27. Brenna
27
brENNA
W hen my phone buzzes on the couch beside me, I almost ignore it, thinking it’s probably Amanda checking on me again. While I appreciate her concern, I’m also feeling a little smothered after three days of being the center of her attention. But I know if I don’t reply, she’ll just keep texting.
But when I pick up my phone, I’m surprised to find it’s Zach. My heart gives a little flutter when I see his name on the screen. Stupid heart. Doesn’t it know we’re trying to not care about him?
Hey how are you doing?
It’s the same question he asked Saturday and the same question that Amanda has asked countless times as well. Frankly, I’m tired of it. It’s a good thing I haven’t told my family yet or replying to “how are you” texts would be a full-time job. It’s a cranky way to think and I know I’ll have to tell them eventually, but for now, I’m keeping it to myself.
Hanging in there and looking for jobs to apply for.
I hit send and my thumbs hover over the screen as I try, against my better judgment, to think of something else to say. I know I should just keep the conversation short, but after three days holed up in the apartment, I’m craving human connection and Zach would really hit the spot.
What about you?
It’s not the most original inquiry, but it’s the best I can do today. He replies right away.
Pretty good. I was wondering if you’re busy tonight? I wanted to stop by and bring you something.
I stare at the screen, my brain kicking into overdrive. What could he possibly want to bring me? Is it, like, some kind of gift? Curiosity consumes me.
Sure, what time?
Not that it actually matters what time. I’m free for the foreseeable future.
6:00 good?
Works for me
Ok see you then
I glance at the time and see that it’s only 4:00 pm right now, which means I have two full hours to obsessively ruminate on what he’s bringing and why. I exhale loudly in the empty apartment and return my attention to the job listings I was methodically examining before he texted. There don’t seem to be a lot of listings in the corporate law realm, and I wonder if it’s because firms aren’t hiring right now—the holiday season is notoriously slow for industries outside of retail—or if the kind of position I’m looking for is one that wouldn’t normally be advertised. I haven’t had to apply for jobs since I got hired at Springfield & Springfield, and even then, I didn’t have to look far for the opportunity since they recruit heavily from the pool of new graduates at my alma mater.
I close my laptop. It’s time for a break. I should make some dinner for Amanda tonight since she’s working and I’m a stay-at-home roommate now. It would at least ease my need to feel useful and productive, and since we finished the last of her pot of soup last night, we don’t have any plans for dinner.
A quick check of the pantry and freezer reveals all the ingredients for lasagna, a classic comfort food that’s perfect for this cool, cloudy day, and chocolate chip cookies, a classic that’s perfect for any kind of day. I put on some music and get to work, starting with the cookies. It’s almost enough to distract me from the fact that Zach is coming over. I tell myself it’s not a big deal, but I can’t resist the urge to smooth my hair and brush on a hint of mascara. I leave my comfy clothes on, though. No shame in my leggings and fuzzy socks game.
The apartment smells strongly of a sweet and savory mashup of vanilla and basil by the time I hear a knock on the door. My heart rate speeds up as I walk calmly to answer it, like a very sensible adult person who has no reason to be affected by who’s outside. I arrange my face into a pleasant, welcoming smile and open the door.
“Hi…what have you got there?” My brows dip in confusion as I take in the large box in Zach’s arms and the collection of shopping bags hanging from his elbow.
“It’s a tree,” he says with a tentative smile. “Just a small one. And ornaments. I know you don’t have a lot of room for decorations, but I thought getting to do a little holiday decorating might cheer you up since I know you were bummed about missing that at your parents’ house.”
I swallow down the lump of emotion that swells in my throat at his thoughtfulness and hold the door open wide to allow him in. “I can’t believe you did this,” I say as he enters and piles everything on the floor.
“Why?” he asks with a smile as he dusts off his hands. “This is the kind of thing friends do for each other.”
