Defenseman No. 9 - Xavier Neal Page 0,64
in my voice continues as I rattle the box in front of him, “you can totally eat them without any guilt.”
Hugo tilts his head in a sarcastic nature.
“That’s what fat free means.”
“That’s not what fat free means.”
“Absolutely does.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Does.”
“Doesn’t.”
“Does.”
“You know damn well it doesn’t and are picking this fight with me to either distract from the fact you are eating the entire box instead of just the serving size – something you know I’m gonna gripe about and remind you of the havoc it can wreak on your blood sugar levels by something so irresponsible – or because you want me to frown and my face to turn red.”
“Oh, if I wanted your face to turn red, Boo, I’d just offer to save half this box, so we can play a little game of find the Jujubes later.”
My boyfriend’s face becomes the crimson color anticipated, but the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip lets me know he’s open to the idea.
“Should I?” Mischievousness leaps through my gaze. “Should I save what’s left?”
All of a sudden, the house lights flicker in warning, indicating it’s time to return to our seats.
Hugo tips his chin towards the direction we need to go and begins to move that way; however, as he prepares to step past me, he states in my ear, “Definitely save them, baby.”
I lightly chuckle, close the box, and shove the remains into my coat pocket.
Post intermission, we resume our seats beside my parents. The remaining portion of the opera keeps my attention, much like the first half did, and towards the end it manages to capture Hugo’s, too. It ends a little differently than we were expecting, which leads to interesting conversations while waiting for the valet to bring our vehicles around. We both, politely, thank my parents for the night out to which they overly gush about how nice it is we’ve “finally” gotten together for a double date.
During our drive home, Hugo keeps one hand nestled adoringly on my leg, and I joyfully scroll through the comments my latest video has received.
“You’re smiling,” he casually comments.
“I’m always smiling, Boo.”
“You only smile that big when you’ve got good news about dance, or there’s a shoe sale I’m about to lose you to at Neiman Marcus.”
“Fuck…I got these fire engine red, studded sneakers from them while you were at practice yesterday. They make my legs look toned instead of pencil thin. They’re a godsend.”
“Your legs are toned.”
“Real talk, Boo. We both know they don’t look it.”
“We don’t both know that,” Hugo promptly argues. “I look at your legs and I…well, I get a hard-on at first because I start thinking about how I like it when they twist by my head, and I can kiss that B-Boy tattoo on your calf.”
My attention soars his direction, managing to catch the bashful smirk he’s displaying.
“I also look at your legs and see a well-sculpted, well-proportioned body mass ratio on display.”
“Never heard anything so scientific sound so sweet.”
His small shoulder shrug only widens my grin.
It’s a little cray that it isn’t hard for me to see everyone else’s appeal yet damn near impossible to see my own.
Wonder if that shit comes from only dating assholes who help circle your problem areas rather than kiss them and tell you they’re actually pretty amazing…
“Why are you smiling so big?”
Hugo’s repeating of the question returns my stare to the lit-up screen in my lap. “I just reached a new all-time high for number of video views. I’ve been pretty consistent with my number of followers and voyeurs – you know the ones who look but don’t follow because they don’t want whoever to know they like to spend their free time watching a dude dance around in high heels – but the video I posted today got a huge spike.”
“It’s a fucking hot video, baby.”
My head whips his direction. “You already saw it?”
“Of course, I did.” He switches lanes at the same time he announces, “I have all my shit set to notify me whenever you post.”
“Because we’re fucking?”
“Because you’re my best fucking friend and what’s going on with you always matters to me. On certain occasions, it preemptively lets me know to make a quick store run for extra apples for the ‘potion’ you’re going to need.”
The beat my heart skips is more noticeable than I’m anticipating.
“I’m sure it’s a trend or some shit, but I like the before and after style look you did. I’m not crazy about the number of dudes