Cadence snorted. “I’m far from independent, and you know it.”
Mark pursed his lips. “But that’s the beauty of this arrangement. You’re not supposed to be. Just like I’m not supposed to be entirely independent either. If we both were, we’d have no need for each other.”
Cadence considered this.
“But you do way more than me.”
“That’s not true,” Mark replied. “Your problem is that you wanna make it all about money. Okay then. Yeah. I make more money than you. That means I take on more financial responsibility. And I’m fine with that.”
Cadence tried to interrupt.
“Just listen,” Mark cut in. “You pull your weight in other ways, Cadence. You contribute a lot.”
Cadence shrugged.
“But you know what?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“I wouldn’t give a shit if you did nothing but lay around all day because loving you is not about percentages: I give 50 percent. You give 50 percent. That’s bullshit. My job is to love you and give to you as much as I can each and every day. Try to make it to one hundred. On my own.”
“You usually do,” Cadence said, smiling.
“Then I must be doing something right.” He winked at her.
“But I can’t let you give me your school money,” Cadence replied.
“Why? It’s mine to give to whomever I want. And I think you’re being pretty damn selfish by not accepting it.”
“But you’ll own me!” Fuck, Cadence thought.
“You think that’s what this is about? Having an upper hand or holding something over your head?” Mark stared at her in disbelief. “Do you even understand the definition of a gift?”
“No.” Cadence folded her arms over her chest defensively. How could she? Everything given to her by her parents was conditional. Except her laptop.
Mark walked to the couch and squatted beside her.
“It’s given freely. No strings. No expectations. No payback.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because I love you. Madly. You’ve infiltrated my brain. Driven me crazy.” He watched her carefully. A tiny grin that played at her lips turned into a full-on smile. “You’ll have to commit me one day, you know.”
“I won’t. I’ll take care of you,” she said, reaching her hands out to him. She pulled his head into her lap and played with his hair.
“You’re accepting this gift from me,” he said.
She nodded.
“Cadence?”
“I’m nodding.”
“And I will never expect anything from you for it.” He paused. “Well, maybe one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Just love me. That’s all I want you to do,” he said.
“But I’m already doing that.”
“Then you’re ahead of the game,” he joked.
She lifted his face, made him look her in the eyes.
“Thank you.”
Cadence scanned the lobby for her freshmen orientation group. Dozens of students loitered about, chatting and laughing. They all seemed to have friends already. How? How did they make friends so quickly if they were new?
Her face fell. The panic set in instantly, and she considered turning on her heel and darting out of the building. Everything was foreign and huge and scary all of a sudden. She didn’t think she had the guts to go to college.
“You look a little freaked out,” someone said beside her.
Her face shot up and saw him grin at her. He pulled on the straps of his book bag to tighten them, then adjusted the baseball cap on his head.
“I am,” Cadence replied. No point in lying about it. She knew her face was drained of color.
“It’s no big deal,” the boy said. He waved his hand around. “See? Just a building. Those people over there? Just people. Whatever, right?”
Cadence cracked a smile. “I’m still scared.”
The boy took off his hat. “Okay. I never do this for anyone.” He looked at Cadence and then adjusted the strap on the back of his cap. He placed it on her head.
She looked at him confused.
“That hat right there is magic, okay? It’s my lucky cap. I’ve had it for ten years.”
“Oh, gross!” Cadence said playfully.
The boy laughed. “It’s been washed a couple of times in those ten years.”
Cadence shrugged.
“The point is that it’s lucky. Very lucky. And since you’re so freaked out about our orientation today, I’m gonna let you wear it. It’ll give you confidence.”
Cadence held up the cap and considered it. It was a dingy white with a faded, embroidered “A” on the front.
“How do I know you don’t have lice?”
“You don’t.”
“Sick,” she said, and scratched her head.
The boy laughed. “I don’t have lice.”
Cadence nodded and held out his baseball cap. “But don’t you want to be confident today?”
He grinned. “I thought I was already putting that out there.”
“Oh jeez. You’re one of those,” she muttered.
He chuckled. “No, seriously. At least give me some credit for talking to you first.” He looked at her expectantly.
She sported a full smile now. “But you’re just naturally sociable. I can tell.”
“Hmm. I guess you’re right,” he admitted.
“You’d talk to a wall. So it doesn’t count.”