My stomach twists when he says “friends”, taking me back for an instant to the moment he made it clear that that’s all we are. But how can I not be grateful for a “friend” who’s sweet enough to do something like this for me? If friendship is all I get, it will have to be enough.
And the fact that my friend is hotter than summertime? Well, I’ll just have to ignore that and focus on his other strengths like his obvious thoughtfulness, the way he goes out of his way to take care of me in ways that I don’t even know I need…
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t dwell on him at all. Maybe I can just live in the moment and not think about anything other than the fun surprise he brought me. Keep it surface-level.
“Let’s see the tree,” I say, gesturing to the box with a smile.
His whole body relaxes at my acceptance of his presence, and he returns my smile before reaching down to rip open the box and pull out the cutest little tree I’ve ever seen. It’s white and no more than four feet tall, with the lights built in and glittery frost dusting the branches. Zach grimaces as the glitter sprinkles the floor and his boots liberally.
“Where do you want this?”
I survey our little apartment. I wasn’t lying when I told Mom there wasn’t a lot of space, but you’d better believe I’m going to make room for this adorable little tree.
“One second,” I tell him, and I skip around the couch and coffee table to pull an armchair out of the corner. I move it over beside the door, settling it over a couple pairs of boots Amanda and I left lined up to dry.
“There, that should work.”
Zach dutifully carries the tree over and settles it in between a bookcase on one side and our entertainment center on the other, the branches brushing each piece of furniture. It barely fits with only millimeters to spare. Kneeling, he tugs the cord up and over to share the power strip behind the TV. When he pushes the plug into the strip, the tree lights up, silhouetting him with a soft glow.
“Oh.” My soft gasp makes him turn around, and he smiles when he sees my hands clasped under my chin.
He pushes himself up and moves to stand beside me. “Like it?”
“It’s perfect.”
He chuckles. “It doesn’t even have any ornaments yet.”
“Oh, that’s right!” I feel my eyes widen with excitement. “I almost forgot about the ornaments.”
“Here.” He bends and swipes up one of the shopping bags sitting beside the empty tree box, handing it to me before reaching for the other one. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I made a few guesses. Hopefully, they’ll work.”
I pull out a box of glittery shatterproof ornaments in a rainbow of colors and set it on the coffee table, then retrieve a second box full of shiny silver orbs that look almost like disco balls. “These are perfect!” I exclaim. “I love all the colors. My mom is a hardcore traditionalist, so she’s a stickler for red, green, and gold ornaments. This is going to be so fun!”
I sink down onto the floor in front of the tree and pry open the boxes. “Come help me,” I say, looking up at Zach, who is grinning as he watches me. My eyes fall on the bag in his hand. “What’s in that one?”
His eyes twinkle and he holds it out. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”
I push up to my knees and accept it. I reach into the bag with anticipation, and I’m not disappointed. The first thing I pull out is a pink tree skirt with multi-colored pom-poms sewn around the edge, which I don’t hesitate to spread around the base of the tree. Next is a tree topper made of shiny silver and gauzy white ribbons that swirl out in all directions. It’s like a fancy bow and a snowflake had a baby, and I love it.
“Wow,” I breathe. “Where did you find this?”
“There’s a Christmas store in Mt. Juliet that sells all kinds of things.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It was a little overwhelming, to be honest.”
“You went all the way to Mt. Juliet? You didn’t have to…” I stop myself, pressing my lips together before curving them up into a smile. I look him in the eye and say, “I’m glad you did that.”
“Me too,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. His expression is soft and kind of wistful. Is he thinking of Christmases past and fond holiday memories?
I pat the floor beside me and scoot over to make more room. “Here. Sit.”
Scooting over doesn’t do much good. Zach obediently lowers himself to the floor beside me and it seems like the room shrinks. He leans in to grab an ornament, his shoulder brushing mine. I can feel his body heat even through my oversized sweatshirt and I realize that he’s wearing only a forest green T- shirt with his jeans and boots, despite the chilly late-November temperature outside today.
