Page 12 of Redeemed

From the pulpit, Beckham warned us about people like this.Hedonists,I think he called them. But maybe that’s yet another belief that I need to deconstruct.

“Much better things,” I echo quietly.

“Sure. Cars, sex, drugs—if that’s your thing.” He laughs when he sees the horrified look on my face. “No drugs, got it. Books, then? Or are you one of those horse girls? Maybe you like games? Ah, there we go. I bet you’re one of those cozy gamer girls, aren’t you?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, a cozy gamer girl?”

“No? I got you wrong?”

As I try to figure out what he means, I feel an involuntary frown form on my face. “Well, I usually like to have a cup of tea while I’m playing chess with my younger brother, and sometimes I wrap myself up in a blanket. So… I guess it can be pretty cozy.”

He laughs, and I get the distinct impression that it’s because I just said something stupid. “Not those types of games. Animal Crossing? Stardew Valley? Shit like that?”

I stare at him blankly. “Animal… what?”

His eyes go wide. “Seriously? You’ve never heard of those before?”

Feeling my cheeks begin to burn, I shake my head.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “I didn’t think it’d bethisbad.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, wincing at the hint of defensiveness in my tone. That type of thing would get me slapped across the face if I was speaking to Isaiah.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as his expression turns pitying. “They’re video games. Specifically, cozy video games.”

“Oh! Got it,” I say, hoping that I sound confident enough.

Video games.I’ve seen videos before—only ones Beckham or my parents approved of—but I’m not sure how one could be a game.

The boy sticks his hand out. “I’m Colton, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Haven.” I say my name slowly, trying to get used to the way it sounds on my tongue. It’s only one letter off from the name my parents gave me—Heaven—but it’s still going to take some getting used to.

“Haven,” he repeats thoughtfully. As he looks me up and down, a playful smile appears on his features. “You’re supposed to shake it, by the way.”

“Shake… shake what?”

“My hand.”

I glance down, realizing his hand is still stretched out toward me. At Cornerstone, men and women weren’t allowed to touch each other unless they were married. It was a way to ward off temptation, although I heard whispering from a select few that it only made adultery and pre-marital sex more attractive. I was never sure who to believe.

“Put your right one in mine,” he orders gently.

I do so without thought, only realizing once his fingers close around mine that I did it solely because I’ve never had the choice to disobey the men around me. Not without consequences, at least.

“There’s a whole bunch of bullshit about gripping too hard or not gripping hard enough, but just ignore all that. Do what feels natural to you, and then do this.” He moves his hand up and down, and mine follows. “Yeah, just like that. Again.”

He breaks our hands apart and then holds his out again, and when I take it, I repeat the motion he made.

Colton grins. “Look at you. Already a pro.”

“What does it mean?” I do the motion again.

“It’s a greeting. Like a hug or a wave.”

“Oh.”

I’m not really sure what to say next, but Colton doesn’t seem perturbed by the silence that stretches out between us. It strikes me that he’s talked me through multiple knowledge gaps without question. I was worried I’d be bombarded with questions when I tried to make friends, but he doesn’t seem curious.

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