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Gideon kept her eyes locked on the jackpot: a pink-capped case nestled in the middle of the vending machine. Her shiny stack of quarters perched on top, threatening to tumble down every time the handle was turned. This was, by far, the best vending machine in town. With three compartments offering holographic stickers, giant gumballs, and other prizes, there was no way it could be beat. Not even by the one in Walmart that had the sticky hands that were always fun to smack against Pash’s face when she was feeling brave enough.
Sticky hands didn’t fit into today’s plans.
Gideon slid two quarters from the pile and carefully pushed them into the machine. Tilting her head and squinting, she still couldn’t make out the contents of the container at the bottom. These first two quarters were a sacrifice — an oblation to the universe with hopes that future capsules would be more fortuitous. She glanced quickly back towards her prize. It would take some maneuvering, but Gideon was certain she’d get the pink one eventually.
She twisted the lever slowly, her eyes darting between the metal plate of the collection slot and the quarters wiggling on top. With a final clink, the handle was back at home base and the loot dropped into the hole. Pudgy fingers darted in as quickly as they could, snatching up the capsule and popping off the yellow lid.
Her sigh of disappointment was unstoppable. As with every miracle, one could not choose how the vending machine gods answered their prayers. This ring would work if absolutely necessary — though it would be a sorry substitute for what Gideon really wanted.
Lips twisted in contemplation, Gideon examined the small golden hoop and twirled it between two fingers. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with the ring; it just wasn’t right. Metal had been formed together to look like one of Nona’s braids, smooth to touch and lustrous in the light. It was perfectly tolerable as far as rings went, but it was nothing special. Not even a stone to sparkle in the light. It simply was not good enough.
Gideon tried to tug it onto her thumb before it got caught at the first knuckle. Transferring it to her pinky, she had to admit the gold looked nice on her. If everything went well, at least it would still get some use.
The second try went better than the first, dispensing a silver ring with small clear crystals around the edges and a bright blue stone in the middle. This was definitely a contender. Slipping it into her pocket for safe keeping, golden eyes shifted over to the other machine.
All of her weekly pocket money for doing chores, a full five dollars, was dedicated to this task. Gideon had been thinking about it nonstop for the last five days, when she’d finally gotten to scope out the potentials while Pyrrha shopped for laundry detergent.
Still, a sticker was only fifty cents. Surely she could spare it.
The whirring noise of the automatic doors opening beside her was the only notice Gideon got before she was rammed in the side by a shopping cart. Her hands sprung out, bracing against the glass of the vending machine and holding on tight. Pain came fast and fierce. Not nearly as bad as when she and Pash whaled on each other out in the woods behind the apartment complex, but still sharp and stinging. Gideon knew the bruise was going to be stellar, but that wouldn’t impress Pyrr at all and it wasn’t even her fault.
Anxious apologies spilled into the air like background noise; all Gideon could focus on was the jingling of coins hitting against the floor as her allowance capsized from its precarious pile. Forget the pain in her side, the way her two toes had been stubbed by the wheel of the cart, all of that was trivial compared to this.
She fell to her knees and started plucking the coins from the floor. They’d landed in the realm of spider webs and scraps of old receipts, in dust piles left to linger where customers would never see them. Her small hands fit into the crevices as if they were designed for her. In the end, there were only two quarters that Gideon couldn’t reach: one that had spun underneath the ATM and the other that was just out of reach.
Well, so much for getting that sticker.
When soft hands brushed over her hair, Gideon realized that the woman was still there. “Are you okay, sweetheart? I didn’t mean to hit you.”
Gideon rose to her feet, brushed the dirt off her shirt with one hand, and said, “Don’t worry ‘bout me; I’m tough as rocks.” It was what Pyrrha always had said, anyway. Tough as rocks and a head full of ‘em. The lady let out a little laugh and ruffled Gideon’s hair before disappearing deeper into the store.
Seven more tries. That’s all she had left. The pink-capped case had fallen further down when Gideon had held onto the machine, but there were no guarantees that it would reach the bottom before she was out of money. All she could do was hope.
