Page 69 of Best I Never Had

I sit up, tucking my feet under my butt as I face the TV to make my selection. As I’m scrolling through my options, my mind made up on watchingLove Actuallybefore Hayden protests, Hayden clears his throat.

“I talked to my dad.”

“You what?” I know I look dumbfounded, my mouth slacked open and my eyes wide with confusion, but I can’t believe what he just told me. He finally talked to his dad.

“Uh…yeah.” He picks at a loose thread coming off his sweatpants and flicks at it, avoiding my eyes. “Pat called him because of my promotion, and he called to tell me he’s proud of me. And he mentioned he wanted me home for Thanksgiving.”

“Hayden,” I whisper, a smile cutting into the shock on my face. “That’s amazing.”

When he finally looks up at me, he smiles. His eyes curve and brighten, and his whole face softens, filling him with pride and hope. “Yeah,” he whispers through a breathy laugh.

I lift off the couch and rest on my knees, wrapping my arms around his neck and clutching to his shoulders as his warm arms welcome me. I feel his nose nuzzle into my neck, sending a trail of goose bumps down my back.

I take in Hayden as he is right now. Not the seventeen-year-old boy who knew a past version of me most weren’t aware of but the one who’s had to fight for every bit of his worth. As the weight of everything melts off him while in my arms, I realize just how badly this strained relationship with his dad was wearing him down. And without that added weight, I see him shift into someone more confident and prouder. Someone who doesn’t need to doubt himself but can bask in every bit of his success.

As our embrace tows into a comfort wrapped in warmth and softness and his hand runs up and down my back, my mind replays another tidbit of information Hayden just told me.

“Wait a minute,” I say, pulling away from him. “Did you say promotion?”

“Oh yeah,” he says as his arms slowly slide down my side. “Pat’s promoting me to head chef.”

“Oh my god! Hayden!” I exclaim, slapping his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He shrugs, his smile growing wider as the corners of his mouth pull apart, exposing his teeth.

“We have to celebrate,” I say, determined to mark this new milestone in Hayden’s career.

I bound off the couch, skipping to the kitchen to grab the only chocolate cupcake I purchased. After rummaging through one of the drawers for a candle, I finally find one, a single number three candle that I used for Carmen’s thirty-sixth birthday back in May. I light it before carefully walking it over to Hayden, my cupped hand cautiously blocking the breeze. I gently perch at the edge of the couch next to him, lowering my hand and revealing the flickering flame.

“It was the only candle I had,” I explain. He shakes his head through a playful eye roll before sitting up from his seat and facing me. “To celebrate your promotion and becoming a real adult, despite what I thought of you in high school.” I throw an overly exaggerated wink along with a wide grin as Iwatch Hayden break out into a light laugh. “Here,” I urge, lifting the cupcake to his face. “Make a wish.”

“You know, it’s not my birthday,” he answers as he looks at me over the warm glow of the candle.

“Just make a wish, party pooper.”

He closes his eyes for a fraction of a second and opens them before lightly blowing out the candle.

“I have some bad news,” I say, removing the candle and sucking off the frosting coating the bottom half. “You’re going to have to share because it’s the only chocolate one I’ve got.”

“Well then, ladies first.”

My already wide grin spreads wider before I peel back the liner and clamp my eager teeth onto the moist cake and creamy frosting, making sure to get an even ratio of both.

“Save some for me, Marquez,” he calls when I let out a loud moan.

“I don’t hear you,” I muffle through a full mouth in a sing-songy voice, sprinkling crumbs of chocolate cake onto my lap.

He reaches across me at the same time I lean back. My hand holds the chocolate ball of heaven hostage as I extend my arm back toward the opposite end of the couch. His body presses against me as I chew to prevent an outpouring of chocolate crumbs. When he looks down at me, now lying flat against the couch cushions, I feel a warm flush spread through my cheeks while unable to control the tightening in my stomach as I convulse through my laughter.

“Marquez,” he scolds. “You’re going to have to share.”

I silently shake my head, my cheeks hurting and hindering my ability to swallow. His large hand grips my bare thigh, my legs feeling like they’re on fire from the heat lining his palm. He gives a tight squeeze, causing me to yelp.

“Hayden!” I scream. “I’m ticklish!”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his laughter, just as warm as his touch, vibrating against me. “That’s kind of the point.”

When I don’t surrender, he gives another firm squeeze, making me squeal even louder.

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