Chapter 10
“White Christmas” played over the speakers in the living room; Tanner had made a playlist of Christmas songs for the night. Mr. and Mrs. Quinn sat in their chairs, Mrs. Quinn with a cup of hot chocolate instead of her usual cup of tea. The chocolaty aroma drifted in the air.
My half-filled cup sat on the floor in front of me. My lip still burned from taking a sip too soon; the mini marshmallows on top had been too tempting to let swim in the drink.
I was just happy to still be allowed in the house. I glanced at Mrs. Quinn, still waiting for her to change her mind about how I’d handled the whole Gavin-wrist thing.
Gavin sat next to me on the couch, wearing pajama pants covered in Rudolph’s face and a Santa hat; a bell jingled every time he moved his head.
His cast, filled with dozens of signatures, still clung to his wrist. He’d made me sign it three times.
He hadn’t explained why, only said I had to, and I was pretty sure I’d never say no to him again.
We were setting up a second game of Ticket to Ride on the table in front of us, my victorious blue trains stacked in neat piles of five.
Calvin had joined Tanner for the last couple of days of Christmas break since Tanner wanted to stay at his family home for the holidays.
I tried to stay in my lane, leaving whenever I was alone in a room with the two of them.
“I would’ve won if you didn’t keep blocking my routes,” Gavin said as he stood up then sat back on his feet.
“Stop staring daggers at where you want to go, and I won’t be able to block you on every turn.”
“Yeah, dude, that’s like calling for a fastball and telling the batter what’s coming; it’s never gonna work,” Jake said. He had joined us for the night since his mom had picked up one last shift before Christmas morning.
“Shut up,” Gavin responded.
“Dork,” Jake said, jumping off the floor and lightly punching Gavin on the thigh.
“Chill out before you knock over the board or break your other wrist,” Tanner said. He sat on the floor opposite us with Calvin to his right.
“Gavin, do you need me to team up with you?” Calvin said. “We can block everyone else’s routes together if you want.”
“Sure,” Gavin giggled.
What dumbasses. That was not how this game worked; you couldn’t randomly team up to block routes when you didn’t know what anyone had. I stared at Tanner; we made eye contact, shaking our heads in disgust at what those two were scheming.
Calvin stood, the ceiling light reflecting off his glasses. “Does anyone need a refill before game two?”
“I’ll take one,” Zach said. He lay on the carpet, scrolling on his phone. He refused to play board games—some story about Tanner throwing the board across the room when he was ten. The most shocking part of that story was that it’d only happened once.
“I’ll help, Cal,” Gavin said, springing off the couch and grabbing Jake’s mug along with his own.
Calvin stared me down, his sky-blue eyes locking onto mine like he knew me. Which he didn’t. “Ready for more, Easton?”
“Sure. Thank you, Calvin,” I said. I handed him my cup before scratching at an itch somewhere so deep and hidden beneath my right ear I couldn’t get to it. Gavin and Calvin walked out of the room, likely conspiring about playing board games the wrong way.
“Wanna open your gift from me?” Tanner asked, a smile spreading. He wore a Mizzou T-shirt, not at all matching everyone else’s red and green.
“You got me a present?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“I didn’t grab you anything, dude, sorry,” I said.
“Doesn’t matter. Follow me.” He jumped up and headed toward the kitchen, the bottoms of his pajama pants dragging on the carpet.
I stood and followed, knowing I didn’t have much of a choice. The lights were brighter when we got into the kitchen, with specks of white flashing in my eyes as they took a second to adjust.
“Where are you guys going?” Calvin said. His shoulders tensed as he looked at Tanner’s back; Tanner had already flown by Calvin and Gavin.
“Giving Easton his gift,” Tanner said, not bothering to turn toward his boyfriend.
Calvin looked at me, his face scrunched. I shrugged my shoulders and followed Tanner up the stairs, my right hand sliding up the railing, smooth and cold.
