Chapter Seven
We talk for another hour or so, moving on to lighter subjects and planning out our revenge against Archie – our actual revenge, because that silly little choking is sure to have taught him exactly nothing. The little freak loves that kind of near-death adrenaline rush.
To really teach him a lesson, I’ll be putting out three new fanfictions starring his famous online alter ego, CinniRoll47426, and his fellow CubeCraft friend, Mufasa7227. It will be detailed. It will be spicy. It will be… revenge . Cue the purple and green villain lighting and the evil laughter.
After outlining several plot points for these esteemed works, we make plans to finally decorate the Christmas tree tomorrow. Baz assures me he’s shaken out all of the bugs and tiny animals from it, and that he will shake it out a final time before he brings it in. I put Christmas tree prep on my mental to-do list, then I put it on my Bazzy-remind-me list by verbally relaying it to the man.
“I need to pull out the holiday decorations from the storage closet under the stairs tomorrow, then I need to get the gingerbread cookies in the oven so I can get them to your mom for decorating. A space in the living room needs to be cleared for the tree, and– oh! I have to set up the reindeer in the yard– sorry, garden – and the sleigh! We–” Meaning Baz. “–also need to get the lights strung up on the house. Christmas tree means Christmastime! No slacking!”
Bazzy hums a lazy assent, rubbing my back.
“We have to handle gifts, too! The wrapping paper is in the attic, so if you wouldn’t mind getting that down after we decorate the tree, I’d so appreciate it. And we ne–”
“Heidi.”
My mouth snaps shut, and I grimace.
“Sorry, Bazzy. I got a little carried away there.”
His hand on my back stops rubbing and transforms into an arm around my waist, hugging me to him.
“You never have to apologize to me,” he says, voice thick with exhaustion. “But if we’re going to be doing all of that, we need to sleep now.”
I nod. He’s right. We’ll have time for Christmas excitement tomorrow.
I wish him goodnight, and turn my head to land a kiss on his chest.
“Goodnight, baby,” he replies, then falls silent for thirty seconds before his body relaxes under mine and his soft snores reach my ears. I smile. Sleepy, sleepy boy. So cute.
I let myself fade into dreamland as well, the scents of ginger and nutmeg following me into dreams of foreign accents and almost kisses.
I wake up what feels like moments later, lying on Baz’s chest in a pool of sunlight, my cheek wet from the puddle of drool beneath it. Yikes.
I lift my head slowly, twisting to see if he’s awake yet. He is, unfortunately, and he’s smirking down at me, his eyes wandering from my face to the puddle of drool on his shirt and back. I narrow my eyes.
“Good morning,” I say congenially. “If you mention the drool, I will hurt you.”
His eyes crinkle.
Yes, ma’am.
“Ew, gross. Don’t call me ma’am. I am youth . I am not ma’am.”
Dark eyebrows rise.
“Yes, seriously! Don’t be rude! I– no, this is not an American thing. This is a woman thing, you big oaf!”
I huff and roll off him, taking the comforter with me for good measure. Mister No Manners can be a cold boy today, for all I care.
He follows me, stealing the blanket back with an ease that is, frankly, embarrassing for me, then he covers my body with his own.
His long hair falls in a dark curtain around my face, putting us in a world of seclusion, where all that exists is his face and mine, six inches apart. The air is warm with his breath, which reminds me to hold my own, lest he smell my morning yuckiness.
He chuckles, unconcerned about his own morning yuckiness – even though he really should be. Why should I have to be subjected to his bad breath?
“You should go brush your teeth,” I tell him, attempting to speak the words away from his face – and nose. Unfortunately, his hair has created a cave-like environment that traps germs, smells, and other unsavory things within. That is to say, now we’ve both stunk up the space.
I wiggle my arms up and around him, pulling his hair back from our faces and holding it in my grip at the back of his head, giving us some much-needed fresh air.
Head turned to the side, I speak, “You see how I have given us clean air? You see how I don’t speak directly into your face? You see how I tried to escape to scrub my teeth down to shiny, smell-good cleanness? Very demure of me. Very respectful . Do consider!”
He grunts. Of course. I roll my eyes.
“Seriously, Baz. We need to brush our teeth. Then we can play whatever game it is that you want to play.”
I pull his hair, a very clear signal for him get off me. A very clear signal that he ignores, because apparently he hates fresh breath.
“Basil!”
He leans down, pulling my hands with him, and kisses me – twenty percent mouth! And with morning breath! The man has lost his mind.
I grumble, pulling on his hair again, and he concedes, moving his stinky mouth away from me and rolling off the mattress. I roll in the opposite direction, falling to all fours on the other side of the bed, then pop up to my feet.
The cold air on my bare legs has me shivering. Stupid Archie. He better be out getting a new breaker box thing right this second. If we reach midday without heat, I will sic Baz on him, and I will not make him stop right when he gets to the good part.
Bazzy watches me from across the expanse of the bed, hair rumpled and chocolate eyes lazy with mischief. He appears unaffected by the icicles forming on the ceiling.
I point at him.
“You are not funny!”
He gives me one of his rare smiles, showing off plaque-covered teeth, I’m sure, though I cannot actually see the plaque from here, if I’m being totally honest.
My eyes narrow.
