Six Things Before Breakfast

10

so sorry this took so long! trying to find my rhythm back with this baby. thank you for being patient <3

*

Sanders doesn't ask for an answer when they come back from holiday break.

He spent the holidays with his family, and she spent them with hers. They FaceTimed, just because Mahika and Hathai (and Siam) were insisting on seeing her face, demanding when she would visit again, telling her to eat a lot and be careful and to "please take care of our boy". Sanders rolled his eyes but Becks only laughed and assured them that she would.

He also said hello to her parents and to her brothers, Matthew and Henry. Matthew was wearing glittering makeup, and he was in heels and a skirt, and he was absolutely stunning. Henry was shy—he didn't want to talk to him, but Sanders got him to laugh.

"It's a challenge to make you Arlingtons laugh," Sanders said, clicking his tongue.

"You do it so easily, though," Becks answered quietly. Sanders grinned.

So when they come back, they only hug for two seconds, and then they play video games, and Becks loses, pouting and whining, and Sanders slaps her on the wrist.

He doesn't ask for her answer.

And Sanders usually wakes Becks. He's up first in the morning—prays, showers, runs, buys the milk. When he comes back, from doing all of those, Becks should still be in bed.

But when Sanders opens the door and takes off his shoes, she's in the kitchen, toasting bread.

"Hey," she greets brightly, turning around. "Morning."

Sanders sets the milk down on the counter. "Morning. What's happening? Why are you awake already? You—your face is washed."

Becks gives him an exaggerated smile. "Yeah. Am I pretty?"

"Yeah, words can't describe how pretty you are."

She blinks. "Oh. Thanks."

"But numbers can," Sanders says, opening the glass bottle. "Three out of ten. Here."

Becks glares at him and takes the milk with more force than necessary. "I wanted to do something nice and this is how you repay me?"

"For me or for Maxon?" Sanders asks nonchalantly, sitting down on a stool.

Becks clears her throat, averting her eyes. "For you. He left already," she answers quietly, turning back around to face the toaster.

That stings. He tries for a smile. "Well, thanks. It's nice to just sit and watch for a change. Can I have peanut butter and—"

"I thought about what you asked me," she says, suddenly, and Sanders's words die in his throat. She turns around to look at him, and she's clutching the sink, knuckles turning white. "Um, yeah. I thought about it. Sure. Why not?"

Sanders stares at her. His head is quiet. The little Sanders up there are all dead. "What do you mean, 'sure, why not?'"

Becks blinks. "I mean, sure, I'll go out with you. Why not?"

"No," Sanders says slowly, drawing his eyebrows together. "What—what exactly do you mean by 'sure, I'll go out with you. Why not?'"

Her lips twitch. Like it's threatening to smile. "Sanders. That's exactly what I mean. Are you okay? Did your brain switch off or something?"

"Yeah," Sanders says, blinking. "But what do you mean—"

"Take me out," Becks cuts him off, shrugging.