Chapter 8
EIGHT
JACK
I make sure to tell Mom later that night, after Eli is gone, that he’s okay. That she was right that this was good for him. (She gets such a satisfied look when I tell her she was right that I realize I’ve never told her she’s wrong . . .)
“You do know you’re my favorite, too, don’t you?” she checks.
“Sure,” I say, teasing. “Try to take it back now, when he’s gone.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she says with a chuckle. “You think he had a good day?”
“He told me he did after I walked him home.”
It wasn’t too frigid outside, so after breakfast we grabbed Hugh and brought him to the park.
Eli suggested we bring Widget, too. It was his first time leading the spazzy dog on the leash for a prolonged time, and the number of times Widgets twined the leash around Eli’s legs and almost tripped him was hilarious.
Eli and I went to Kenny’s house later in the day, after we feasted on turkey hash for lunch, and discovered Eli is much better at video games than I am—though Kenny is still the champ.
Eli invited him to play soccer with us sometime.
I almost kissed him on the spot, for being so effortlessly sociable.
I resisted until we left Kenny’s house, and we took our time walking back to mine.
We followed that with turkey soup and rolls (extra rolls, just for Eli) for dinner at home, and then a bit of decorating.
We always set up Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving.
Funny Christmas movie in the background, Janet and I on tree duty while Mom decorates the mantle—that’s how it’s always been, the day after Thanksgiving.
Hugh runs around with the tree skirt over his shoulders like a cape.
It’s nice having Eli do it with us. Cozier.
“So,” Mom says now, “you’re baking for your soccer party tomorrow?”
“Yep.”
“Do you want help?”
Would it be guaranteed to be delicious if she helped? Yes. “If I can’t make a pudding pie, with Eli’s help and a pre-made crust, I’m really hopeless.”
Mom bites her lip.
“I can make a pudding pie, Mom!”
She laughs. “I know you can. Eli is bringing something a little more intensive, right?”
“Rolls.”
Mom blinks. “Oh. Yeah, you’ll both be fine. Next time you make a lasagna, though, I’ll help. Just thinking about the mess you described when you made it for me . . .”
“That was a blender issue. Otherwise, I think we did pretty well.”
“It was really good.” She kisses my cheek. “Have fun baking in the morning, and if I don’t see you before you go, have fun at your party!”
I go to my room and pull out my phone, sitting on the bed and messaging Eli that Mom enjoys teasing us about cooking too much.
His reply is quick. There’s a lot to tease, even thinking about us cooking. Pretty sure we’ll get to tease some of the guys tomorrow, though. None of the team strikes me as master chefs.
Friendsgiving, here we come, I text back.
Maybe it’s the different kitchen, but everything goes really smoothly the next morning. No real mess, other than a bit of flour and milk that spilled over the bowls on the counter. My chocolate pudding pie and Eli’s homemade rolls are done long before we need to go, and the kitchen cleaned.
We celebrate by eating the last of the apple raspberry pie and watching a movie.
“Fred just texted,” Eli says. “He told Gavin he could help set up, so he’ll be here in twenty minutes.”
I hide the evidence of the now-finished pie in the trash can just before Janet gets back with Hugh, from his playdate.
“Don’t tell me you’re still baking,” she says, as Hugh runs right to his toy cars in the living room. The kid can’t get enough of them lately.
“Nah, we finished right after you and Hugh left. We’re heading to the party in a few minutes.”
“Hope you don’t poison anyone,” Janet calls over her shoulder.
“That’s your job, when you cook!”
Eli is shaking his head when I look at him. “Pathetic comeback.”
“Like you could do better.”
“Shut up.”
I pause. “Actually, that is better.”
His lips tilt up.
Seth and Fred pick us up and drive us to Gavin’s. I spot Seth’s contribution for the party as soon as I climb into my seat, and have to smile. “You brought the bag of chicken tenders, still frozen?”
“He claims we’d just need to reheat them when everyone gets there,” Fred says, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. “I say he’s just being lazy.”