Two dollars later and only a dollar fifty remaining, Gideon had a plethora of rings to choose from. She could fill up a whole hand and still have one left. There was a silver one with a large sparkly gem in the center that reminded her of the crystal ball in the Tarot shop downtown and another that had a small golden turtle on top.
She peered back at the vending machine. The pink-cap was just barely peeking out, most of it covered by others as it dipped into the dispenser. A grin broke out over her face, revealing the gap where here tooth had popped out last week. This was perfect .
With all the grace of a winner approaching the podium, Gideon placed two quarters in and twisted the knob. She scooped out the capsule and held it into the air. Stamping her feet and twisting her hips, the redhead launched into a full blown victory dance. She’d done it.
She fished the ring out of the container, tilting it back and forth to watch how the gold band gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The center stone was pitch black, surrounded by spikes to form a sunstar. Gideon slipped it back into the capsule and pocketed the entire thing.
As she climbed onto her bike and began peddling down the sidewalk, she began to plan for the second part of her scheme.
***
“No,” she insisted, “I want to do it.” Gideon tugged at the pocket of Pyrrha’s jeans where she knew the money was hidden. Pyrrha smacked her hand away immediately, but that didn’t stop her. “C’mon, Pyrr, you promised.”
“Kid, I promised you could get Macca’s, not that I’d hand over my wallet. You mistake me for a muppet?”
Gideon stood on her tiptoes and strained her neck to look over the barrier towards the booths. No inkblots tucked into the corner or lurking around the chairs; Harrow hadn’t arrived yet. Crossing her arms and sticking out her bottom lip, Gideon turned back to Pyrrha and tried her best puppy dog eyes.
“Can I just have a tenner? I swear on Pash’s life that I’ll give you the change —”
(“Don’t swear on my life at all, assface.”)
“— but I gotta be the one to pay. I gotta show her I can support her.”
Pyrrha pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. Years of experience told Gideon she was close to cracking. It was time for the final blow.
“Ma, please. I love you,” she said. When she heard Pyrrha curse under her breath, she knew she had won.
With a fresh tenner in her pocket and her family tucked into a booth in the back corner where they couldn’t embarrass her, Gideon was fully prepared for the night. All she needed was for her date to arrive. Her sneakers tapped against the tile as she tried to shake out the nerves. Everything was going to be fine — more than fine, great even. It was going to be the best night ever, better than fireworks and cotton candy and beating her cousin at Super Smash Bros.
She scrambled back when she saw Harrow’s car pull into the parking lot. Looking too eager was so not cool. Pulling down her sunglasses, Gideon pretended to look over the display with all of the toys available.
When the door swung open, Gideon had to clench her hands into fists to avoid looking over. Enthusiasm bubbled through her veins. She could only hold onto the reins of impulse for a few seconds before she lost control. Turning quick, she nearly knocked into Harrow, but managed to grab her by the arm before they both fell.
Gideon pushed her sunglasses up to rest on her crown and let out a small gasp. Harrow was as bedazzling as the night sky in her black tulle dress with shimmering sequins that marked every inch or so. Her short hair had been tucked up behind a headband of pearls. “You look so pretty,” Gideon whispered. She tugged a bit at her nicest pair of jeans. Maybe she should’ve worn that awful scratchy outfit Pyrrha had bought her for Christmas service at church.
“Thank you,” Harrow said, ducking her head and scuffing her mary janes against the floor.
Biting her lip, Gideon looked around for a moment. Her mouth felt dry and nerves were starting to turn from butterflies in her stomach to a full blown hurricane. “Uhm,” she started, then paused to lick her lips. “Do you want to order?”
Black eyes darted up to meet hers before they turned to look at the menu behind the counter. “I haven’t had McDonald’s before,” she admitted.
Gideon’s eyes went wide and she let out an exaggerated gasp. “Never? Not ever? Oh, baby bat, you’ve been missing out!” She wrapped her arm around Harrowhark’s shoulders and pulled her over to the window. “You okay if I order? I know what you like.”
Harrow nodded. “That’s fine.”
Chest puffed out with pride, Gideon ordered them both Happy Meals. She handed over the ten dollars and pocketed the change.