“I’m going to go brush my teeth now. You should do the same,” I say, smoothing out the extra-large t-shirt I’m wearing as I walk primly out of the room, chin up and eyes judging, pretending not to feel the cold seeping into my bones. It would ruin the whole vibe I’m trying to cultivate.
I’m nearly past Baz when he snaps at the air in my direction, causing me to squeal and stumble. I recover quickly, booking it to the hallway.
Stupid Baz. He ruined my perfect exit!
Deep laughter floats out from his doorway, and I pause to listen, smiling to myself. Basil laughter! As incredible as it is sparse. I must revel in this moment, soaking it in so that it might tide me over until the next joyful occurrence.
The laughter fades out slowly, turning into chuckles, then amused sighs, then silence, the sound moving around the room as he retrieves his clothes for the day.
When the silence hits, I hustle to the bathroom, not trying to get caught mooning over my best friend at whatever time in the morning it is right now – or at any time, actually.
In the bathroom, I scrub my teeth to within an inch of their life, flossing and rinsing like I get paid to do it. My teeth thank me, happy to be rid of the early-morning film of grossness.
Once my mouth has been thoroughly decontaminated of overnight germs, I go through the rest of my morning routine in the soft light coming through the small window above the toilet, hopping back and forth on my feet to keep warm.
My face gets washed. The bare minimum of my makeup gets done. My hair transforms from a tangled rat’s nest to a smooth lion’s mane.
I rub my arms, letting the friction thaw me out, and smile at myself in the mirror. Time for my Archie-prescribed affirmations.
“You are kind,” I start, powering through the awkwardness that is speaking to my own reflection. “You are a good person… mostly. You are respectfu– oh, crap,” I stop, shake my head, then start over. “ I am kind,” I correct. “ I am a good person… still mostly. I am respectful. I am a wonderful judge of character. I am smart. I do not take up too much space. I am not too much. I am deserving of time, attention, and love, just like anyone else. Well, except for sucky people. But I am not a sucky person, so that is an off-track thought that has no business being in these affirmations. I will move on from it, like the smart, capable young woman I am. Rabbit trails have no hold on me. I eat rabbit trails for breakfast!”
I nod, feeling very affirmed. No woman has ever been or will be more affirmed than I am at this moment. I have kicked affirmation butt today.
I leave the bathroom on bouncy feet and run into Basil, waiting outside the door.
“Oh!” I exclaim. “Sorry, Bazzy! I thought you’d use the one downstairs.”
My face flames, and I hope with all that I have in me that he did not hear me talking to myself.
No such luck.
His eyes crease with barely contained mirth. His lips quirk up a whole centimeter on both sides . I groan.
“Okay, well, I’m just going to go and die now. Enjoy your bathroom time!”
He snorts as I walk past him to my room, then enters the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.
I sigh, cringe, then attempt to shake it off. So I embarrassed myself, so what? Everyone embarrasses themselves sometimes. There’s no use being dramatic about it. Best to just move on. There’s nothing I can do about it now anyway, even if I wanted to.
Except die.
I glance at my window, doing quick math to discover that the jump would not, in fact, kill me. Maim me, maybe.
Bother.
In the absence of a decently high ledge, I approach my dresser and grab the first pair of socks I can find – an oversized fuzzy pair with pink and green polka dots. I hesitate, then pick out a second, plain white pair as well.
I hit up my pants drawer next, choosing my favorite pair of sweatpants. They’re black and cozy soft on the inside. They used to belong to Bazzy, until I pilfered them from him. I had to cut the bottoms of the legs off to make them fit, and even with that, I still have to roll the waistband several times if I don’t want them sliding right off of me.
I opt to keep Baz’s shirt that I slept in on and add the new warmth to my outfit. Oversized warm homeless person chic is the goal.
Once my lower half is adequately decked out in cold weather survival gear, I wander my way back to Bazzy’s room. His door is open, so I don’t bother knocking.
I find him lying in his bed, and I notice he’s put on a hooded sweatshirt – an excellent idea.
I pick one out from his closet and throw it on over the shirt that I’m wearing, then I twirl in circles.
“Look, Bazzy! I’m you!” I laugh, spinning my way toward the bed and crashing into it. I look at him.
An eyebrow raises. A devious little lip twitch.
No, you’re not , his eyes say. You’re you – the woman who eats rabbit trails for breakfast.
I scowl at his stupid, smirky face.
“If you don’t stop, I’m going to jump off the roof.”
Hot chocolate eyes roll.
Yeah, right.
My Christmas tree green eyes narrow in his direction.
“Don’t ruin my day when it’s barely begun, Basil Parker Cole. We are having a good day today. We are doing Christmas things. We are punishing Archie. We are not ruining it with any silly nonsense. Capiche?”
I glare at him.
His eyes sparkle with levity, matching the shine of the ring in his nose.
The North Star don’t got nothin’ on this boy.
He reaches across the bed to put a warm, rough hand on my face. His starry eyes soften, and his thumb caresses my cheek.
Okay, Heidi. I won’t ruin your day.
I close my eyes and lean into his hand, allowing myself a moment to enjoy the feel of his calluses on my skin.
My moment over, I pull away.
“Good!” I exclaim, then bounce out of the bed. “Off we pop then! There’s Christmas cheer to be had – and a little brat to put to work.”
I flounce out of the room, smiling over my shoulder at Baz, who follows me out. His lips tilt, and my heart takes flight.
Man, I love Christmas.