Chapter 10
TEN
JACK
I’m glad everyone was so focused on their scraps of paper when I read mine, because I know I flicked my eyes to him when I saw. Now that everyone’s gone, I pull the paper from my pocket and grin.
Elliot.
I’m going to have fun with this. A small, horrible gift, to distract him.
His favorite candy bar to let him know I listen to him, but make him think I have no clue how to give gifts.
He might think that already, since I got him a sweater a few weeks ago—but I’m pretty sure he likes practical gifts, anyway.
This’ll throw him off the scent for his real gift, on Christmas Day.
“What’s happening with your face right now?”
Janet stares at me over a cold piece of broccoli pizza, one eyebrow raised. She’s the only other one awake now, looking at something on her laptop at the table.
“It’s called excitement,” I tell her. She scoffs at me. “I’m thinking about giving Eli his gift. You remember the big one, right? Now I get to give him two, with Secret Santa.”
“I remember doing that with friends in high school,” Janet says around a mouthful.
I open the fridge and refill my water bottle from the pitcher. “Hey, when’s Uncle Henry getting here, again?”
She’s sucked into her laptop again. “Day before Christmas Eve. And they’re leaving on the 26th. Mom said they’re going to see Aunt May’s side of the family in Texas for the rest of the time the cousins are on break.”
That’s . . . a lot of traveling. “At least they’ll be here for a few days.” I take slow steps, trying to act casual while I steal a glance at her laptop.
Janet turns the laptop toward me. “Here, super spy. I was going to show you soon, anyway.”
I sit down next to her and pull the laptop closer. “Mama Benson’s Best Meals,” I read. “It’s done?”
“It’s officially a blog,” Janet confirms, an upturn to her lips. “And it has a few followers. I made the first post live last week. I’m putting up the second tomorrow. That way I can show Mom how it works and she can jump in—or I can run it for her, since she does so much.”
She leads me through the blog she’s created, talking me through how she snuck pictures of every meal she could once she figured out she wanted to do this, just to have them ready, and studied other cooking and homemaker blogs to see what was popular.
Ideally, she says Mom will be able to write little posts about family life or restaurant work, and include recipes every so often.
If she can get a loyal fanbase she can try to make a business name.
“You want to make this a career for her,” I say.
Janet takes her laptop back, sliding the top shut.
“I don’t even know if she’ll like it. I’m getting ahead of myself, but .
. . I want her to be more appreciated. I want others to see what we do, get her name out there—make her a profit, even.
There’s a lot of groundwork to be done before that happens, if it does at all, but if she likes the blog idea, that’s what I’m going toward with my degree. ”
I tackle her with a hug so fiercely that we just about fall to the floor.
Janet braces us by grabbing the table. “Jeez, Jack!”
She doesn’t push me away though. She freezes for a second once it’s clear she’s not falling off her chair, and then wraps her arms around me.
“If Mom walked in now she’d bring us both to have psych evaluations,” Janet mutters.
I laugh and lean back. It would be an odd sight.
It was an odd feeling. I never hug my sister, aside from awkward half-hugs for pictures and things.
I couldn’t help it though. “Don’t expect it to be a habit,” I say, to hide that fact.
“You just did a great job with the blog, and the plan—and I’m tired! ”
She shoves me, but she’s smiling. “Get lost, dweeb.”
This surprise for Mom, our surprise for Eli, getting to see my extended family . . . man I can’t wait for Christmas.
Apparently I do have to wait for snow. My phone says there’s no chance of snow when I wake up Saturday morning, and a definite bout of rain.
“You’re still sulking,” Eli says when he meets me at the library after my shift.
I gesture ten feet ahead of us, just outside the cover of the building—where it’s downpouring. “That’s not snow.”
He pulls out his umbrella and opens it over us. “It’s not Christmas yet. If it snowed now, we’d probably lose it by Christmas. Better if it waits to fall.”
We brave our way through the heavy rain that I somehow expected to be warm. But it’s winter, so of course it’s not. It’s freezing. My pants are wet up to my knees from water splashing up with each step.
“I’m going to change,” I tell Eli once we get inside. “You want to borrow something dry?”
Eli pulls a pair of sweatpants and socks from his backpack. “Figured we might get a little wet.”
Mom is working on her list in the kitchen again when we peek in, making meal plans.
She’ll be doing her big grocery shop later next week, and I know she’ll go all out.
One, it’s Christmas. Two, her brother will be here.
She always gets competitive with him, and lording it over him that she can cook better than just about anyone is her favorite way to crush him.
She looks us over. “You could have asked for a ride.”
Eli’s eyebrows press closer. “Then you would have gotten wet, getting into the car.”
“No point in all of us getting rained on,” I say.
“The two of you . . .” Mom says, shaking her head with a reluctant smile. “Want some hot chocolate to warm up?”
We tell her that sounds great and Eli changes in the bathroom I share with Janet while I change in my room. Minutes later we sit on the couch with steaming mugs sheltered between our hands.
Eli lifts one brow when I sigh. “What can possibly be bothering you?”
