The Santa Shack Up – by Susannah Erwin #4
We sit together in silence. I hear him breathe, soft exhalations in the dark.
I’m used to Shack’s usual scent of pine needles and cranberry air freshener, but there’s something different in the air, a mix of leather and citrus.
My cardigan constricts my limbs, the wool too heavy to bear, and I shrug off the sweater before I suffocate. “So what?—”
“Why did you—” he says at the same time.
I laugh. I sound nervous even to me.
He flashes a close-lipped smile and says, “Ladies first.”
“No, you go ahead.”
“Brawn before beauty? Sure.” But before I can react to his words, he shifts on the steps, the better to look at up me and pin me in place with his gaze. It’s oddly disconcerting. I’ve never been the one able to look down before. “Why didn’t you want to go to the party?”
A harsh chuckle bursts from my lips. “Why would I want to go? That’s my definition of the Seventh Circle of Hell. The real question is, why aren’t you there?”
He looks away. “Like you, I’m not in the mood.”
I scoff. “Yeah, right. You’re the returning football hero. It would be oh so difficult for you to walk into that room.”
His shoulders come up, almost as if my words physically delivered a blow, but he doesn’t respond.
Me and my big mouth. “Sorry.” I leave the throne and sit down next to him on the steps. They’re just big enough to fit the two of us side by side. “I heard you were suspended from your team. That must be rough.”
He nods, his gaze still fixed on the opposite wall. “I’ve had better weeks.” Then he turns to face me. We’re so close, I can see day-old whiskers shading his jaw. “Did you ever think things would be different?”
He holds my gaze with his. And I know we aren’t talking about the Cheng party anymore. “Yes,” I say softly. “I thought I would go to college and high school Lizzie would cease to exist. I counted on it.”
His arm brushes mine. His heat scorches through the thin blouse I’m wearing. “How’s your dad? Sorry I didn’t ask sooner.”
“Getting better.” My nose starts to tingle, as it usually does when I think about Dad, and I clear my throat. “But hey, you did go away. You got out of here.”
He grunts. “You take yourself with you wherever you go.”
“Oh, c’mon.” I dare to nudge him with my shoulder. “Most people would think taking Sean Boswick with them would be a good thing, Mr. Homecoming King and Most Likely to Succeed and All State First Team.”
“Even you?” His gaze bores into mine.
I glance away and giggle. I’m not proud of it. “Of course.”
“After what happened last Christmas?”
Hot heat spreads over every inch of my body, and for the first time since I entered the Shack the blush has nothing to do with Sean’s proximity.
“Gee, thanks for bringing that up. And I thought we were talking like two adult humans.” I stand up and shrug my cardigan back on.
“Make sure the door is closed when you leave. We don’t need more vermin breaking in to the Shack. ”
Sean springs to his feet and grabs my hand before I can take two steps. His grip is warm and firm as his fingers curl around mine. “I’m sorry.”
I know this time he’s not talking about my dad. But I can’t look at him. “Yeah, well, none of us are perfect. Not even you.” I try to pull my hand free. I need to get out of the Shack. I refuse to break down in front of him.
My dirty secret? I’ve been in love with Sean since he offered to share his ice pop with me in kindergarten. And all the way through elementary school, I saw no reason why my “Mrs. Sean Boswick” doodles wouldn’t become a reality.
Then the hormones kicked in. Mine made me even more aware of Sean.
The way his blue eyes crinkle in the corners when he’s amused but doesn’t want to show it.
The way he catches his lower lip with his top teeth when he’s concentrating.
The way he focuses his full attention on you when you’re speaking, as if you are the only person in the world in that moment.
The way he fills out those skintight football pants.
When high school started, I told myself to get over Sean.
By that time, he was firmly in the school’s upper echelon, and I was at the bottom.
The kicker—and I don’t mean on the football team—is Sean is smart.
So smart. And every time I thought, This is it, he is an erased smudge on the journal of my life , Sean would say something brilliant in class and I’d tumble down the well of longing once again.
Damn him for coming here and reminding me of what I want but cannot have. I tug my hand harder, and this time he lets go.
“See you around,” I say over my shoulder.
I won’t, though. Not if I can help it. And there is no way I’m going to ask him to play Sexy Santa now. Let Angie do it if she is so keen on the idea.
“Lizzie,” he says, and there is something in his voice that causes me to pause my steps. “Do you know why Coach suspended me?”