Together they headed to the fountain with the drink cups. Gideon filled them both, choosing water for Harrow and fruit punch for herself. Her hand had lingered over the button for Coke, but she could still feel the weight of Pyrrha’s eyes on her back. It was too late for soda and the last thing she needed was her Ma coming over to remind her of that.
After setting the cups down a table, Gideon pulled out a seat and gestured at Harrow to sit down. A small blush was creeping up her cheeks, but before Gideon could comment on it, their order was called. She rushed to the front to grab the bright red boxes, and trotted back to her date.
“Nuggets are the best,” she said, climbing into her own seat. “You’ll love ‘em.” God, she hoped that Harrow liked them. What if she’d decided to go vegetarian in the last four hours since class ended? Gideon would happily hand over all of her fries and take over the nuggets if she needed to.
Harrow examined one like it was an interesting bug she found on the playground. Sniffing it first, she took the smallest nibble. Even her chewing was dainty. After the first taste, she must have decided it was acceptable, because she continued with a regular sized bite. “These are good. Thank you.”
Gideon sat up a bit straighter, brimming with satisfaction over the praise. “Oh, there’s a toy in there too!” Pulling out her own, she unwrapped a small stuffed cat with a bright blue rib cage and skull on the front. It was set to the side next to Harrow’s werewolf, where both stuffed animals could be an audience.
Dipping a fry into an obscene amount of ketchup, Gideon braced herself for the next part. The capsule was tucked in the pocket of her jean jacket. Though it weighed less than an ounce, it felt like the heaviest thing she’d ever carried.
She swallowed the fry without chewing and planted her elbows on the table. “Harrow?”
“Yes?”
“You know how I like you? Like you, like you?”
“Yes.” The corners of Harrow’s lips were tilting up into the hint of a smile that Gideon loved.
“Do you like me, like me?” She was pretty sure that Harrow did. They played together at recess every day and, even though Harrow was better at sounding out the words, she would still ask Gideon to read her books during library time.
“Yes, I do,” Harrow confirmed. Letting out the breath she was holding, Gideon kicked out her feet until they met Harrow’s under the table.
“Okay, cool. That’s, uh, that’s good.” She paused for a moment. Her hand was jerking about in her pocket, grabbing at the capsule and smearing ketchup over the outside. Gideon held it out in the palm of her hand, hovering just inches over their food. “Harrow, do you want to marry me? Since I like like you and you like like me?”
(“Oh my fucking god, is she for real?” a voice from the corner said, before being shushed.)
Harrow’s dark eyes had widened just a smidge as she took a napkin into her hand and used it to scoop up the container in Gideon’s. Pinning her bottom lip between her teeth, she stared first at Gideon, then down at the capsule.
Gideon’s heart couldn’t take the silence. It could’ve been fifteen seconds or fifteen years, time had ceased to exist until Harrowhark had answered the question. She felt like that time Cam had slammed her with the dodge ball during gym class, but at least then the nurse gave her a lollipop.
Finally, relief came. Harrow looked up at her with those glorious black eyes and said, “I think I would like that, Griddle.”
The capsule was left in pieces on the table and the ring slid smoothly up Harrow’s small finger. It rested against her brown skin, the gold and black declaring to everyone that she was Gideon’s as much as Gideon was hers.
Gideon wasted no time in grabbing her hand and pulling her from her chair. Dragging her halfway across the restaurant, she didn’t pause until they were at the booth in the back corner.
“Ma,” she announced proudly, “Harrow and I are getting married. She’s gonna be my wife!”
***
Gideon’s heel tapped against the floorboards as if she was keeping pace with a symphony of hummingbirds. The restless movement jiggled the box in her pocket, the light weight jostling against her thigh as her leg continued to bounce. It was an inescapable reminder of the task at hand. This was worse than the day she had to present her thesis. All she had to lose then was years of effort and a degree. If anything went wrong today, she’d lose
everything
.
Bracing her hands against the armrests, Gideon launched herself from the chair and began to pace around the room. She’d gone through her to-do list three times already, but a fourth wouldn’t do any harm.
