Defenseman No. 9 - Xavier Neal Page 0,55

we come from despite the negative beliefs of her very traditional family. As someone who has never been traditional or what someone would label as “normal”, it’s a very hard concept to wrap my mind around. Funny thing is, though…music and food make it an easier adjustment. Hugo’s fascination with the choice of ingredients for health benefits to pure historical choices for consumption have me asking Mom more and more questions so that he can have those answers in turn connecting me more and more to a part of myself I’ve long ignored. I’ve even been searching through some newer-to-me musicians I might be able to use for performance pieces in the future.

Becoming a huge fan of Jay R.

And, can we say he’s as delicious on the eyes as he is on the ears?

Oh!

He also has a “Boo” song.

Hugo actually likes that one a lot.

We even listened to it in the car on the way here.

I toyed with the idea of doing a dance video to it while bringing in the groceries, and he said if only I was pretending to carry the groceries because he could handle it on his own.

That I didn’t need to do something he was capable of taking care of.

That he would do the heavy lifting as long as I did the heavy smiling.

Real talk.

Who the fuck is that sweet?

I mean, he was sweet when we were just friends…but this is next level Tom Holland makes all of Twitter swoon type of sweet.

“Besides fresh garlic,” Hugo begins, fingers finding their way to mine, “what other fresh ingredients do we need to get while we’re here?”

“Black peppercorns and bay leaves.”

His head slowly bobs, most likely making a mental note while carefully maneuvering us around the crowd. “We can pick those up on our way out. Bri Bri’s booth is closer to the parking lot and what she brings is always consistent in quality. I don’t worry about taste when it comes to what she provides. Just quantity. Her shit sells out so fast that if I feel I’m gonna need more than two meal’s worth, I stop there first rather than last.”

“How much fucking garlic do you use?”

I’m tossed a sarcastic stare. “How often do I cook at home?”

Practically every fucking day.

And, it’s not because he’s embarrassed to take me out to eat – a fear he squashed around date three or four – but because he prefers knowing exactly what’s going into his food and, therefore, into his body. He prefers the freshest ingredients and simplest, too. When we do go out for food, he chooses farm to table shit rather than fast food. I appreciate the desire to keep a clean temple. I’ve just spent more time focusing on the outside, I guess. So, to even the program, he’s been helping cleanse my interior while I’ve been polishing his exterior. He may not care for how stupid he looks when doing a charcoal facemask, but he never fails to thank me for how much better his skin feels afterwards.

An onlooker cuts a glance at our close proximity prior to our joint hands. The judgment is met by a scowl from me that sends their stare elsewhere; however, the worry that Hugo is gonna catch on to others’ disapprovals and pull away has me tightening my grip to enjoy it before it’s, inevitability, taken from me. “Where are we headed now?”

“Fruits!”

The excitement in his expression reminds me of a puppy who knows he’s about to get a treat.

I adjust the reusable high heel-decorated shopping bag on my shoulder at the same time I tease, “You are way too excited about the wrong kind of banana.”

My favorite shade of red creeps into his complexion. “In fairness, I get really fucking excited about the other type, too.”

We share a small snicker that’s surprisingly proceeded by him pulling me closer.

“You know I’ve always loved summer fruits the most. They’re rich in the right types of sugars and pleasing to the eyes. I probably sell the highest number of smoothies during the summer and first couple of months of the semester. I’m thinking about asking Tatum to create a spreadsheet to track the data.”

“I’m sure the math beauty and Stratton both would thank you for very opposite, yet very similar, reasons.”

Hugo chuckles a bit but continues our casual stroll. “She’s been telling me that Venom’s smoothie and shake sales have been hitting some unexpected stumbles in sales. Stratton insists it’s because more and more people are coming for mine.”

“Nothing