Six Things Before Breakfast

25

"I have news!" Sanders shouts as soon as he enters his house, raising his palms up in the air. His mothers look up briefly from the intrusion during lunch, and Siam doesn't even bother, concentrates on his rice, but Sanders doesn't care because his stomach is still swooping with butterflies and he feels like—he feels like a lighted-up Sketcher. He clears his throat and proudly declares, puffing his chest, "I'm fucking and dating Becks."

He sees the moment Siam's head snaps up and his moms' eyes go wide. Hathai sputters, "Sanders. The kid."

"Oh, sorry." Sanders runs behind Siam and puts his hands on his shoulders. "I'm fucking and dating," Sanders says, and then he covers Siam's ears, "Becks."

Mahika drops her utensils, and a sound close to a whale mating call makes her way out of her lips, and she's grabbing Sanders in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh my God, honey! Is it finally—you guys are finally together?"

Hathai dances a happy dance before she joins in on the hug. "I knew it—I knew it!" she screeches, grinning from ear to ear, raising her hands in the air. "The wedding is back on!"

His moms are, well, ecstatic, and Siam is frozen in his seat, sulking, but he'll get over it (he never stood a chance with Becks, anyway), and he and Becks haven't actually...fucked yet again. (He would like to. Becks would, too, but no rush.)

After her match, they just stayed in bed after Becks's much-needed shower and change of bandages, and Sanders is holding her hand and staring at it to make sure what just happened was real, because...because how do you act around the person you've loved for three years and now loves you back? What do you do? How do you process—

"Can you stop thinking for one second?" Becks whined, throwing her leg over his waist and snuggling in deeper into his body. Her head was on his chest, and his heartbeat was embarrassingly loud. "You're making it weird. Don't make it weird."

"Sorry," Sanders breathed out, hesitantly lowering his arm onto her back, caressing her hair. He swallowed thickly and stared straight ahead. It's his third mental breakdown and it's not even five o'clock yet. "I just—is this real? Is this happening? Am I in a fucked up dream?"

Becks leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. "Did that feel real?"

"No, do it again."

His best friend (girlfriend???) laughed. She propped her face up on her fist and stared at him. "What are you so worried about?"

Sanders inhaled sharply and looked away from her, focusing on the sheets. "I don't know," he muttered honestly. "Just...won't it be awkward? I'm your best friend."

"You still are," Becks agreed, nodding. She sat up, and her eyes shined with amusement. "And you ask that now? After three years of hitting on me?"

"Exactly! I mean, what do I now that you actually...love me back."

Becks chuckled. "We're still best friends, Sanders. The only difference is, now that we're together, you can kiss and fuck me whenever and wherever you want."

Sanders choked on his breath. He leaned over, coughing, and punched his chest with as much force as he can. "I don't know which of that statement I need to unpack first," he choked out, glancing at her. Swallowing hard, he squeaked, "We're together?"

She was grinning. "We aren't? I thought the declarations of love and the making out in the arena cleared it up. No going back, remember?"

Sanders made a dying sound. "And the, um, the kissing and the—"

"I have to make everything obvious, don't I," Becks muttered, rolling her eyes. She put her hands on his shoulders and straddled his waist, and Sanders gulped, sitting up against the headboard, and she leaned down and kissed him. (And teased him over his boxers, and Sanders, embarrassing as it was, had to give her a hug to stay still, biting her neck, whimpering in her skin.)