The dining room table had a fresh tablecloth, one of the black lace ones that Harrow had inherited from her great-aunts, and the black candelabra sat directly in the middle with long wax fingers sticking up towards the sky.
Pastina was simmering on the stove. It filled the air with the scent of butter and chicken stock.
Her hair had been properly beaten into submission with a generous application of gel. Gideon glanced over to the mirror hanging above the fireplace and shot herself a finger gun. Her exterior, as usual, was nothing less than divine. It was the insides that she couldn’t control.
Her villi scratched against her intestines with a frenetic force that made her worry they were going to escape out of her belly button if this kept up much longer. Her girlfriend would come home to find her in a puddle of her own blood, trying desperately to shove the tendrils of guts back in. The Tridentarii would consider it a homage to romance, but Harrowhark would be less than impressed.
Fuck it — there was only one proven way to handle nerves like this and Gideon knew it well.
With steady steps, she stalked over to the closet where her sword was sheathed in leather and picked up her best friend. The pommel felt at home in her palm, brushing up against the familiar callouses. Her legs spread as she entered into roof guard stance, and she began fighting against the imperceivable adversaries that hid amongst the corners of the house. She swung the blade around with smooth motions, taking care not to hit against any of the furniture or walls. The one time she’d accidentally slammed the tip into the drywall, Harrow had earned the world record for biggest bitchfit thrown.
Gideon was in the middle of delivering the final blow to her opponent when the front door swung open. Goddammit, what a stupid time to get lost in daydreams.
Her hands lowered her sword until the tip was brushing against the floor, but it was still obvious what she’d been doing. Adrenaline was still rushing through her system, trying to decide if flight or fight was better in this situation.
Harrow’s lip quirked up. “Enjoying yourself, Griddle?”
One hand came to brush the back of her neck as she ducked her head down. Sweat dripped down her forehead, ruining the impeccable hairstyle, and slid down her blushing cheeks. Fucking hell, Nav, this was not how she wanted Harrow to see her. She was meant to be suave in her green button-down shirt, but that was impossible with pit stains the size of dinner plates.
Letting out a sigh, she lifted her head and smiled back. “Hey, honey. You mind stirring the food? I gotta get changed.”
Harrow hummed in agreement, walking up to Gideon and bracing one hand on her bicep. Small fingers curled tightly around the muscle as she pushed up onto her tiptoes, arching her face towards the redhead.
Even after two decades, Gideon had never learned how to deny anything Harrowhark requested. Leaning down, she brushed her lips chastely against the other woman’s, refraining from giving into the need to push into the kiss. It would be easy to fall, easy to let it morph into something more — easy to burn the food, abandon the plans, and spend the evening in bed. But she had been waiting for this day for so long. She wasn’t about to give it up now.
Gideon broke away with a final peck. She took the stairs two at a time, rushed into the bathroom, and stripped off the shirt so swiftly that one of the buttons nearly popped off. With one hand lathered and two squirts of hand soap, Gideon scrubbed down her pits. The other was busy splashing water into her face to wash away the quickly-drying sweat. It was a speedrun of cleanliness that any teenager rushing towards their school bus would envy.
It was almost a blessing that Gideon had spent nearly an hour debating what to wear, since her backup shirt was still strewn across the bed. It was black and white with long vertical stripes, and had nearly won the contest before being beaten out by the golden details on the green top. She shrugged it on, leaving the top three buttons open to show off some skin. One final spritz of cologne and Gideon was back in the game.
She took the steps slower this time. Each breath was taken deliberately, measured and deep until her lungs felt like they would burst like overfilled balloons. Every minute was bringing her closer to the end — the finality that would determine her whole future. She dodged into the dining room, taking a moment to light the taper candles, before returning to the kitchen.
The rush of affection flooded her neurons, a calming lullaby to the nerve endings she’d spent all day fraying. Harrow was peering into the pot with suspicion. Armed with a wooden spoon in one hand and the other toying with the knob on the front of the stovetop, her black eyes narrowed down at the pasta as if it was a new enemy and not her favorite meal.