“Never said it wasn’t both,” Seth says, grinning. He turns to us. “So how was Thanksgiving for you guys?”
Eli and I look at each other, unsure how to respond.
“I can tell you about mine,” Fred says swiftly, over the awkward pause. “We had a video chat with my brother, since he had to go back to base . . .”
In minutes we reach Gavin’s house, having heard about both Seth and Fred’s Thanksgiving days and told them an abridged version of the chaos that took place at my house.
“Let me get that,” Seth says, grabbing Eli’s container before Eli hops down from the truck. He looks at me. “Here, I got that too.” Seth sets the pie on top of the container of rolls he took from Eli. “Don’t need any tragic accidents.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” I mutter, hopping to the ground.
“You just want to look like a bigshot, carrying everything in,” Eli says.
“I can carry the pie I made inside,” I insist, reaching for it.
“You dropped the marker Seth threw you on Sunday,” Fred deadpans. “He threw it from a foot away.”
“Everyone knows I’m clumsy once in a while. You guys have weaknesses, too.”
“I’ll never admit to that,” Seth says. “Rule number one for eligible bachelors, underclassmen: always appear confident!”
“Confident and cocky are different,” Fred says, shaking his head. “Also, you do realize you’re talking to two people in a relationship, while the two of us are still single, don’t you? And there aren’t any eligible ladies around for the two of us upperclassmen to impress.”
“Must you question me, Frederick?”
“When you’re being more of an idiot than usual? Can’t resist.”
Seth turns swiftly, mouth open with some kind of sassy retort at the ready, and as if in slow-motion, I watch the pie slide across the top of the container of rolls, shooting past its edge and careening toward the ground.
It hits at an angle, the plastic top popping off, chocolate pudding staining the ground. We all stop and stare at it.
“The horror,” I whisper.
“Sorry, my dude,” Seth says.
“We can still save half of it,” Fred says, bending to inspect the fallen dessert.
Eli rubs between my shoulder blades.
I lift my gaze to Seth. “Who’s clumsy now?” I ask, louder than I should.
Eli laughs behind his fist. Fred doesn’t hide his laughter. Seth stares at me. “I concede to the sassy Padawan,” he says, dipping his head in a bowing motion. “In this one instance, you can be the Master.”
My irritation slides away. “What?”
“Star Wars,” Fred says.
Seth straightens. “If you tell me you’ve never seen it, we need to fix that as soon as possible.”
I look at Eli. Seems like he isn’t overly familiar with the movies either.
“Okay, movie marathon after the party,” Seth declares.
“Are you guys ever coming—what happened?”
We all turn at Gavin’s voice. The senior captain stands in his doorway, watching us, and strides over with a barely suppressed grin. “Having some difficulty, boys?”
“Just Seth,” I tell him.
“It’s salvageable,” Fred says.
Gavin chuckles. “If you say so. Hey, most of the guys should be here soon, so if you need to heat anything up, go right into the kitchen.”
Fred runs in to grab paper towels while I save all that’s left to be saved of my pie. “Off to a great start,” I say to Gavin, with a sheepish grin.
He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “With this group, I wouldn’t expect anything else.”
Our teammates trickle in over the next half hour. Gavin puts a sign on the door to come to the backyard, and we play cornhole while we wait for everyone.
“Awesome setup, Captain!”
I jerk at Coach Lutz’s booming voice, my toss going a bit higher than intended—into Fred’s gut.
“Dude, it’s not dodgeball,” Seth says. “And he’s your partner!”
Coach Lutz stands just past the doorway into the backyard, holding a platter high with one hand. “Whoops. I broke your concentration.”
“Didn’t have much of that to begin with,” Eli mutters beside me. I elbow him in the ribs.
Coach Lutz is the last one to arrive. Half of the guys are lounging near the fire pit, on their phones.
PJ and Luca are still in the kitchen, I think.
Everyone else is loosely gathered around us, passing a football and waiting for a new round—and betting on the outcome of ours.
We haven’t finished one game yet because someone keeps going past the maximum points and making us start over . . . on both sides.
