Chapter 5 #2
And then I see him: Mitch, running along the race course, tugging Stephanie. He’s wearing a string of Christmas bulbs around his neck and they’re blinking randomly. Stephanie has a Santa hat on.
I grab a set of antlers off the table and pop them on my head.
The things I do for my friends.
Mitch runs right up to me, panting. He puffs out, “A life of Sunday football snacks has not prepared me for the rigors of holiday races.”
“What happened to that six-pack you’re always putting on display for anyone and everyone?” I ask.
“It’s there.” He pulls his shirt up to prove it, because, of course he does.
Stephanie’s laughing so hard she can barely get off the sled.
“Get on, Mitch! Get on!” she shouts. “We can still win this thing!”
Mitch hops on and I grab the rope and start tugging.
“Sunday football snacks!” I shout back at him.
He weighs a ton. But once I get going, the momentum helps. I focus on the course, my breathing, and using my leg muscles to propel us forward. I won’t be the weak link on this team.
People line the course, taking photos of all the racers, cheering and jumping around as if they’re watching the Olympic bobsleds instead of a bunch of locals dressed like elves. Mitch shouts and waves like a princess in a parade.
We make it to Tori. A red, flashing rudolph nose blinks on the center of her face. She’s wearing a matching red boa around her neck, and she’s shouting, “Run! Run! Run!” while she jumps up and down with her trademark buoyant enthusiasm.
Something lifts at the sight of her.
Mitch tumbles off the sled. I hand the rope to Tori. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pull you?”
“That would be cheating. Now, hop on, Mr. Reindeer, and get ready for the ride of your life.”
She smiles and I smile back.
Maybe it’s only a twitch of my lips, or a slight, imperceptible grin. It’s definitely not a big smile, but I feel it—unfamiliar, awkward, but instantaneous.
It came without a thought. Snuck up on me. And Tori was the reason.
“What are you waiting for?” she asks. “Hop on!”
I climb on the sled and she tugs. And tugs. And tugs.
I don’t budge.
This is ridiculous. I need to be the one pulling.
Without a word, I stand and get off the sled.
I’m taking charge. This race can’t be too concerned with rules, not with how crazy everyone’s acting. Tori will be my passenger princess. And we’ll win. We can close the gap between us and those other racers if I’m the one pulling.
The sled, now free from my weight, goes flying forward toward Tori who is still bound and determined to pull me even though I’m probably twice as big as she is.
She’s about to get hit by the airborne sled, so I jump to push her out of the way, cocooning her with my body as the sled catapults forward. I tuck and roll us to the side, holding Tori to me so she doesn’t take the impact of our inevitable fall.
We hit the grass to the side of the road and I roll onto my back, taking her with me.
She’s on top of me—back to front, both of us looking skyward.
I can feel her laughter ripple through her. She’s in hysterics.
And I laugh.
I’m not sure when the last time I laughed was, but it feels like a dam breaking. I laugh so hard, tears fall from the corners of my eyes. I’m having a hard time catching my breath.
Tori rolls off of me, landing softly on the grass and propping herself up on her elbows. She looks straight into my eyes. I’ve noticed that about her. She’s not afraid to make eye contact—like a woman with nothing to hide.
Her face is light and free, open and giddy.
“Best race ever!” she shouts and then she breaks into another fit of laughter, burying her face in her hands and lifting it again to meet my eyes.
“Get on the sled,” I tell her.
“Are you serious?”
“We’re finishing this thing.”
“Okay,” she says easily, standing to brush herself off.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yes. Are you?”
“I’m … good. Yeah. Good.”
“Okay. Let’s go finish this thing. Someone needs to come in last.”
“It won’t be us,” I assure her.
She shakes her head—still smiling—and climbs onto the sled which one of the Christmas-clad volunteers has retrieved for us. I tug on the rope and take off running.
We don’t win—not by a long shot. But when we cross the finish line, our friends are all there cheering us over. And we’re not last. There’s a kid with his younger sister on the sled that comes in after us. And then there’s June and Imogene, two seniors closing things out.
Mitch walks over to us. “Epic fail!” he says to me.
He smiles broadly at Tori. “You, Tori, get an A plus for effort.”
I nearly step up and wrap my arm around her.
What is this?
She’s not mine. Far from it. Though she is the name on the card I pulled.
I’m her secret Santa. And I’m going to make sure she gets the holiday she deserves.
She’s far too good for Mitch—or me, for that matter.
Mitch elbows me lightly. “You’re awfully quiet. Everything okay over there?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer—just looks at Tori and winks.
I swear he’s messing with me.
Or at least I hope that’s all this is.