“God, Nonagesimus, we’ve reached a new low if you can’t trust my cooking now. If I wanted to poison you, I would’ve done so years ago.” Gideon walked up behind her and rested a hand against Harrow’s hip, bending to whisper in her ear, “Besides, antifreeze is too sweet to pair with this. I’d hide it in the dessert.”
Harrow shoved an elbow into Gideon’s kidney and focused those brooding eyes onto her. “It is a blessing then that my palate is sated without sweets.” She spun the spoon in her hand before whacking Gideon’s, leaving behind a pasty smear. “I believe you can complete dinner without any further assistance?”
Gideon took the spoon from Harrow’s grasp, but kept her trapped. Boxed in between the stove and the solid form behind her, there was no way to escape. “No,” she said, resting her cheek against Harrow’s hair, “I gotta keep an eye on you. Who knows what hell you’ll unleash if left unsupervised? You could blow up the sun or paint every house on the block black or —”
“Throw your sword into the nearest ocean.”
“— Exactly!” Gideon turned off the heat and stirred in a bowl of grated pecorino.
Harrowhark had squirmed enough that she had managed to turn herself around, so that she was facing Gideon. Wrapping her arms around the other woman’s waist, she murmured, “Don’t tempt me, Griddle. I know what saltwater does to swords.”
Oh, to have her two true loves battling against each other — a tiny, growling banshee in one corner and a glossy blade in the other — was such a pity. Still, Gideon knew which she’d choose if the decision ever needed to be made.
“You’re a menace.”
Harrow flashed a vicious smile. “You love me.”
There was no statement more true.
“I do,” she agreed, bobbing her head. Gideon side-stepped towards the cabinets. Now was not the time for their usual paper plates; she’d even happily do the dishes if everything went right. Fetching two porcelain bowls, she set them on the counter and shooed Harrow away. “Off with you, miscreant. Dinner will be served momentarily.”
Harrow smirked; she walked towards the dining room and called out over one shoulder, “It’s so great having a servant.”
Gideon chuckled and rolled her eyes. “More like a sycophant, but sure. I’ll simp for you any day, baby.”
Finally left alone in the kitchen, she tried to brace herself once more. She took a deep breath, counted to ten, and tried to reason. What would she do if it went wrong? The glossy pasta, drenched in oil and cheese, offered no answers. There were no promises to give, no assurances that would help until the question was asked and the answer provided.
She carried the plates to the dining room, setting them down as the final meal of a prisoner. It was all Gideon could do to keep her apprehension from showing; the smile was half-way forced and half-way compulsive from just being in Harrow’s trajectory.
She watched as Harrow leaned forward to pray, keeping silent as she wrapped her mouth around each memorized word. She watched as Harrow opened her eyes, lifted her spoon, and took the meagerest of bites. She watched as dark eyes settled on her and then that perfect mouth said, “What is the cause for such a lavish meal?”
Gideon didn’t have to force her smile anymore. Propping her elbow on the table, she rested her chin on her palm and batted her eyes at Harrow. “You know when they give a dog one last good meal before they take ‘em to the vet?” She waited until she heard Harrow’s scoff and continued. “Can’t I treat my girl every now and then?”
“You always do,” Harrow said, “but I have the sense that this may be more than that.” Nonagesimus was avoiding her gaze now, keeping her eyes low and locked on her plate. Gideon caught the waiver of worry in her girlfriend’s words. The last thing she wanted to do was make Harrow feel insecure.
“Well, fuck me, Harrow. Can’t get anything past you. There is something I wanted to talk about tonight.” Now that she had all of Harrow’s attention, it was hard to breathe. Those black-hole eyes that eclipsed anything else had focused on her and left her nearly thoughtless. It was a struggle to remember what she even wanted to ask. Now she was the one looking at her plate, as if it was going to provide her help.
“We’ve been together for a really long time,” Gideon began. She was already messing this up. The script she’d spent weeks memorizing was lost in a haze and all she had left were the sparks of her two brain cells smacking against each other. “And I’d like that to be a longer time. A much longer time. I’m thinking maybe forever, if that’s good for you?”
Golden eyes darted up to look back at Harrow. Black eyebrows had furrowed together, but there was still a tiny smile tugging at her lips. That had to be a good sign, right?
