Chapter Fifteen #2
“Yes. Yes, to boyfriends. Yes, to upgrading. Yes, to everything you said. Except the moving too fast part. That’s a no.
I don’t think we’re moving too fast.” I winced.
“But yes. To being boyfriends. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, nor have I been one.
Which kinda negates the whole never-had-a-boyfriend part, because I can’t have had a boyfriend if I’ve never had one.
Which doesn’t include girlfriends, because I’ve never had one of those before either. ”
He laughed, eyes bright, cheeks pink. “You just might be the best boyfriend ever.” He still had hold of my sleeve, which he only just seemed to realize. Instead of dropping it, he slid his hand over mine, giving a quick squeeze before letting go. “I’ll call you later tonight.”
All I could do was nod, before he was gone.
My heart was racing, my tummy now full of butterflies and jitters that didn’t feel achy at all.
Boyfriends.
I had a boyfriend.
I am a boyfriend.
I drove back to work and walked in floating on cloud nine. Dad was at the reception desk, holding a white rabbit. He took one look at me and stopped talking to Courtney.
She looked at me too. So did the rabbit, and the two clients in the waiting room.
“Deacon,” Dad said cautiously optimistic. “Everything okay, son?”
I rocked up on my toes, as if the excitement was too much for standing still. “Yes.”
“Mrs. Stevens was okay?”
“Oh yes. She was fine. She appreciated the visit.”
“Good, good.”
Courtney stood up, smiling at me, and handed over a file. “Your one o’clock.”
I read the name and turned to Mr. Sanchez and his dog, Buffy. “Come on through,” I said, gesturing to my examination room.
Dad eyed me as I went inside, but I closed the door so I could concentrate on my work. It was hard enough to stop smiling, but focusing on my patients did help.
I still hadn’t stopped smiling when Dad came into my examination room at the end of the day. I was disinfecting the stainless-steel table, which he didn’t even seem to notice. “Okay, tell me what happened?”
I tried to play it cool.
Which was futile because I’d never been cool in my life.
“You haven’t smiled this much since you beat me at D that dreaded icky feeling was suddenly back in my tummy.
“Deac, what is it?” Dad asked, concerned.
“Christmas gifts.”
I could feel the blood drain from my face.
“What am I supposed to get Winter for Christmas? I’ve never . . . I’ve never bought anyone a Christmas gift before. Well, apart from you and Mom. You don’t really count.”
“Thanks, Deac.”
“I mean a boyfriend. What am I supposed to get him? Just what does a boyfriend do for a Christmas gift? Surely there are expectations.” I put my hand to my forehead, lightheaded and panicky. “This was a terrible mistake.”
Dad sighed, put his hand on my shoulder, and looked into my eyes. “Son, it’ll be fine. We are Clark men. Well-educated, somewhat socially inept but that’s subjective, and we are nothing if not lateral thinkers. We will do what we’ve always done.”
“What’s that? What have we always done?”
“We’ll go home and ask your mom. She’ll know just the thing.” He clearly thought this was the best idea because he brightened, even raised his index finger. “She always knows.”
My mother’s advice wasn’t as helpful as I’d hoped.
I’d reasoned that perhaps Winter and I should set parameters on both monetary value and expectations. Dad wholeheartedly agreed with me.
Mom’s suggestion, however, was more philosophical.
“A first Christmas gift to someone you love should come from the heart,” she’d said.
Which was all fine and reasonable for fine and reasonable-minded people.
Of which I was neither.
How was I supposed to give him a gift from my heart? Jitters, palpitations, and an entirely weird, full, squeezy feeling were hardly something I could bottle and wrap to put under the tree.
Instead of overthinking and spiraling, as I wanted to do, I referred to the good, sometimes-misguided information on the internet.