“Where’s your jacket? Aren’t you cold?”
“Nah, I run hot,” he says, with a smile. “My dad was always the same way. If you saw him wearing a coat, that meant it was really, really cold outside.”
He runs hot. I can’t disagree with that statement on any level.
“I’m always cold. My family and friends make fun of me for staying bundled up from October through April. I have quite the extensive collection of sweatshirts and wool socks. Do you have any collections?” I know I’m babbling, but I had to say something to shift my thoughts away from his heat level.
He gives me an odd look, then shakes his head. “I’m not much of a collector. Unless you count boots,” he concedes, sticking out one leg and tugging up the hem of his jeans to display the pair he’s currently wearing. They’re tan with dark laces and made of soft-looking leather, broken in but not worn. “I have several casual pairs and then a lot of different work boots for hot and cold weather. Some are waterproof, some are taller, some are shorter—I like to have whatever I need to keep my feet comfortable while I’m working. I even have a pair of cowboy boots.”
“Really? I didn’t peg you for a cowboy boot kind of guy.” Although now that the thought has entered my mind, I can totally picture him in cowboy boots, with a big belt buckle and a cowboy hat, a plaid shirt with pearl snap buttons, thumbs hooked into his belt loops…
Stop it, Brenna.
I clear my throat and lean away from him to hang an ornament on the far side of the tree. “I mean, not that I’ve thought about what kind of shoes you wear. Obviously, you can wear whatever kind of shoes you want. Or clothes, for that matter.”
What is wrong with me?
Oh yeah, I have a crush on a guy who only wants to be friends and it’s frying my brain. How could I forget?
I pop up from the floor, taking a handful of ornaments with me to spread over the top half of the tree while also putting some space between us. We work quietly until all the ornaments are hung and the topper is securely fastened to the uppermost branch. Zach gathers the empty boxes and I step back to take it all in.
It’s…magnificent.
I mean, I know it’s small, but it’s so beautiful, so my style with the fun colors and glitter and white underneath it all. It’s light and bright and wonderful, and I couldn’t have made it better if I’d chosen everything myself.
“How did you know what to get?” I ask. “You nailed my style perfectly.”
He shrugs like he didn’t just pull off an amazing feat. “I just bought things that reminded me of you. I’m glad you like it.”
These things reminded him of me? I’m not sure what to do with that.
“I love it,” I assure him. My gaze meets his and holds there, something passing between us as we stand in the glow of the new tree that we assembled together. Something flickers in his eyes, a fleeting emotion that makes my heart skip a beat.
But as quickly as I see it, it’s gone again, replaced by a pleasant smile. He clears his throat. “I actually have one more thing. I left it in my truck in case you thought this was too much, but I can go get it if you want?”
I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Yes, I want. I’m brimming with Christmas spirit now, so keep the holiday cheer coming.”
He returns my nudge with a playful grin. “I’ll be right back, then.”
He’s only gone a few minutes, and I spend the time straightening and fluffing a few branches, and adjusting a few ornaments to be just right. When the door opens again, I turn to see him holding up a large wreath, white to match the tree, with sparkling snowflakes and silver ribbons adorning it.
My hands fly to my cheeks. “Zach! It’s beautiful.”
He fishes in his pocket with one hand and withdraws a Command hook. “Here’s something to hang it with, in case you need it.”
I shake my head with a slow smile. “You really thought of everything. I can’t believe you told my mom you’re not much of a decorator.”
He shrugs. “Just because I don’t do much of it doesn’t mean I don’t know how. I also know how to tango from my time in Argentina, but you’ve never seen me do it.”
No, I haven’t, but now I want to more than anything in the world.
“Let’s hang it up.” I reach for the hook, choosing to let his dance revelation pass without comment. I pull it out of the package and stick it to the inside of the door, facing the kitchen. Then, I carefully settle the wreath into place and admire it.
When I turn around, Zach looks amused, one brow arched. “I thought wreaths were supposed to go on the other side of the door.”