“It doesn’t feel Christmas-y.”
He stands and turns on the lights on the tree in the corner of the room. “Better?”
“Marginally.” I straighten. “I know! Have you seen the movie White Christmas?”
Eli exhales a trace of a laugh. “You know, watching that movie is one of the only things I’ve willingly done with my uncle. He says it’s a classic that should be watched every year. I agree.”
I set my cocoa down. “If you’ve already watched it, we can pick something else.”
“He likes to watch it Christmas Eve. I’m happy to watch it twice.”
I grin and pull out our movie binder, find the disc, and set it up. I’ll probably watch it again, too. Mom loves it.
Eli and I settle back on the couch, a blanket curled around us. Widget walks over and hops up, and for such a small dog, he does a great job spreading out to lie on both of our laps.
“Did you ever think about dancing like that?” Eli asks after the scene where Danny Kaye and Vera-Ellen dance together for the first time.
“You asking me to dance with you?”
He scoffs. “God no. It’s probably a stupid thought, with how clumsy you are, but some of the time it seems like clumsiness is built into the dancing they do.
Like they’re not worried about falling. You do have a raw athleticism.
I think you’d either dance like that really well, or you’d break your leg. No in-between.”
I pause the movie, pick up my snoring pup and lay him down on my discarded blanket on my warm spot on the couch (so he doesn’t seem to mind being moved), and hold my hand out to Eli.
He chuckles. “Nope.”
“Oh, come on! We have to try it now!”
“I don’t twirl.”
I take his hand. “Dance with me, Elliot.”
His fingers fold over mine and he sighs as he lets me pull him to his feet. I snake my other hand across his back and grab his free hand, stepping close so his back is to my chest. I sway side to side and move slowly, releasing one hand and spinning myself out so we’re in a line.
“Go ahead,” I whisper. “Pull me in.”
He raises the hand still connected to mine, and with the same exaggerated slowness I rotate until I reach his chest.
Our eyes meet. Eli’s voice roughens. “That wasn’t so bad.”
I lean in and brush my lips to his, then pull back and spin out again. “We’re not done.”
I look at the TV for the pose. Eli follows my gaze.
“We’ll keep it slow,” I promise.
And we do, Eli moving in a somewhat rhythmic circle around me, softly clapping his hands together in a way that doesn’t produce much sound.
We sway again, holding each other, and then he spins with me, one hand steady on my back as we take curved steps in time together.
He moves to spin me out again and goes to one knee, broad shoulders straight, still holding one of my hands.
I move to circle him, knowing this is the end of the dance.
Short, tight steps close to his body, a final curve, the skin of my hand sliding against his . . .
I fall over his bent knee, into the arm he has waiting to catch me.
I fall a little harder than I should.
Eli swears and goes to the floor with me.
It doesn’t hurt, but we collide with the floor, tangled against each other. We stare at each other for a few seconds, breathing faster than before. “Danny Kaye would have caught me,” I say, my heart picking up its pace.
“I did catch you, idiot,” Eli says, voice crackling with desire. His breath is warm, mingling with mine.
“You actually fell with me.”
“You’re in my arms, aren’t you?”
My breath hitches and I curl my fingers into the collar of his sweater. “My favorite place to be.”
He crushes his mouth to mine, chocolate and laughter sweet on his lips. For a few minutes I dissolve into his embrace, and then Widget jumps down from the couch and bumps his nose against my back.
“Someone else wants affection,” I say. Eli chuckles. I’m in the process of rolling over to pet Widget when Mom’s voice sounds, louder with each word as she appears in the doorway.
“Jack, Eli, did you want more—oh. What happened?”
We scramble upright, Eli smoothing his sweater down where I scrunched it. “We were dancing,” I tell Mom. The back of my neck burns. At least she didn’t walk in on us actively kissing, but still . . .
She raises her eyebrows.
“We were trying to dance like they do in White Christmas,” Eli says, somehow not as mortified as I am—or better at hiding it. “Jack fell, I caught him, and . . . yeah.”
“He fell too,” I add in.
Eli glares at me, then gestures to the paused movie on the TV. Mom laughs. “You tried to dance like that? No wonder you fell!”
“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mumble.
“He needs a lot of work,” Eli says.
I turn on him. “I did better than you!”
Eli crouches to pet Widget. “No proof of that.”
“I just wanted to see if I should make more hot chocolate,” Mom says. “I’ll let you get back to your movie. Dinner will be soon, okay?”
“Thanks, Mrs. Benson,” Eli says, as I say, “Thanks, Mom.”
She goes back toward the kitchen, Widget trotting after her in hopes of treats, no doubt. Eli and I look at each other and I see a tinge of pink color his cheeks.
We sit back on the couch without a word, Eli spreads the blanket over us again, and I start the movie up.
His hand finds my knee beneath the blanket and gives it a gentle squeeze, and he rests his head on my shoulder with a contented sigh.
I glance at him and then focus on the movie, a smile pulling at my lips.
Now it feels more like Christmas.