Page 53 of Halo

He shrugs, tilting his head playfully back and forth.

“I have some milk and orange juice if you'd rather have that.”

“Water, please.”

I turn on the television and hand him the remote before retreating to the kitchen. One glance inside my cabinets confirms I was wildly unprepared for a child. Who the hell needs this much glassware? Thankfully, I find a sleeve of leftover plastic cups from a New Year's Eve party shoved in the back of the pantry. I fill it up to the top using the filtered water dispenser in the fridge door—and then promptly dump out half because I'm an idiot.

When I return to the living room, Grady has escaped the padded cocoon of the sofa and is now standing two feet from the television.

“Can you see okay, partner?” I ask.

He nods, pushing up his glasses. “What are they doing?”

I watch for a few seconds as men and women in oversized streetwear spin, flip, and balance on their hands while a heavy bass line rattles the speakers.

“They're dancing,” I explain. “This style is called breaking.”

“Breaking?”

“Mm-hmm.” I hand him his water, making sure he uses both hands before returning my attention to the television.

“What are they breaking?” he asks, a crease forming on his forehead.

A laugh slips out. “Hopefully nothing expensive. I honestly don't know why they call it that, but hang on.” I pull out my phone. “Let's ask the internet.”

Grady suddenly winces, smacking his lips before sticking out his tongue in disgust.

“Whoa. What's with the face?”

He hands the cup back. “It tastes funny.”

I frown, sniffing the water before taking a sip myself.

What in the M. Night Shyamalan is going on here?

“Partner, it tastes like water.”

“It tastes like pennies.”

My gaze bounces from him to the cup. Does he have a mineral deficiency? A sensory thing? “Grady, what do you drink at home?”

“Water.”

“From the fridge or the sink?”

“The sink.”

I wonder … I tell Grady not to move as I head back to the kitchen, grab a new plastic cup, and fill it with water straight from the tap.

He eyes it suspiciously when I return before taking a cautious sip. Suddenly, his eyes light up, and he drains the entire cup.

I laugh, combing my fingers through his messy blond waves. “Someone was thirsty.”

He lets out a contented sigh. “Can you show me more dancing?”

“Uh... yeah. Sure.” I grin, settling onto the couch.

He climbs up beside me without hesitation, his little shoulder bumping mine as his attention drifts back to the television.