“They are. But I like this wreath, and I want it on the inside where I can see it better.”
He dips his head in concession. “Hard to argue with that.”
I put my hands on my hips and do a slow turn to survey the whole apartment. It’s amazing how much just a tree and a wreath can really bring the place to life and fill it with an air of excitement and anticipation. There’s only one thing missing.
“Wait here,” I tell Zach. I dash to my room and open my closet. In a box at the back are the meager Christmas decorations that Amanda and I do put out every year because we’re not total Grinches. I pull the box toward me and flip open the lid. I withdraw two matching red stockings and weighted hangers decorated with reindeer.
Carrying it all into the living room, I place them on the bookshelf with the stockings hanging down in front of the books. “There,” I say, standing back to nod in satisfaction.
“Stockings?” Zach asks. I feel as much as see him come to stand beside me. It’s like he has this electrified aura around his body that tickles my senses when we’re close.
“Yep. Amanda and I have been roommates for five years and our holiday tradition from the very first Christmas is that we fill up a stocking for each other. We don’t open them on Christmas morning, though, because I’m usually at my parents’ house and she’s either working or with her family. So we open them together a day or two after Christmas, to kind of keep the holiday going a little longer.”
“I like that,” Zach says. “Maybe I could get my best friend to trade stockings with me.”
I look at him quickly. “Do you think he would?”
He’s already grinning and shaking his head. “I was kidding, that would be weird. Besides, he has a wife and kid with stockings to fill. He doesn’t need another person to be responsible for.”
Do I detect a hint of longing in his voice? It dawns on me that he’s done all this to bring me some Christmas cheer and he doesn’t have anyone to do the same for him.
“I’m going to get you a stocking,” I tell him.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Hey, that’s my line.” We share a laugh. “Seriously, I’m going to get you a stocking and I’m going to hang it right here with ours and I’m going to fill it with goodies. And I’m not even sure what all you’re into besides lawn care and running, so you’ll probably be very surprised by some of the things I pick.”
“Whatever you choose will be perfect,” he says, his voice husky. Is it my imagination or do his eyes look a little misty? Shoot, that makes my eyes feel misty and I’m not about to ruin this fun evening with tears, even the good, empathetic kind.
The timer on the oven goes off and I breathe a discreet sigh of relief. Saved by the bell.
“Hey, you should stay for dinner,” I tell him as I walk to the kitchen to take out my lasagna. It looks perfect, all bubbly and cheesy as I set it on the stovetop to cool. “Amanda will be home soon and we can all eat together.”
“I don’t think I could say no if I wanted to,” Zach says, his eyes half closed as he inhales deeply. “The smell has been driving me crazy since I got here.”
My answering grin is perhaps a little too self-satisfied. “Then it’s settled. It’ll be ready in just a few more minutes after I make garlic bread to go with it.”
“I can be patient for garlic bread.”
I take out the half a loaf that remains of the bread mom sent home a few days ago and slice it in half longways. I give the butter I set out to soften earlier a stir to incorporate the parsley and minced garlic I added and then spread it in a thick layer over both halves of the bread before sliding the baking sheet into the oven.
“Anything I can do to help?” Zach asks as I wipe the crumbs from the counter.
“Sure. Why don’t you get us something to drink? Cups are in the cabinet by the fridge.”
While he’s doing that, I pull out three plates and set our tiny little four-person table. Rummaging around under the sink, I come up with a peppermint scented candle I bought last Christmas that hasn’t quite been used up and light it for the middle of the table. The empty fourth place is the perfect spot for potholders to set the lasagna on.
“Honey, I’m home.” Amanda sweeps through the door with a burst of cool air and stops when she sees our visitor. “Oh, hello.”
“Amanda, this is Zach,” I say. “He stopped by and I asked him to stay for dinner.”
“Nice to meet you,” Zach says, saluting her with a water glass.
