Chapter 15
Elizabeth
DECK THE HALLS
“Did you just get the text?” I ask as I walk into the kitchen the next morning and see Nate sitting on the couch with a bucket of pictures beside him.
“No, what text?” He looks up as he flips the stack of pictures in his hands.
“From Joshua,” I tell him and he shakes his head. “Apparently, it’s a two-for-one day,” I announce, going over to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, “so we can have a free day tomorrow.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” he asks me, his head turning to me and I see his hair is sticking up on the side. He’s wearing another pair of fucking gym shorts that hang softly on his hips, and I wonder if I pull them down, if he’ll be naked under them. The thought alone makes parts of me tingle.
“It means today is the gingerbread competition, which”—I walk to the fridge—“I’m going to win.” He rolls his eyes. “Then it’s the ice hockey game tonight.”
“Did you forget who won yesterday?” he asks and then points to the stupid trophy that is sitting on top of his counter.
“Seriously?” I lean against the counter. “You going to say you won fair and square?”
“Fucking right,” he declares as he looks through the pictures in his hands and puts the stack to the side and grabs another one from the basket.
“You hip-checked me,” I point out to him.
“It’s not my fault that you were in my way.”
“I was standing up reading my clue,” I gasp.
“And also, in my way.”
“And what about when you took our clue with you by ‘accident’?” I mention the last clue they took with them so we wouldn’t catch up to them.
The minute Joshua threatened us with helping do the seating chart, it was like you thought we were in The Amazing Race and were going to win one million dollars as the prize.
“We didn’t take it.” He rolls his eyes. “It accidentally fell on the floor and was pushed under a table.”
“You should have been disqualified.” I point to him.
“But we won, so it’s neither here nor there,” he gloats, and I walk over to the couch and sit down in the spot where I’ve sat every single morning, “and we got a trophy for it.”
“At least yours survived.” I snicker. “Jack’s ended up crushed under Evie’s shoe.”
“I did not see that coming.” He laughs also. “She fucking pummeled that thing as if she was King Kong.” We both laugh.
“I wonder if she let him in the house?” I ask. “I can’t believe she left him at the venue and said ‘Find your own ride home.’”
“I can’t believe he chased Joshua around the fucking venue saying he ruined his day.” I laugh so long I have tears in my eyes.
“I thought Jack was going to deck him,” Nate says, “and I think he might have if your father hadn’t walked in to see what was happening.”
“Right time, right place,” I say. He suddenly stops what he’s doing and looks over at me. My heart races when I remember when I said those words to him, and I quickly look away. “Needless to say, someone was in trouble and for once it wasn’t me.”
“You kicked me,” he hisses out, not touching on the remark from before or maybe he doesn’t remember. But with the way he looked at me, I know he does.
“I did not.” I shake my head. “I accidentally fell forward with my leg connecting to your shin. It was as much of an accident as the clue ending up under a table.” I shrug. “Anyway, what the heck are you doing?”
“I told Belinda I would get a couple of pictures of Joshua in high school and some of us growing up.”
“I haven’t seen a real picture in forever,” I mention, leaning over and grabbing the stack. “Everything is all digital these days.”
“You know what is making a comeback?” he asks, as I flip through the pictures.
“Those disposable cameras.” I gawk at him.
“I know someone who works with me always brings it with her. We were at a team dinner the other day, and we all posed for a picture and she took out this square thing from her purse. It had the flash and everything.”
“But then how do you know if the picture is good or not?” I ask him and he shrugs.
“You find out like in the old days when it’s printed.”
“Oh my gosh.” I turn one of the pictures over. “Is this prom?”
“I think it was semi-formal,” he replies.
I look back at the picture of both of them in suits, standing side by side.
My eyes go to just Nate, who was always hot, even back then.
But it was different, he was just Joshua’s best friend back then.
He was also one of the people I could have counted on just like Joshua and Jack.
“That hockey flow.” I laugh at their long hair.
“Don’t knock that haircut,” he retorts, “it’s making a comeback too.”
