We cleaned up after our kitchen romp. I made sure to give the floors a little wipe down, and Beckham made sure to watch me as I crouched, still butt-ass naked and somehow still horny.
But our breakfast was calling. We finished cleaning and sat down to eat the delicious spread Beck had prepared for us. It wasn’t a terrible setup if I were being honest. He served me a tasty plate in the mornings, and I served him my tight ass in return.
A win-win situation.
We ate and talked about nothing in particular, time still shooting by in a flash like it always did when Beckham was around.
As we washed the dishes, I glanced at the clock and realized we were already pushing into the afternoon. Our breakfast had turned into a brunch.
“Shit,” I said.
“Huh?”
“I’ve got to do some work before we go to dinner.”
Just mentioning dinner shot my nerves right up to the ceiling. My shoulders tensed, even though my body still felt like a big bowl of cherry-red Jell-O (the best kind).
Beckham didn’t seem bothered at all. “Go get it done, I’ll handle the dishes.”
I finished drying up a cup and set it back in the cabinet. “Thanks, babe.” I went in from the side and wrapped my arms around him for a warm hug, kissing him tenderly on the arm. “I love you.” I looked up into his glowing green-and-gold eyes. “And I’m sure my parents are going to love you, too.”
“I really hope so,” Beck said, trying to veil it as a joke with a laugh. I could tell he was being real, though.
“They will. Just remember: my mom loves to talk about Dance Moms and Big Brother, and she hates injustice. My dad loves beer and watching hockey, and he hates climate change. Got it?”
Beckham laughed, this one sounding much more genuine than the last. “Got it.” Beckham planted a kiss on my forehead. “Go get your work done.”
I left Beckham in the kitchen and disappeared into the bedroom. Instead of opening up the bookbag for my notes, I went to the computer and opened up my email. A couple of new messages sat at the top, highlighted in bold: Jonah, Fox, Andrew Barker, Holly.
I ignored all of those and opened the most recent message, the sender’s name Dee Klein. The subject of the email read “RE: Would love to have you perform at an event I’m throwing!”
A smile grew on my face as I read the reply.
Beckham had no idea what was in store for him, and I freaking loved it.
Jesus, Mary, and Holy Mother Katy Perry, life is so damn good right now… nothing better ruin this, I swear to Christina Applegate.
30 Beckham Noble
The sun clung to the sky above us, throwing its last rays of sunshine before it disappeared for the night. A strong and sweet scent of blooming flowers filled the air as we walked the cobblestoned path up to Oliver’s parents’ house. On either side of us was a row of immaculately cared for colorful flowers, a yard of lush green grass stretching out beyond it.
The house was the biggest one on the block, with a massive front yard and a balcony for each of the bedrooms on the second floor, two of them being on the front of the house. I began feeling slightly intimidated. I hadn’t “met the parents” in… well, bloody hell, I couldn’t even remember.
Oliver’s hand squeezed mine as we came to a stop at the front door. He looked dashing with a fresh new haircut, wearing a light-blue polo and gray pants, the shirt only serving to make his eyes pop like gems. I opted for a little less color, wearing a gray button-up shirt and a new pair of dark jeans.
Oliver had given me a rundown. Told me how his father was a heart surgeon and could come off a little distant at first, but should slowly warm up. And that his mom normally loved everyone she met, and that she’d be the one to break the ice if any formed.
And still, I felt nervous. I hoped Oliver couldn’t feel how clammy my palms were getting. This was such a huge step in our relationship. If it went south and I didn’t get along with his parents, then we could be facing a very big roadblock.
Oliver turned to me before he pressed the doorbell. “Just be yourself. It’ll all be fine. NBD.”
“NBD?”
“No big deal.” Oliver smiled as he planted a kiss.
The doorbell rang. We didn’t wait long for the lock to click and the door to swing open. Oliver’s mom stood in the doorway, smiling wide as she took Oliver in for a tight hug. I could see Oliver in her face. They had the same nose and the same light hair, his mom’s a little more blonde than Oliver. They shared the same positive energy, too. I sensed that right off the bat as she let go of Oliver and turned to me, the smile still taking up most of her face causing her glasses to lift up.