We entered Tanner’s room; it was the first time the two of us had been alone in here in... a long time. Tanner opened his desk drawer and pulled out a box wrapped in Cardinals wrapping paper with a green bow on top.
“Open it!” he said, shoving the box into my chest.
I ripped free a piece of tape that wasn’t pushed down hard enough. I hated the sound of paper wrinkling, so I tore it as quickly as possible before tossing it on the floor.
Inside was a sliding mitt with the face of the Grinch on the cover. I was the only person on the baseball team without a sliding mitt, a fact I’d never said out loud, but clearly Tanner had picked up on it.
How did he always notice the little things? Maybe because there were no little things for Tanner—just things that mattered and things that didn’t. Me not having a sliding mitt mattered to him, so he’d taken care of it.
Nobody ever noticed me like this. Not anymore. My grandparents tried, but it was tough to see when you had no idea what you were looking for. But Tanner noticed. He always did.
Something warm pushed at my ribs before I could decide whether to let it—the same thing that ambushed me all of last year.
“Dude,” I said, looking up at him.
He smiled wider than he had since he’d finished up his semester at school and come back home. It hit me like the half-second after I pick up a pitch and already know I’m going to plaster it.
For a second, I just looked at him, his eyes lit up like the tree downstairs. The way he watched my reaction as if it was the gift itself. I could’ve stayed in that second the rest of the night. There were about a hundred things I wanted to say.
“This is awesome” was the only one that made it out.
“Not a problem, East,” he said, a fist coming up between us.
I pounded it, a part of me wanting to wrap him in a hug, to show him what this meant to me. To feel his touch again.
I didn’t know what to do with my hands—caught somewhere between the joy of such a great gift and how badly I wished I hadn’t shown up empty-handed.
A voice came from the door, and whatever was left of that second was gone: “What are you two up to?”
“Nothing, Cal, just giving Easton his gift,” Tanner said, his eyes leaving mine and heading toward him.
“Oh, what’s that?” he said, walking toward us.
“Sliding glove for baseball,” I said, handing the Grinch over to him. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“Oh, right. Tanner told me about that,” he said. “Pretty cool.”
His smile didn’t falter, and I didn’t know Calvin well enough to know if it was genuine. But my instincts kicked in, sending a sense of unease through my body. Or was it jealousy?
When no one talked, Calvin filled the void. “He’s great at giving gifts. He even got me this cashmere sweater that I’ve been begging for. He picked out the perfect color!”
Calvin looked at me, expecting a response better than the eye roll I wanted to give. “Pretty cool,” I said.
The three of us headed downstairs and finished the night’s second (then third) game of Ticket to Ride. I caught Calvin watching me as we packed up the game. His smile was still there, but I still couldn’t read it. Maybe it was nothing.
Music played softly in the background as I stood, and I said goodbye to all the Quinns, not wanting to leave but knowing I had to. Not my house. Not my boyfriend.
“Easton, wait,” Gavin said, “I need your help with something because of the cast.”
“Sure,” I responded, having heeded Mr. Quinn’s request. I twisted toward Gavin, expecting to have to pick up a box for him.
“I have to poop, and I need you to wipe my butt,” Gavin giggled, the gremlin laugh louder than the music.
“Good lord, Gavin, just stop talking,” Zach said, picking up the car keys from the basket next to the door.
After telling Gavin to wipe himself with his other hand, I followed Jake to Zach’s car so he could drive us home and we could get ready for Christmas morning. I hated having to ask for rides all the time.
I entered my house as quietly as I could, placing my shoes gently in the closet next to the door. Grandma was a light sleeper, and my grandparents had likely gone to bed hours ago.
Before getting into bed, I slid the sliding mitt back into its box, setting it on my nightstand like it was a gold bar. Instinctively, I moved toward the bottle under my bed but pulled up as I saw the Grinch staring back at me. I didn’t need a drink tonight.
Tomorrow would be Christmas morning, but I already knew nothing would top getting a gift that thoughtful from Tanner.