“So is the mullet, who would have thought?” I mumble as we look through pictures. He finds one of the two of us, sitting side by side, our hair wet from the pool with towels on our laps, his arm around my neck, hanging. “I’m keeping this one.” I show it to him.
“No, you aren’t.” He snatches it from me. “It’s mine, go find your own.”
“Where?” I get up.
“Where do you think I got these from?” He holds up the pictures. “Your parents.”
“You’re so annoying.” I grab my cup. “I’m going to get dressed to slay the day.”
“You do that. I’m going to sit here and watch my trophy.” He smirks at me. I slap it off the counter and watch it fall to the floor.
It rolls over twice and just lies there. “Oops”—I put one hand in front of my mouth—“my bad.”
I walk upstairs and head for the shower. “We have to be there at eleven!” he screams up at me.
“Worry about yourself,” I tell him before walking into the bathroom and finishing my coffee as I wait for the water to warm up.
* * *
“If I never see this venue again,” I say to Nate as I get out of his truck, “it’ll still be too soon.”
He laughs at me as I look over at him with his white sneakers today.
His light blue jeans are just right with their fit and show off his package and his ass, as if they were made for him and only him.
The white hem of his T-shirt is sticking out below his light gray-and-black long-sleeved sweater.
The front of his black puffer jacket is open, showing you his outfit.
His hair is pushed back, and you can see where his fingers pushed through it.
It’s annoying how hot he is with no effort at all.
He holds open the door for me and I step into the room and see rectangular tables set up all around. Two chairs are on each side with small bowls in the middle of the tables.
“There he is,” Joshua greets, walking to us, “the winner of the scavenger hunt.”
“I think you mean the cheater of the scavenger hunt,” I correct him as he slaps his shoulder, trying not to laugh.
“It’s all hearsay.” Joshua sticks up for him and I look around to see Evie is here talking to my mother, with Jack holding her fist in his hand.
We make our way to them. “Morning,” I say to the group and Jack side-eyes me, “how is everyone?”
“Great,” Evie grumbles, “just peachy.” She tries to get her hand away from Jack, who just smirks at her. “Let me go.”
He releases her hand but it’s only to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her to him. “Never,” he vows, looking into her eyes and I roll my eyes when I see softness come into her expression. “I’ll never let you go.”
“He’s just the sweetest,” my mother coos as Jack kisses Evie softly and then turns back to smile at Mom.
“He just made me throw up a little in my mouth,” I tell her. “And that one”—I point to Joshua—“he’s lucky I got here before he told me about all these fucking events, or I wouldn’t have come. If anything happens to him, my defense is going to be that he lured me here under false pretenses.”
“Don’t say that,” she hisses at me.
“Mom, I feel like by the time he gets married, no one is going to give a shit,” I tell her as everyone but her laughs. “Also, I’m eloping and not telling anyone.”
“Don’t you dare take that away from me,” she warns, putting her hand to her chest like I just told her I would never talk to her again for the rest of my life.
“Relax there,” I console her, “you have had two out of three, that’s like sixty-six percent. You are still winning.”
“Wait until I tell your father.” She storms away from me to find my father.
“We should grab a table,” Evie says to us, and we walk over to a table. I pull out a chair and expect Evie to sit next to me, but instead Nate pulls out the chair beside me. He shrugs off his jacket and puts it on the back of his chair, and I do the same thing with the vest I’m wearing.
I look down at the place setting in front of me, seeing two sides of what will be the gingerbread house with two holes for the windows and two rectangular solid pieces that are for the roof.
There are two other pieces for the front and back of the house, with a hole in each of them.
Then there are four smaller pieces that we could use for doors maybe, not sure.
In the middle of the table are two tin gingerbread-shaped trays, with all the fixings you would need to help decorate it.
Around the gingerbread trays are more decoration in round tins.
“Lay off your mother.” I hear my father beside my table. “She’s under enough stress at the moment, she doesn’t need more.”
“I didn’t do anything to her.” I hold my hand to my chest like she just did. “I just told her I’m not going to give her grandchildren.” He gasps. “Kidding, I said I was going to elope, isn’t that better?”
