Fourteen
Beckham grabbed a box off a high shelf labeledRound metallic purple, 7mm.He plunked it onto the flat pushcart dolly that Will had parked in the middle of the store’s wide aisle.
“How many is that?” Will asked as he eyed a box of mini stuffed New Orleans Saints footballs with a furrow in his brow.
Beckham grabbed another box, this time of long, green throw beads instead of purple. He eyed the cart and did the math quickly in his head. “Seven hundred and twenty.”
“Get a few more cases of those,” Will said. “The group said no short beads. We have a reputation to protect.”
Beckham grabbed a box of gold-colored beads and added it to the haul. “You sure that’s not just the guys guaranteeing they get a lot of shirt-lifters?”
Beckham hadn’t grown up with Mardi Gras. Even if he had grown up in New Orleans instead of Arizona, he wouldn’t have been allowed to go to a celebration that had ties to both Catholicism and paganism. But he’d picked up the traditions pretty quickly since he’d moved here. And he knew that the longest, most unique plastic bead necklaces were often held out as bait at parades to get women to lift their shirts. It wasn’t his favorite tradition. After his strict upbringing, he was mostly a live-and-let-live kind of person, but it felt a little weird to have women flashing breasts while people’s kids were nearby just trying to get some beads.
Will smirked. “That’s definitely some people’s motivation, but even the women don’t want the cheap stuff. Plus, we’re riding in Metairie this year and not in the city, so it will be more family-friendly.” He held up one of the footballs. “You think I should get these? Might be fun to throw.”
Beckham shrugged. “Sure. It’s not my money.”
Will grabbed a box of them and stacked it on top of the cases of loot already on the cart. “This is going to be fun. I know you’ve been to the parades, but it’s a whole different experience riding on a float.”
“I appreciate the invite. Seems like a New Orleans bucket-list item,” he said.
Will had asked Beckham a few weeks ago if he’d wanted to ride with his coworkers because they’d had a few spots open. Normally, Beckham wouldn’t do anything that would put him in front of the public, but they’d be wearing masks so he decided to give it a shot.
“Yeah, man, no problem,” Will said. “I owe you anyway.”
Beckham picked up a tiny stuffed duckling in a purple, green, and gold jester hat, checking the price and then putting it back. “For what?”
Will pushed the big cart slowly down the aisle as they walked. “For introducing me to your friend Eliza. We’re going to dinner this week. We had a really good time at the party.”
“Oh.” Beckham forced himself not to grimace. “That’s cool. Glad you two hit it off.”
“We did. She’s really easy to talk to. Smart, too.” Will stopped and picked up a bag of gold doubloons, testing their weight in his hands, and then glanced back at Beckham over his shoulder. “Plus, I mean, wow.”
Will tossed the bag of doubloons his way. Beckham caught them on instinct, the coins clinking together. “Wow what?”
“Don’t give me that,” Will said, grabbing more bags. “I know you two are coworkers and she’s not your type or whatever, but you have to acknowledge she’s smokin’. Fire emojis all the way.”
Fire.Those minutes on the porch came back to Beckham in a rush—the feel of Eliza against him, her response as hungry as his, her mouth sweet and hot and tasting of sugar. Her hands squeezing his tight, like she was having to fight not to touch him in other places. The sounds she’d made…fuck. He’d had actual sex that hadn’t felt as visceral and erotic as that kiss had. If they had…Stop.That kiss had been a huge mistake, and he needed to stop thinking about it.
He dodged Will’s question and tried to shove the memory from his head. “What do you mean, not my type?”
Will gave him a come-on-now look. “I’m not saying that like it’s a bad thing. She’s just more…refined than the women I’ve seen you go for. Established, you know? Like she knows how to be in her own skin, knows what she wants, that kind of thing.”
“So I go for the unrefined? She’s the expensive wine and I’m hooking up with wine coolers?” Beckham asked, annoyed.
Will laughed, his chest-deep chuckle carrying down the aisle of the store. “Don’t get your nuts in a twist, man. I’m not saying that. You’re just younger than I am and have a type to go with that. You like women who are still in their freewheeling phase, experimenting, ones who want to have fun and not get into anything heavy. You’re the guy friend they’d call if they want to try out a threesome and need a third.”
“Fuck you,” Beckham said grumpily as he tossed the bag of doubloons onto the cart. “I’m not the threesome guy. They’d call Khuyen for that.”
Will smirked. “Yeah, you’re probably right. You don’t like strangers.” He grabbed the cart and started pushing again. “But am I reading this wrong? Are you into Eliza? Because if you’re into her, I won’t overstep and—”
“No,” Beckham said quickly.Too quickly.“It’s fine. We’re just friends. Coworkers. That’s why I didn’t kiss her in the game. I brought her to the party to meet people. That was the whole point. I’m glad you two got along.”
Will smiled, his brown skin glowing like he was lit from the inside. “Sweet. Because I’m really looking forward to the date.”
“Great.” Beckham’s teeth pressed together, his jaw flexing as he tried to regain his goddamned sense. “And you’re right, about her knowing what she wants. Fair warning, she’s not looking for hookups. She’s met a lot of assholes on dating apps and is over it.”
Will shrugged like that was no big deal. “That’s cool. I’m taking her out to get to know her. I’m open to wherever that leads.” He reached out and patted Beckham’s shoulder. “You don’t have to stress, man. I’ll be good to your friend. I wouldn’t disrespect her.”