Charlie’s face lights up. “Yeah! Do you play?”
“Do I play?” Beck scoffs, heading straight for the couch. “I’ve got a max-level Shadowblade with the Deathwhisper armor set.”
“No way!” Charlie’s so impressed that he forgets to do that weird, fake smile. The one that’s supposed to conceal his braces. “You want to play? I’ve already unlocked the Void Gate to the Nether Realm.”
“Seriously? That’s supposed to take like a month!” Beck drops onto the couch beside Charlie, who’s already handing him the second controller. “Let’s see this.”
“Um,” I say loudly, holding the plastic bag at arm’s length. “And this would be…?”
“Wings,” Beck says, as if it’s obvious. “Glad I brought a few dozen. I didn’t know if you like ’em hot or whatever.”
I stand by the door for another beat, utterly flummoxed. What the hell is happening here?
“Dad, aren’t you letting the heat out?” Charlie says without looking away from the screen, where he and Beck are already battling…something. “Man, those wings smell good.”
I close the door with a thud. This is… not how I expected this day to go. I’d never in a million years introduce a hookup to my kid. That’s a line I’ve never crossed, not even before The Incident. But it’s out of my hands. Charlie and Beck are already laughing about something in that ridiculous game.
I don’t know how to feel about this. Should I be mad at Beck for barging into my house, uninvited? As I listen to his goofball gaming commentary and my kid’s appreciative chuckles, I gotta admit that I’m not even close to feeling mad. In fact, the gloomy day suddenly feels as bright as Beck’s blond hair in the lamplight.
Is this progress? Or am I just an idiot?
Shaking my head, I carry the plastic bag into the kitchen and set it on the counter. There’s a reason I don’t date anymore. It’s too confusing. I’ve lost my faith in people, but I’m not sure I want it back.
Yet the smell of chicken wings is making my stomach rumble, and I peer into the bag—hot wings, mild wings, BBQ wings, plus six buttermilk biscuits and a container of blue cheese dressing. So I pull out some plates, napkins, and find some carrots and celery sticks from the fridge. And I pour everyone a glass of water.
When I return to the living room, Beck is showing Charlie some kind of combo move that involves a lot of button-mashing and exaggerated sound effects. “So then you hit R2 and L1 at the same time while jumping, and BOOM!” Beck demonstrates, his character on screen executing a spinning attack that decimates a group of enemies. “Shadow Vortex. It’s basically cheating.”
Charlie is laughing, his eyes bright with excitement. “That’s wild! How do you even know this stuff?”
“My roommate plays like eighteen hours a day,” Beck explains. “He’s basically fused to our couch at this point.”
Charlie cackles and pauses the game. “Are we eating now, Dad?”
I guess we are. I carry the tray in, and I try not to feel too weird about it when the two of them make room for me on my own couch.
After dinner, plus another hour of on-screen decimation, I finally convince Charlie to shut it off for the night. “You need to shower and call your mother. You told her you would.”
“All right,” he says with a sigh. He puts his games away. “That was fun, Beck. We can do it again, right?”
Beck shoots me an uncertain glance, proving he’s more attentive to my hesitation than he’d let on. “Maybe? We’ll have to see.”
When Charlie’s footsteps fade upstairs and the bathroom door shuts and the shower starts running, Beck puts his elbows on his knees. “So, um, thanks for not kicking me out. Your kid is cool.”
“He is,” I agree, still trying to process the surreal experience of seeing Beck and Charlie bonding over digital carnage. “So what’s this advice you supposedly came for? Because it seemed like you had gaming tips to spare.”
Beck’s face transforms into an expression of pure panic. “Oh shit, that part was real. I mean, not that the other parts weren’t real too. I actually do need advice. And I don’t know who to ask.”
I raise an eyebrow. “About?”
“Clay Powers found out that I was actually playing goalie that night for your team. And now he wants to have lunch with me.” His fingers tap nervously on his knee. “In two days. Like, a one-on-one lunch with the head coach of the Cougars.”
“Lunch... That’s good, right?” I ask, still not seeing the problem.
“No! I mean yes, but also no.” Beck’s hands flutter in distress. “What if he’s mad? What if he asks me something important, and I start talking about how cereal is really a soup? Because I do that when I’m nervous.”
I can’t help the smile that cracks my face in two. “Soup. Really?”
“Yes!” Beck hisses. “But that’s not my issue right now. What do I wear? What if he wants to talk about my future, and all I can think about is you naked?”
