Chapter 16 #2
We didn’t talk about a text about a package being secured. Does that mean she and Betty are on their way?
I scroll through the script, looking for any indication that there will be a package secured, but when I come up short, panic starts to set in.
Was that supposed to be the emoji text?
She made it quite clear that it would be an emoji. That she wouldn’t say anything, but she’d just send a random emoji, which was when I needed to turn everything on.
So is the package secured the new emoji?
Should I flip the switch?
This is why we should have done another run-through, because now I’m panicking.
I don’t know what to do.
Now—
Knock, knock.
I whip around to look at the front door.
She’s here?
Holy fuck, she’s here.
What?
There was no emoji!
The music isn’t on.
The people aren’t moving.
The lights are not shadowing.
All rational thought processes jump out of my head, and like a family running through the Chicago O’Hare airport trying to catch their plane, I sprint around the living and dining room, flipping on switches, turning on music, and making the lights as bright as they can be, casting shadows onto the curtains.
The house is buzzing with a fake party that just so happened to have an uproar when there was a knock at the door.
Fuck, she’s so not going to believe this.
Putting on a brave face, I go to the door, open it slightly, and stick my head out of the parted slot only to find Ansel standing on the other side.
Mother.
Fucker.
“Whoa, what the fuck was that?” he asks. “It’s like someone banged the jukebox and it came back to life. What’s going on in there?”
“Nothing,” I say, closing the door even more.
His brows pinch together. “What are you doing while Mom and Dad are gone?”
“Nothing. Mind your own business. Now . . . now go away.”
That doesn’t help my cause, because his curiosity is piqued.
“Let me in.”
“No,” I say.
“Atlas, let me in.”
“I said no. Now . . . leave. You need to be gone, like right now.”
He folds his arms across his chest. “Not until you tell me what you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing anything. Therefore, I have nothing to tell.”
“Says the guy who has someone talking to another person with their head off.”
“What?” I pull away from the door. “The fucking head fell off?”
Ansel takes that moment to push inside the house and nearly knocks over one of the fans that’s been meticulously set up.
“Whoa, what the fuck, dude?” He glances around, taking in the half-dressed mannequins, the strings, the lights. “This is some creepy-ass shit.”
I find the head that rolled off the mannequin under the table.
“Get out. I’m doing something, and I can’t have you here.
” I snag the head and bring it back to the mannequin.
I think about what to do, how to rectify this, and then remember Dad’s gum, which he keeps in his office.
Forgetting about Ansel, I run to the back of the house into Dad’s office and then squat down to his trunk. I flip open the top and start digging.
“What are you doing?” Ansel says. “Dad will pound you if he knows you’re looking through his stuff.”
“Pound me? Really? Dad doesn’t even know what a fist is,” I say as I move aside a Playboy from November 1990, thankfully wrapped up in cellophane, and that’s when I find his stocked up Fruit Stripe gum.
I pull out three strips, shove them in my mouth, and start chewing. I’ll take care of the trunk later.
I rush back to the dining room and chew like I’ve never chewed before, my jaw growing tired. Ansel simply stares at me. Just when I feel like the gum is ready, there’s a ding from my phone.
Full panic sets in.
I pull my phone out, and there’s a text from Storee.
It’s two emojis.
Two?
A tooth.
And a gold medal.
Why did she send two?
Two is not what we agreed on.
And why a tooth and a gold medal?
Jesus fuck.
I take the gum out of my mouth, place it on the bottom of the neck of the mannequin, then slam the head onto the body, run to the door, slam it shut from where Ansel left it open, grab my brother by the sweater, and bring him over to the stairs.
“Hey, watch it. What are you doing? You’re going to stretch my sweater.”
I get right in his face and say, “You’re going to sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and not mutter one goddamn word, or else I’m telling Felix that you’re the reason Jim dumped him. Got it?”
That clams Ansel up real quick as he sits down and remains silent.
I have about two seconds before I see lights come down the driveway.
This won’t work.
This is so stupid.
Why did I agree to do this?
When I hear a door shut, I turn to Ansel and point my finger at him, and he zips his mouth shut.
When there’s a knock at the door, my body feels like it’s broken out in hives. I count to five and then walk over to the door and twist it open.
Betty is standing on the other side, worrying her lip and looking adorable in a pair of black skinny jeans, snow boots, and a puffy jacket.