For all his talk, Seth sucks at this game as much as I do.
“Who’s winning?” Coach Lutz asks.
“Father Time,” Luca says, stepping around him from the kitchen. “They’ve been playing since before we all got here.”
Coach Lutz whistles. “All right—someone hold my oatmeal scotchies while I save the day.”
“Coach?” Gavin asks, accepting the tray Coach Lutz pushes into his hands.
“Blondie, I’m with you and Fred. Who’s the third for Elliot and Seth? Come on boys, look alive!”
Max stands near Seth, and the game begins anew—and ends, not long after.
“Good game!” Coach Lutz says, high fiving the players. Gavin’s parents walk over to him, his father shaking Coach Lutz’s hand.
“Another round, or food?” Gavin asks.
“Food first!” David cries.
Everyone agrees.
“Everything should be set now,” Gavin’s mother says. “I took a tray of brownies from the oven. Someone must have gotten too caught up in the game to remember them.”
From the way Luca’s ears redden, he’s the culprit.
“Brownies and my famous oatmeal scotchies? You guys are in for a treat,” Coach Lutz says.
He runs a hand over his fade, eyes roaming over all of us.
His mouth is turned up in a smile. “Eat your hearts out. Enjoy the rest of your Friendsgiving, guys.”
“You can stay if you want, Coach,” Gavin says. “We have plenty of food.”
“Appreciate the offer, Captain, but I’ve got my own Friendsgiving to get to.” He raises his hand, one finger aloft. “Don’t even think about homework tonight, got it?” he yells.
“Yes, sir!” we yell back.
He grins and turns, walking in with Gavin’s parents—who seem to be asking if he wants to stay for a drink, if I hear them right. “I feel like he wanted to stay,” Eli says in a soft voice.
I brush my arm against his. “He didn’t want to put a strain on anyone. A cameo, like you said.”
“Are we eating or what?” Seth asks.
I run through the door in answer, a team of hungry soccer players at my heels.
Friendsgiving is light and warm and fun . . . and before I know it, over. And then Sunday, our last day of Thanksgiving break, is nearing its end as well.
Eli and I walk along our morning route, though daylight is beginning to fade. Our hands are linked between us, his keeping mine warm. My other hand is slowly turning to ice, but fisting it in my pocket is slowing the process.
Eli seems lost in thought, beautiful brown eyes looking ahead.
“Did you enjoy everything?” I ask. “From this weekend, I mean?”
His eyes slide to me, and his shoulders move in a soundless chuckle. “You could say that. For most of it, anyway. Even the stressful part had a decent outcome, though, so . . . yeah. So many kinds of family. Much more than I expected.”
“Just wait till Christmas.”
He frowns. “You really want me to invite my parents for Christmas? They said they’ll come, but if they actually do, it might be better if I did a meal with them, and a meal with you guys, separate.”
“If they come, and Mom invites them again, we’ll deal with it. But I was talking about my family. At Christmas, it’s your turn to meet my extended family.”
One eyebrow quirks up. “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s always a blast when Uncle Henry and his family visit. It’ll be a great thing.”
The trace of anxiety I’d heard in his voice is gone when he says, “I’ll look forward to it.”
“Is there a Christmas edition of Friendsgiving?”
Eli stares at me for several seconds, and under his breath, mutters, “Idiot.” My pulse picks up, lips twitching at the corners. “It must be Friendmas.”
“Must it?”
“If it isn’t, I’m calling it that.”
“I will too. And just think. We packed so much into this short break. We get over a week off for Christmas.”
“We’ll have to be just as good at spending time together, then, just us. I’ll need it.”
I lean closer. “That can be arranged.”
A firm gust of wind sends leaves drifting down around us, pumpkin orange and golden brown catching in the fading sunlight.
I watch two leaves chase each other in whirls as they fall, taking in the beautiful autumn afternoon, but I don’t see them land.
Maybe they never reach the ground, swept up by another breeze.
Chasing each other until they collide. Eli gathers me close as they dance by, and I close my eyes to bask in him instead.