47. Delia
Forty Seven
Delia
T he doorbell rings, waking me. The credits are rolling on the TV. I missed how it ended. Langdon grunts and squeezes me tighter. My head’s on his lap and he’s slouched down, head lolled back, arm slung over me. He’s still asleep.
It rings again. I slip out from his arm, grab the candy bowl, and open the front door. Three middle school aged kids sing trick or treat. I hold out the bowl.
“You’re costume is really good,” one of them says as he fishes his fist around in the bowl searching for the right candy.
“Thanks.”
The kids walk away and I close the door and put the bowl back down. Langdon snores lightly on the couch. He looks peaceful and really handsome. I never get to intentionally check him out. His gaze usually so intense that I have to look away, but now, I can take my time and study the features of his face. Of his body.
He’s so attractive it’s almost annoying. I memorize the little details, the line of his jaw. A A scar is partially hidden in his left brow, the way his lashes flutter as he dreams. His arms, the sinew, the veins, and taught tendons. He is beautiful. And mine. From the back of the couch, I lean down and press my lips to his. It’s a Spiderman kiss, upside down and awkward but sweet. He wakes slowly, his lips moving against mine a little and then a little more.
I smile down at him. “Hey, sleepy head.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“The doorbell woke me up. We got a baseball player, a witch, and a ghost,” I tell him.
“I meant to ask earlier…what are you?”
I mock gasp. “You can’t tell?”
Langdon’s eyes crinkle as he grins. “Dead prom queen?”
“As if. That’s so basic. I’m Meryl Streep from Death Becomes Her,” I say and pout.
“Is that a band?”
“Dude, you were really looking attractive just a minute ago but you’re starting to ruin it.”
Langdon laughs. “Sorry. Hang on. I can fix it,” he says. He pulls his phone from his pocket and opens Google. “Say it again. Meryl who?”
I tell him and a picture of the movie cover pops up and he glances back and forth between me and the movie cover image.
“Damn, you nailed it. How’d you manage the neck folds? ”
“Liquid latex. The stuff dreams are made of.”
“We should watch it. The movie I mean. Says it’s on Prime.”
I nod. “It’s funny. You’d probably like it.”
He clicks into the app and rents the movie while I snuggle up to him. “Gotta know, why are you watching movies from 1992?”
I shrug. “My mom and I watch a lot of old movies together. This one stuck with me.”
“Want a snack? I can make more popcorn.” He tosses an arm around my shoulder as the opening credits play.
“Actually, can we have the candy?”
“I didn’t take you for a candy girl.”
“What’s wrong with a candy girl?”
“Nothing, I just, I don’t know, haven’t seen you eat any?”
I laugh at his logic. “I’m a dessert-a-holic. Equal opportunity dessert eater if you will. I like it all and crave it all.”
Langdon hops up, grabs the candy bowl, and plops it into my lap before collapsing onto the couch and pulling me onto him.
We’re tangled together, arms and legs on the couch, me sort of on top of and sort of to the side of Langdon. His chest rises with steady slow breaths that I find intoxicatingly comforting.
My mind spins circles around my mother. I’m mad. I hate her. I love her. I missed her. I want her hugs. I will hold a grudge forever and I will forgive her instantly. My thoughts have no middle ground. No compromise. But instead of anxiety and feeling distraught, being in Langdon’s space makes me softer. Able to let all the feelings happen without reacting to one or the other.
The movie ended a while ago. Langdon missed the ending. The front door opens, and Anderson and his parents come in laughing about something.
Anderson, who gives zero fucks that Langdon is sleeping, sprints around the couch and drops two sacks of candy on the coffee table in front of me.
“I scored big. You’re welcome. I told everyone I had a sick sister at home and literally got double the candy!”
I push myself up and from Langdon with a grin. “Wanna dump it out and sort it? Maybe we can trade some stuff?”
Langdon’s dad smiles at me warmly.
“Yeah, okay. Olivia and I used to do that, too.” He picks up his sack, and drops to the floor cross-legged. My heart pangs in my chest. Of course, he would have done that with his sister.
I sit next to him and dump my bag on the floor next to his and begin sorting what he collected. He really did get a lot. And a lot of it isn’t even snack-sized.
It’s well after ten, and Anderson and I are in a heated debate about the Snickers situation. We both want them. Langdon’s parents are in either armchair watching how this will play out. A hand shoots out from behind me and snatches all of the Snickers pile away.
“Hey!” I squeal .
Anderson laughs.
Looking behind me to the couch, Langdon shrugs, unwraps one, and pops it in his mouth.
“They’re my favorite and I’m sick of listening to you two bicker over them.” He unwraps another and eats it. I leap up, pulling Anderson with me, and pounce on him.
I pin one of his arms down. “Get those back,” I say. Anderson tries to pry Langdon’s fingers open but isn’t strong enough. I can’t let this stand. The Snickers must be rescued.
“His neck,” his mom says laughing. I look to her and then to Langdon who shakes his head in warning.
“Sorry,” I say before I wiggle my fingers where his neck meets his collarbone.
Instantly Langdon relents, curling up in the fetal position and trying to swat away my hand while simultaneously snorting and laughing like a maniac. Anderson squeals in triumph as he reclaims all the Snickers, which distracts me. Langdon moves quickly, hurling himself upward until I’ve lost my balance and now he is on top of me.
“That wasn’t fair Mom,” he says glancing at her.
“Couldn’t help myself,” she replies.
He pokes his fingers into my sides, then my armpits, then my neck. I squirm and laugh and lose my breath. I am so ticklish it hurts and he’s going for all the spots. Anderson leaps onto his back, wraps his arms around Langdon’s neck and tries to yank him off me.
After what feels like an enormously long time I’m certain I might actually pee myself on my boyfriend’s couch, Langdon relents. I’m still heaving, short on breath.
“Cheater,” Langdon says to Anderson.
“Hey, we were in negotiations for those Snickers so I had to protect what might have been mine.”
“You can have them, Anderson, for helping me.”
Anderson’s smile stretches ear to ear before he sticks out his tongue at his brother and drops the Snickers in his pile.
“I hate to be a party pooper, but it’s pretty late,” Langdon’s mom says.
“Can I stay here tonight?” I ask sitting up.
She gives me a regretful look and I know the answer is no. “Not tonight, Delia. I think you should sleep at your house.”
I pout but nod.
“Come on,” Langdon says reaching for my hand. “I’ll drive you home.”
I take his hand in mine and let him help me to my feet.