Raze (Riven 3)

“Caleb.” Theo poked his head around the corner. “You promised!”

“I’m not grilling him, I’m being supportive!” Caleb said, with such conviction that I started laughing. Then Theo started laughing at Caleb’s very unintimidating scowl.

Dane came back into the room. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” we all said in unison.

Dane raised an eyebrow at us and walked behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders. I leaned back into his solid warmth.

Theo ducked back into the kitchen and emerged with the most misshapen cake I’d ever seen. It said Happy Birthday Huey in frosting—at least, I assumed that’s what it said; it wasn’t actually legible except in the context of a cake.

“Funfetti,” Theo announced. “Caleb said he’d never seen you eat anything sweet, so I just went with this. Figured you wouldn’t care either way. It got a little…” He frowned at the lopsided layers. “Tilted in the oven or something, but it should taste fine.”

We took slices of cake outside to the porch. The night was cool and peaceful, the rich smell of recently turned earth fresh and clean. The cake tasted exactly like I remembered Funfetti cake tasting as a kid. Dane took two polite bites and then put his plate on the table.

“Too bad Matty’s not here,” Theo said. “He’d hoover some Funfetti cake.”

I ran a finger along the frosting of Dane’s uneaten cake and licked it off, not because I wanted it but because it felt intimate to do so.

We chatted a while longer, until Caleb and Theo started to lean into each other sleepily. We left with promises to see them soon and a deliberate look from Caleb that I assumed was meant to communicate Remember what we talked about. I sketched a salute and hugged Theo, then they drifted inside and we went to the car, Dane declining to take the rest of the cake home with him.

“I seriously can’t believe we spent all day together and you didn’t tell me it was your birthday,” I said as we drove off into the night. I was full and tired and peaceful, so my rebuke came out milder than I’d intended.

Dane’s heavy hand landed on my leg.

“Sorry,” he said. He didn’t sound very sorry. He sounded amused.

“Well—well—well then, I won’t tell you when my birthday is either,” I threatened.

Dane smirked. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

Note to self: Dane calls bluffs.

“It is,” I said, crossing my arms definitively.

But then I couldn’t stop imagining Dane waking me up on the morning of my birthday, his warm arms coming around me, holding me so tightly, telling me he was glad I was born, glad I was there, with him. Glad to celebrate me. I imagined him making me breakfast or dinner or a cake, or telling me we could do whatever I wanted that day. I imagined him giving me a present, inexpertly or perfectly wrapped, and it telling me something about how he thought of me. I imagined missing out on all that warmth and care, and I heard myself whimper.

“It’s April twenty-seventh!” I blurted out traitorously.

Dane pulled over to the side of the road, threw the car into park, and kissed me passionately. I threw my arms around his neck, surprised at the onslaught.

“I won’t forget, sweetheart,” he said. Then he put the car back in drive and sped down the road, leaving my heart racing. “Want to come back to my place tonight?”

It was late and I’d have to get up early for work, but I’d left a clean Buggy’s shirt in my bag so I wouldn’t have to go home first.

“Yeah.”

When we got back to Dane’s, he paused inside the front door and looked at me almost nervously.

“Have something for you,” he said. “If you want it. Not sure if you’ll be interested, but—”

“You got me something when it was your birthday?!”

He mumbled something and shrugged.

I followed him into the living room and he flicked on the light. There, in the corner by the window, where before there was nothing, now sat a small table and chair. In a coffee can were scissors, markers, an X-Acto knife, and a ruler. On the table sat glue, a stack of magazines, and a medium-sized cardboard box with a liquor distributor’s logo on the side.

I looked up at Dane and he bit his lip.

“Thought…maybe if you wanted, you could make dioramas again. You said your place didn’t have the room and—”

I cut him off by jumping on him and throwing my arms around him. It was the sweetest, kindest thing that anyone had ever done for me. The most considerate. Dane caught me and held me to him.

“Thank you,” I muttered against his neck. “This is amazing.”

And it meant that he wanted me here, didn’t it?

“I can work on them here?”

“Yeah. Thought about what you said. On the phone. How I don’t invite you. Well…you’re invited.” He set me down and stroked my cheek, brushed back my hair. “Bet you have lots of ideas if you give it a try.”