“Oh, hey,” I say, my hand propped up on the door, already starting to sweat. “Sorry about the noise. Uh, good to see you. I like your, uh, I like your jacket.”
She glances down at it and then back up at me. “It’s the same one I wore yesterday.”
“Really? Ah, must be different in the light. So what’s going on?”
She glances past my shoulder. “Um, well . . . I didn’t mean to bother you and your, uh, your party.”
“Not bothering at all,” I say as my mind goes back to the script that Storee provided me. “Just a little fundraiser I do for families who need funds during Christmastime.”
Okay, that’s not a lie. I do donate money to families who need a little supplementation, but it’s money of my own, and my parents match it.
“That’s . . . wow, that’s really sweet.” She glances down at her hands, where she’s holding our ornaments. “I feel kind of silly coming over here, interrupting you.”
“You’re fine. It’s good to see you.”
“Yeah?” she asks as her eyes meet mine again, but this time, they stay on me longer, allowing me to read her. And in a snapshot of a second, I see everything that I need to see.
The uneasiness.
The uncertainty.
The . . . longing.
Unmistakable. I can see her want mirror my want.
It’s right there.
Clear as day.
“Yeah,” I answer, trying not to get too excited. “Did you have a good time last night?”
She nods and then softly says, “I really did.”
“I did too.” I wet my lips and lean ever so slightly forward, just enough that our conversation feels more intimate. “What are you up to?”
“Um, well, you know.” She clears her throat, seeming far too nervous, so I try to help her.
“Are you hanging out with Storee tonight?”
“Yeah, we, uh, we’re going to get lost in Baubles and Wrappings and then grab a bite to eat. But I thought that I would, uh . . . bring this over first. It feels kind of silly now but—” She lifts up the ornaments, and I smile as I take mine from her.
“It stayed overnight?”
She smiles. “It did.”
“Yours too?”
She holds hers up as well. “Mine too.”
“Well, if that’s not a good sign, I don’t know what is.”
“You think our wishes will come true?”
“I’m really hoping mine does,” I say, looking her dead in the eyes.
The corners of her lips tilt up as she smiles back at me.
“Yeah, me too.” She clears her throat. “Well, uh, I’ll let you get back to your party.
I don’t want to keep you long. Or Storee for that matter.
” She takes a few steps back. “I hope you raise a lot of money and have a fun time.” Another step back, growing too close to the steps.
“Hey, be careful,” I say.
She takes another step back. “Yup, be careful. Always have to be careful. Funny thing about being careful.”
She takes one more step, and I see where this is going, so I rush out the door and snag her by the waist, right before she tips backward down the stairs.
“Oh!” The surprise in her voice is cute, but then her eyes fall to my mouth. “Uh, sorry, did I . . . did I forget?” She nervously laughs, making no sense at all.
“Forget?” I ask.
“Yeah, you know, the tugging at my waist and all. I get it, no big deal. We did it before.”
What on earth is she talking about? Before I can ask, she lifts up on her toes and presses a kiss to my lips.
Christ.
Her fucking lips.
Unsure why this is happening, my grip on her grows tighter, my mouth wanting to explore, but she doesn’t even give me a second before she pulls away and starts looking around. “Where’s the mistletoe? That’s number four, right?”
“Huh?” I ask, feeling dazed.
“That’s why you snagged me, right?” She gulps. “For a kiss? Because of, you know . . . some mistletoe hanging?”
I swallow and catch my breath. “Uh, no. You were about to fall down the stairs backward. And I didn’t want that to happen.”
She glances behind her and then back at me. “Oh dear God, you weren’t wanting to kiss me?”
“I mean, yeah, I want to kiss you, but I don’t want to kiss you if you don’t want to be kissed. I was just trying to help you so you didn’t fall.”
“That’s why you said, ‘Be careful.’”
“Yeah, that’s why I said, ‘Be careful.’ What did you think I meant?”
“I really don’t know. I’m just . . . ah, I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“No, I’m bothering you and then kissing you—”
“You’re not bothering me.” I push a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you brought my ornament over. It’s special. Thank you.”
Her panic pauses for a moment as her eyes connect with mine. “Oh, um, you’re . . . you’re welcome.”
Then I right her back on her feet and let go of her. “It was really good to see you, Betty.”
She shifts, and I can see her nerves really take hold of her. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that to be nice and make me feel better because I randomly kissed you with no mistletoe?”
I reach up and pinch her chin with my forefinger and thumb, making her feel just how serious I am when I say this. “I mean it.”