I shrug. “Google says you broke team rules.”
“I punched a teammate. Made his nose bleed.”
“What?” I whirl to face him.
“He was going to assault a girl.” His eyes glitter in the dim light.
“That’s horrible!” I gasp. “Why did you get the suspension?”
He ignores my question. “She was another freshman. I didn’t really know her, but she used to hang around the older guys. And then...” His gaze drops to the floor.
“What happened?” My throat is tight.
“We were at a team party. I didn’t know she was there until people started talking. She’d had too much to drink and passed out. Her legs were…spread. And her skirt—” He makes a lifting motion with his hands. “—was at her waist. She had underwear on,” he hastens to add.
An unpleasant chill runs down my spine. “And?”
“Some guys took their phones out to take pictures. Put them on the socials.”
My mouth tastes of iron and salt. Perspiration dots my palms and I rub them on my jeans. “No one helped her?” I asked.
He shakes his head. “Jesse—that’s the guy I punched—kept others away. He thought it would funny to take off…more of her clothes. And do who knows what else. I couldn’t let him.” He takes a deep breath.
“I’m glad you punched him.” The words are inadequate for the emotions I dare not examine swirling around me.
His lip curls. “He deserved it. Then a bigger fight broke out. By the time security came, someone had taken her to the hospital and it was my and my friends’ words against him and his friends. Jesse’s a potential NFL draft pick. I’m just a redshirt freshman. So.” He shrugs. “I got the suspension.”
“That’s terrible. And injust.” I mean it. Sincerely. “You’re a hero.”
Another shake of his head. “Nah. I was too little, too late.” He reaches his right hand out and takes mine again. “I’m sorry, Lizzie.” And we both know he’s apologizing for last year.
Warmth starts where our fingers join and spreads, tendrils unfurling through my veins.
“You already said that,” I blurt out. Moments like this don’t happen to me.
I don’t get an apology from the football hero.
“And you don’t have to apologize. They were your friends, but you weren’t a part of the group.
And I was lucky. It was just a photo. They didn’t try anything near what Jesse tried to do. ”
“What they did was mean. And cruel.” His thumb rubs over my knuckles. The tendrils grow blossoms, bright joyful bursts of electricity making my pulse quicken. “I could have stopped them. Should have stopped them.”
I can scarcely breath. Part of me wonders when I’ll wake up and realize it’s a hallucination brought on by sleeping with the pillow he wore during his day as Santa. “What could you have done? You weren’t even there.”
“But they knew about Santa’s Workshop, and you working here, because of me.” His fingers twine with mine and I am simultaneously dying and coming to vivid, electrifying life.
“Sean, everyone knows about Santa’s Workshop. We’re the number one rated holiday activity in the greater vicinity. The gate says Sandoval Family Holiday Farm, I’m a Sandoval, you don’t need AP Calculus to put one and one together.”
“But the prank?—”
“The prank was awful.” I wait for the Hot Shame to wash over me as usual when I think about the Incident. But tonight, the searing embarrassment is more like a tingle of chagrin. “Who does that, puts itching powder in someone’s clothes?”
And then takes a photo of me adjusting my highly irritating tights when I thought I was safely out of the public’s sight. The memes were instantaneous and numerous: “TFW you have too much elf-confidence.” “Oops I elf-ed up.” “Elves do it for them-elves.” “Just elf-ing around.”
I shook my head free from the memory. “Nothing you could have done once the photo got out. But it was just a photo. Nothing critical shows. Not even my face.”
They at least had that much courtesy, plus not showing my face saved them from greater punishment. But everyone at school knew the candy-cane striped ass belonged to me.
“But—”
“Yes, I was humiliated.” That’s the understatement of the century. “But it could have been worse.” Also true.
His thigh presses against mine, a solid, comforting presence. “I still need to apologize. I never thought through how the prank must have affected you until my fight with Jesse. I should have said something sooner.”
I’m warm. So warm. And it’s not because we’re discussing the incident. “Apology accepted. Thank you. That means a lot.”
“I guess I thought you were invincible. You were always so strong.”
A strangled laugh escapes my lips. “Me? “Strong?”
“Well, you ignored me for four years.” He grins. “That took strength, right?” He waggles his eyebrows for extra effect.
“Egotist!” I knock his shoulder with mine. “And you ignored me. I thought we were friends.”
“No , I thought we were friends. And then you froze me out.”