She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not(16)

“We can’t afford that, Gage. Not to mention, we don’t need it.”

The look on his face—I know why parents end up spoiling their kids; it’s this look right here, the one Gage is giving me that says, “But I want it.” I bite my lip to keep from smiling at how adorable it is.

“Who doesn’t need a family-sized bag of Doritos?”

I take the bag from him, and put it on the shelf. And, then, I point to the price tag. “People on a budget. Remember, we only have fifty dollars and we’re shopping for two weeks’ worth of food, which means we would never buy name brand. That’s budget suicide. Generic,” I say, and point to the store brand cheese-flavored Tortilla chips. “I have a list, and there is nothing on there about chips.”

“Kenny, I draw the line at no chips. Generic is bad enough; I’m not living the rest of my life without eating chips.”

I roll my eyes and drop his hand to take out my list. “Good thing we’re just pretend shopping, then. Here’s our list, life-partner. We can double some things since it’s estimated for twenty-five dollars instead of fifty.”

Holding the list up, I watch his eyes focus on it. He squints, his expression a picture of horror. Finally, he grabs it and holds it up to me. “Is this is a joke, Kenny? Grains? Raisins? You want me to eat raisins again? What am I, two?”

I choke back my laughter. He’s such a drama king. Instead, I hold out my hand to take the list back. “I don’t expect you to eat Raisins—but our budget eats them, because they’re cheap and fall under fruit.”

He holds the list out of my reach. “Raisins are not fruit. Strawberries are fruit. Mangos are fruit. Even bananas are, though I have to admit, I only like them in my smoothies. Kiwi.” He snaps his fingers in front of my face as though he’s found the answer. “That’s a good fruit.”

I reach for the list again, glaring when he continues to hold it out of reach, taunting me. “First, are you even aware that every fruit you listed cannot be bought in bulk, nor can it be bought for a simple price year round? No one on a budget would buy exotic fruit. And second,” I stop reaching and cock my head at him. “Kiwis, Gage? That’s a designer fruit. I expected better from you.”

He moves so quickly that I don’t have time to react. One minute he’s in front of me, slack jawed and still, and the next I’m being tickled to death. His fingers dive into my sides, and my knees give out at the same time that a high-pitched squeal erupts from me.

“Gage, no.” I think I say the words, but my laughter is so much that it comes out sounding a lot more like a gurgle.

“Designer fruit?” he says, those fingers inching up to my ribs and sending me into anticipatory fits of giggles. My arms are clamped to my sides in a lame attempt at defense, and my knees are pulled up to my chest, smashing Gage’s arm between the tops of my legs and my stomach while he holds me up with one arm and tortures me with the other.

I’m laughing so hard, there are cramps in my stomach. “I take it back,” I hiccup. “It’s manly. Kiwi is manly.”

Gage stops tickling me. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

I’m still shaking with laughter, my legs like jelly, completely useless; he’s still holding me up like it takes no effort. “Manly. Kiwi. You. Not designer,” I sputter out.

“That’s what I thought.” Then he’s shifting, swinging me up until he’s cradling me against his chest with one arm around my back, the other under my legs. “Since that’s settled, let’s go blow our budget on some quality time together.”





Chapter 14


Week 4, Part 2: Some Beach

Gage

I have always loved the beach.

Even though I’ve always lived in Southern California, and have always had access to the water, I’ve never gotten tired of it. Sitting hip-to-hip on a sweatshirt I found in the backseat, I stare out at the night-darkened water with Kenny.

“When I said blow our budget, I meant maybe take you to dinner or the movies, somewhere I actually spent money on you.”

Kenny licks her spoon and shakes her head. “You bought the ice cream.”

“I don’t think seven dollars is going to send us into the red, Kenny.”

“Kennedy. And seven dollars for some people could mean the difference between a meal for two days and no meal at all.”

“Not the budget speech again. I’m begging you.” Her elbow connects with my ribs, and I let out a grunt. “I take it back. You can go over the budget again. Just don’t hurt me.” She laughs, and I feel it in my chest like I do every time I make Kenny happy.

I finish off my cone, and lean back on my hands, purposefully angling my body a little so my shoulder is resting behind hers, blocking her from the wind. She’s little, and I can see the goosebumps on her bare legs. “Can I ask you something, Kenny?”

She finishes her own ice cream, setting the empty cup and spoon in the sand before wrapping her arms around her legs. “You’re always asking me something, Christensen.”

“Life-partner, remember?”

She rolls her eyes. “What’s your question, life-partner?”

“Why were you so against this project? Was it because of your family?”