Fumbling fingers fished the ring box out of her pocket. She held it in a shaking hand, bringing it up to rest on the table. “What I mean to say is: Harrowhark, will you marry me?”
The pause stretched out like pulled-taffy as Gideon’s heart fell into her ass. “Griddle,” Harrow started. Gideon knew what was coming next. She wished for her eardrums to explode, for gravity cease existing and shoot her into space, anything that would stop her from hearing no drop from those lips. “We’re already engaged.”
Hold up.
“We are not.”
“We are.”
“Harrow, I’m pretty sure I’d fucking remember if we were engaged. Did I propose while half-asleep? Did you trick me into a fae contract?” The two brain cells were bouncing around her skull like the screensaver of a DVD player. They hadn’t collided yet and neither could realize on its own that this answer was, essentially, a yes.
Nonagesimus had shoved one hand down her shirt and was rifling through her, though Gideon would never say this aloud, unneeded sports bra.
“Stop feeling yourself up! We’re having a serious discussion here.” Gideon’s words edged on hysterical. This had to be a fever dream.
“Will you shut the fuck up for half a moment,” Harrow demanded, pulling her hand from her bra. Her fingers were formed into a fist, holding onto something tightly. She offered it out to Gideon, unfolding her hand to reveal a small metal ring.
Oh. Right.
Gideon sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, biting it between two teeth, as she watched the ring as if it was about to perform a magic trick. Harrow was right — when wasn’t she, as irritating as that was — she had already proposed.
“That doesn’t count,” the redhead said. Harrow wrenched back her hand, closing protectively over the ring as if Gideon was about to take it back.
“The hell it doesn’t.”
Groaning, Gideon dragged her nails across her face and closed her eyes. Half of her felt like helium, floating through the air and making her voice squeaky. The dreadfully less-intelligent half that never knew when to take a win, wanted to make sure that everyone knew she was not the type of woman to propose to her girlfriend at a McDonald’s.
She pushed her chair back, scooped up the ring box, and walked to Harrow’s side. Dropping to one knee, as she should’ve before, Gideon popped open the box. “Marry me?” she asked.
Harrow folded her arms over her chest. “I’ve already said yes, Gideon. That first proposal counts.”
Goddamn, here was the most frustrating woman in the universe and this is who she had chosen to be her wife.
“Harrowhark,” she said slowly, as if explaining to a toddler, “no one counts the playground proposals.”
Her girlfriend — no, this was her fiance now — was glaring down at her. Gideon saw the pink splotches growing on Harrow’s cheeks like a warning sign that cataclysmic destruction was coming for all nearby. As usual, she chose to ignore it.
“What was wrong with the first proposal?” Harrow asked. Her words were clipped, shortened to the point that they could stab someone with more lethality than the sword in the closet.
Gideon’s knees were starting to burn. This wasn’t a sustainable pose, but the ring needed to be on Harrow’s finger before she got out of it. “Point one: I was six. Point two: that ring turned your finger green a week later. Point three: I proposed at a McDonald’s. Don’t make me tell our grandkids I proposed over a McDouble, Harrow. Please.”
Harrow sniffed. She turned over the crappy metal ring between her pointer and thumb, brushing over the fake stones that Gideon was once so proud of. Gideon was sure that if the ring still fit, Harrowhark would’ve already crammed it onto her finger.
“What I know is that my girlfriend loved me so much that she proposed to me on our first date. She spent her entire life savings, every dollar to her name on buying my ring, and had to save up even more to take me to dinner. She brought me to a restaurant I had never been to before and made sure to order something I would enjoy.” She turned to look back at Gideon. “How does that sound pathetic to you? It was the perfect proposal.”
Gideon grumbled, dropping down to rest her head against the soft fabric of Harrow’s slacks. When put like that, Harrow had her beat.
“Can we at least switch out the ring?”
Harrow hummed. “I can wear the new one on my hand and keep the old one with me.”
“Can I call you my fiance? Tell everyone we’re engaged?”
Laughter echoed around the room like windchimes. “Oh, Griddle, they already know. We’ve been engaged for years.”