Bee nodded and kept moving.
He stared from the banana, to Bee, to Eli, and then did the whole trip a second, and then a third time. “How in thefuck—”
“HIPAA.”
“There’s no goddamn HIPAA in prison. What did you do? Cure his dick cancer?”
“Penile cancer is exceptionally rare in North America.”
He leaned over and took a savage bite out of Eli’s banana. As far as revenge went, it was petty. Ineffective too, because Eli laughed, and ruffled his hair. “Love you, puppy.”
He almost choked. It was only a lifetime practice of overeating that saved him. “You can’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because—”Because it isn’t true. “Because we’re in prison.”
Eli laughed, as he knew he would. “Is love illegal here?”
Samuel pushed his face into his folded hands. He was going to have a heart attack. “Stop using that word.”
He shouldn’t have said that. He should have known that would only encourage the man, who ruffled his hair again. But maybe that was why he’d said it. Maybe he was so thirsty for Eli’s affection he’d do anything to get it.
“I don’t know what to do when you act this cute, Samuel. I really don’t.”
He wanted to grab that hand. Wanted to throw himself into those arms and cling to him and beg him never to leave. To stay by his side. To love him for real. Because if he had that—if he had Eli—it wouldn’t matter that he was in prison. It already didn’t matter. Maybe Eli’s moods were contagious because he was beginning to love his life. Even with all the predators and The Android and being locked away from the outside world, each day was good. It was so good. And he didn’t know what he was going to do—didn’t know how he was going to go back—once Eli was let out and he was alone again.
Eli got five more bananas before he began turning them down. “I can’t eat this many,” he told Vern when he tried to add to the pile.
But Vern was undeterred. “Fuller can.”
It wasn’t just the bananas. The bacon and hash browns were a big hit, but a lot of the salad was put onto their trays. Samuel wasn’t particularly picky about what he ate, and he’d learned to do his duty when it came to vegetables, but he couldn’t mimic Eli, who put each forkful into his mouth with such pleasure it bordered on the obscene.
He couldn’t understand it. “Is this because you’ve been deprived of donuts your whole life?”
“I’ve had donuts.”
“I don’t mean the gluten-free shit.”
Eli picked up another salad bowl andsmiledinto it. “You are so beautiful,” he told a piece of avocado.
“If you love it so much, why don’t you marry it?”
“I already have two husbands. I doubt very much the good lord is going to grant me a third.”
Samuel bent his head over his fourth banana and tried not to feel anything from that comment. The truth was, the husband story didn’t feel like just a prison thing anymore. He knew it was just supposed to unite them against the predators, but more and more he found himself playing pretend.
“Hurry up,” he finally said, and set about stacking the empty bowls. “We’ve got yard time soon.”
He was on edge the whole day, expecting something to go wrong, but lunch came and went, and then it was dinner, and no one had staged any riots. He had yet to speak to the warden since his little hissy fit, but it seemed the gluten-free meals were a success.
But perhaps his celebration came a little early. He was halfway through his chicken and rice when, across from him, Eli set his fork down and covered his face with a hand. It had him practically destroying the table to get to him. “What is it? Your stomach?” He’d explained the dangers of cross contamination to his father, and Jethro was always so precise in everything he did. It hadn’t occurred to him that a mistake could happen. “Do we need to go to medical?”
Eli shook his head, but he didn’t uncover his face.
Panic spiked. “Was the food too hot? Did you bite your tongue?”
Eli hugged him. For a second, he didn’t recognize it for what it was, and almost hauled him up onto his shoulder, worried the man had collapsed, but then Eli squeezed him andsaid, “Thank you,” and his voice sounded strange. Rougher than usual, like he had something caught in his throat. He thought to offer the man some water. Maybe food had gotten stuck going down the wrong pipe, but then Eli lifted his face and his eyes were wet, and Samuel had no idea what to do with himself. He squeezed his hands into fists and tried to think of what to say, what to do. His panic was going to make his heart tear through his ribs. “Eli—”