“Likewise. What’s all this?” Amanda asks, looking around the transformed living area as she shrugs out of her coat. “It looks like Christmas came while I was at work.”
“That’s pretty much what happened. Zach brought some stuff to help me decorate since I had to miss out on decorating my parents’ house. Doesn’t it look great?”
Amanda’s smile is mischievous at best, devious at worst. “It sure does. What a thoughtful guy.”
“So, how was work?” I ask hastily, hoping to distract her from whatever foolishness she is contemplating.
“I was only puked on once today, so pretty good.”
Zach looks confused. “She’s a pediatric nurse,” I explain. “We talk about bodily fluids pretty freely around here.”
“Ah, I see.”
“You’re not squeamish, are you?” Amanda peers at him. “It’s okay if you are, but I can’t promise we’ll always remember not to talk about gross stuff.”
Zach laughs. “I have a pretty strong stomach, so don’t be shy on my account.”
“I think I like you,” Amanda says with a wink, and I can barely control my urge to scowl. I know Amanda, and she’s being friendly, not flirty, but I still have a gut reaction to seeing her wink at him like that. Because the thing is, she’s absolutely gorgeous with her smooth blonde hair, light smattering of freckles, and blueberry eyes. Men notice her wherever she goes, and if I’m honest, I don’t want Zach to be one of them.
But it seems my worries are unfounded because when I glance at him, I see that his eyes are on me, watching and reading me. I wonder if he saw the flash of possessiveness that zinged through me. I wonder if he sees the attraction that I’ve been trying to hide since the almost-kiss debacle. I look away, busying myself with getting the parmesan out of the refrigerator.
“So, tell me about yourself, Zach,” Amanda says before moving to wash her hands. As a nurse who sees what she sees, she washes her hands a lot, especially after coming home from the hospital.
“Not much to tell.” He sets the last drink on the table. “I own a lawn care business and I’m friends with Brenna.”
“What do you do for fun?”
“Uh…exercise?” He gives this answer haltingly after a moment of thought.
“No, no, I think you misunderstood the question,” Amanda says with a laugh. “What hobbies and interests do you have?”
I listen for his answer with great interest, but he just frowns and shakes his head. “I’ve been realizing lately I don’t really have any hobbies. I mostly just…work.”
“And hang out with Brenna,” she says, looking between the two of us.
“Yeah, and that.” He looks over at me with a small smile.
“You sound a lot like her,” Amanda observes. “She doesn’t have any hobbies either.”
“Hey! I’m sitting right here.” I wave my hand in the air. “And I do have hobbies.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?” She leans forward on the counter and rests her chin in one hand, looking at me in challenge.
I bend down and pull the bread from the oven, to give myself time to think. “I go to the gym at least three or four nights a week.” I know I’m plagiarizing Zach’s answer, but it buys me time to come up with more.
“Maintaining your health doesn’t count,” she protests, waving my response off.
“And I like cooking,” I say, holding up the bread as proof.
“True, but when was the last time you made something before this week?”
I dig around in my memory and come up blank. Usually, I pick up food on the way home or eat whatever Amanda has cooked, though I do my part to make sure the pantry is stocked.
“See, that’s my point,” she says when I don’t answer right away. “You’ve been so busy with that soul-sucking job that you didn’t have time to do anything you enjoyed. You never even read that book I gave you for your birthday, did you?”
I wince. “No.” I slump down and let my head loll dramatically over the back of the chair. “You’re right, I don’t have any hobbies either.”
Amanda sits in the chair to my right, patting my shoulder. “It’s okay, we can fix this. We need to get both of you a pastime that doesn’t involve work. Or going to the gym.”
When Zach takes the third chair, she looks up from scooping a serving of lasagna onto her plate. “What do you think you might like to do, Zach? Pick something and Brenna will try it with you, then she can pick the next thing y’all do. It’ll be more fun if you guys try new things together.”
I roll my eyes. “Amanda, I really don’t think—” Zach surprises me by cutting me off.
“Okay.”