“Why are you this way?”
“I have been asking myself that question since she moved into my house,” Nate interjects and I glare at him.
“Trust me,” I hiss at him, “your house is the last place I would want to live.” I look back at Jack. “I’m coming to your house and sleeping on the couch.”
“Enough, you two,” my father hisses to us. “You two could never get along.”
“That’s not true,” I defend myself and at the same time Nate. “Also he started it.”
“Well, you finish it.” He turns and storms away.
“This is so much fun. We should do this more often,” I retort, turning to glare at Nate, who casually puts his arm around my chair, and I move it so he doesn’t touch me.
He chuckles as the wedding planner walks around the room explaining how the rules work. “It’s a fucking gingerbread house, how many rules can there be?” Jack grumbles.
“We will set a timer for one hour,” the wedding planner shouts in the room, and I look around to see everyone sitting down and ready to get this over with. “We have four people who will be the judges of all of this,” she says and I look down at my pieces. “We start in three, two, and one.”
I grab the icing bag and put some on the side of the house and then slowly put the sides together. “She has a surgical hand,” Jack says of me. “That’s not fair.”
“Just focus on your own, loser,” I tell him as I take an empty plate and grab the circular red-and-white mint candies and then decide I’m going to cut four small pieces and make it the chimney.
I lay a long line of icing on the top of the roof and then put white-and-red small gumballs in a line.
Then I do the same thing on the side but instead of the small gumballs I use the round candies.
I’m so in the zone, I don’t pay attention to anything around me.
So I don’t feel Nate get up and lean over to get something.
I look up and it all happens in slow motion.
The round tin in his hand slips out and falls right onto my house, I gasp, “Nate.” I push away from the table and his eyes are big, the sound of gumballs falling off the table and hitting the floor.
“Elizabeth,” he says my name, “I swear I didn’t mean it.”
“Oh my God,” I hear Evie say in a whisper, but it’s very faint because all I can hear is the echoing of my heart thrumming in my ears. And then a soft buzzing or maybe it’s a loud buzzing.
“It was an accident,” he tries to defend himself, but the anger rolls off of me and I move toward his house and grip the roof in my hands, crushing it.
“Elizabeth,” he says my name again but I’m too far gone.
I take my hand and press down on the sides of the house.
Jack and Evie push away from the table as I slide his house off of the table and it falls with one of the gingerbread trays.
The sound of clanking fills the room and then I hear gasps coming from around the room.
“Oh my God,” my mother shrieks, “what did you do?”
“What did I do?” I point to myself, my hand full of icing. “What did I do? Look at what he did.” I point to my crushed house. “He ruined my house.”
“You two,” she hisses at us, “go and clean yourselves up.” She points to the side where the bathroom is.
“But, Mom,” I whine, sounding like a teenager all over again.
“Now.” She uses her mother voice, and I glare at him and storm off to the side where the sign for the toilet is.
I push open the door and walk to the side, grabbing a paper towel, and wipe off the icing from my hand before I turn the water on. I add soap to my hand and the door slams open from behind me, and I look into the mirror and see him coming in, a scowl on his face.
“Seriously,” he hisses, and I shake the water off my hands and turn it off before grabbing the paper towel and wiping them dry before turning around and facing him.
“Seriously,” I hiss back at him, “you did that on purpose.” I step closer to him, making me toe to toe with him.
“Why the fuck would I do that on purpose?” He looks down at me, his eyes narrow.
“Because you suck.” I push his chest back.
“Because I was going to win.” I push him again.
“Because you want to piss me off.” I’m about to push him again when he grabs my wrists in his hands and then turns me, so my back is against the door.
He drops my hands but only to grab my hips, and then his mouth is on mine.
One of my hands flies to his jaw while the other cups the back of his head.
His tongue slides into my mouth and I tilt my head to the side as the hand holding his jaw now wraps around his shoulder.
He picks me up and my legs wrap around his waist. The kiss is hungry and wild, both of us trying to take it even deeper.
I know nothing good can come from this. I also know I will throat punch anyone who comes in and tries to stop us.