the way of someone whose spoon fell into their soup. I extend the book to him. He reaches for it. I pull it away and boop him on the head with it.
“Too slow.”
He feigns deep sadness and turns, his shoulders slumped.
“Awwww, here.” I come around in front of him and hand him the book. We laugh. When he takes the book, our hands touch and he lingers for a beat or two longer than necessary.
We stroll the aisles, browsing. This is our first bookstore date, and I’m deeply enjoying the look on Lawson’s face. There’s an unguarded softness to it. He keeps turning his (extremely thick) book over and over in his hands. Where did you come from, you surprising boy? How did this happen?
“Where do you think Bermuda is, by the way?” I ask.
He looks at me like I asked him if we should drop our pants and start pulling books off the shelves using our butt cheeks. “Bermuda?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Random.”
“Just guess.”
He goes for his phone. I grab his hand. “No cheating.”
“Uh. Like by the Bahamas.”
“Nope.”
“By Jamaica.”
“Nopers.”
“Where?”
“There’s seriously no place on earth that’s less where you think it is than Bermuda.”
“Can I cheat already?”
“Now you can.”
He gets out his phone and looks. “What?!”
“I know.”
“It’s like in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.”
“I know!”
“It’s basically on the same longitude or latitude or whatever as North Carolina.”
“Yep.”
“That blows my mind.”
“The world is a magical place, dude.” Filled with things you weren’t expecting.
I pull a book with an interesting cover off the shelf and leaf through it.
“You wanna get something for your drive this weekend?” Lawson asks. “Orlando’s far.”
“Nah, Delia and I’ll talk and listen to music.”
“What is it you’re doing down there again?”
“Going to ShiverCon. Meeting with this big TV producer and director named Jack Divine.”
“That’s amazing.”
“I hope so.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You sounded sad there.”
“No.” Every time I think about what’s at stake from this meeting, it makes me nervous and sad. I guess my voice betrayed me.
“So this TV guy might make you guys big time?”
“Hopefully. Or at least bigger than we are now.”
“I hope you’ll still let me on the show to break boards even if you become huge.”
“I mean, obviously.”
We meander through the store. We aren’t even looking at books anymore. We’re just being together. Our hands brush and we smile at each other, maybe each thinking the other did it on purpose.
“Do you…wanna come?” I blurt out. Hey, mouth, check in with brain first next time?
He turns to me with a look of pleased incredulity. “What, like, to the con? In Orlando?”
“If it’s okay with Delia. I gotta check with her. But yeah.”
“Where would I stay?”
“Delia’s mom got us a hotel room. You could stay there with us.” My heart churns in my chest like a turbulent spot in a river. I’m sweetly adrenaline-sick in my lower belly. “If your parents would be down. It’d be totally innocent.”
“Yeaaaah, my mom’s religious enough that she might not be down.”
“She left us alone in your room with the door closed.”
“True, but I guarantee she thought there’d be no way I’d want to get romantic right after I lost a fight.”
“Get romantic? That phrase stresses me out so much.”
“Whatever. Insert any phrase you want.” Before I can speak, he sees how he left himself open. He raises a finger. “Don’t.”
“What? I wasn’t gonna.” (I absolutely was gonna.) “You were gonna.” Lawson appears to be running calculations. “I could tell my parents I’m going to a training workshop in Orlando and staying with some other fighters.”