Page 24 of Liberating Love

Delaney: I don’t mind.

Me: You really don’t have to.

Delaney: Aiden. I’m picking you up ice cream. No arguing.

* * *

Delaney:Chinese or pizza?

Me: What kind of question is that?

Delaney: I thought you might be sick of Spiced Kitchen.

Me: As if that could ever happen.

Delaney: Fine, but you’re not stealing my egg rolls again.

Me: Whatever you say, D.

Delaney: I’ll get you your own.

Me: Yours taste so much better.

Delaney: You can have your own.

Me: You know I’m still gonna steal yours, right?

Delaney: Just get your ass over here, Freckles. I’ll get delivery.

Me: I’ll pick it up on my way.

* * *

I don’t bother checkingthe caller ID because I already know who it is, so I answer my phone with, “I’m not late, am I? I’m still heating up my mom’s dinner.”

“You’re not late.”

Even though I know I shouldn’t feel this way, butterflies swirl in my stomach at the sound of his voice. I probably need to get my head examined because I know I’m playing with fire here. “Good.”

“How’s your mom?”

I pause because I don’t really talk about her, but then I sigh and answer anyway, “She’s doing good. Today’s been a good day.” I haven’t told him details, but he knows I take care of her, so it’s kind of thoughtful for him to ask, I guess. Even if it makes me uncomfortable. I sigh out loud. Somehow Delaney always seems to pull information out of me, and I don’t even know how he does it.

“That’s good to hear.”

I hum in response as I finish plating my mom’s food and grab her pills.

Delaney luckily changes the subject. “Did you pick a movie yet?”

“Still trying to figure out the best movie to torture you with after you forced me to watch the worst movie in history last week,” I respond and smile at his chuckle. When did watching a movie together even become a thing? He has a superpower of getting me to agree to shit I shouldn’t be doing.

After another few minutes of him chatting and me humming noncommittally, he says, “See you in about an hour?”

“Yep. See you soon.”

We hang up and I sigh to myself, shaking my head. How in the hell do I find myself in these positions and why the hell can’t I seem to stop?

* * *

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