“It’s still Thanksgiving. Don’t you have some high opinion on waiting until December at least?”
“Normally Jack and I decorate this weekend because it is the longest break before the madness of finals. The HOA requires some sort of non-denominational decorations in December.” I shrugged. “Plus, I like it.”
I liked making new memories around this time of year to compensate for all the years of shit I had behind me. I’d been thinking about the holidays a lot lately. I’d imagine what it would be like to decorate the tree with Jack and Suzie. This would be the only Christmas I got with her.
“Will Jack mind if we do decorate without him?”
“For as cool as Jack is most of the time, he turns into a downright diva when untangling Christmas lights.”
She laughed. “I could see that.” She popped up excitedly. “Okay. I’m going to go make hot chocolate. Let’s get festive!”
She sprinted into action before I could respond. I was glad that for once I hadn’t tried to talk it out and just did something that made her happy. Her whole demeanor was brighter already. My soul swelled.
By the time I brought down all the boxes from the attic she had the cocoa made. Bing Crosby crooned from the old record player and the warm crackling of the music filled the air with romance.
She gestured to the fire she built. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Nice job.” It burned bright and evenly. “Mind what?”
“I know men like to make the fires.” She twisted her hands through the long sleeves of her shirt.
“Right.” I scoffed. “Now take off your shoes and go make me a sandwich.”
She started to slip off her shoes. “Suzie. Jesus. I’m kidding.” I thought by now she could recognize my particular brand of deadpan humor. This was why I shouldn’t try to be funny.
She smoothed her braid over her shoulder. “Oh, obviously.” She brought me a mug of cocoa. “Here. Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
We clunked the mugs and took tentative sips.
“The boxes are labeled, so anything marked tree we’ll have to wait on. I hope it’s okay, but I like getting a real tree. I know it’s a little more work, but the authenticity is worth it in my opinion.”
I started sorting through the boxes. We didn’t have a ton of stuff, but Jack and I had made a decent holiday collection since college. When I glanced up, Suzie was chewing on her lip and nodding.
“That sounds nice.” There was something about her tentative posture that conveyed she was holding back.
“Are you sure? If you prefer a fake, I’m sure there will be some sales tomorrow. We can go buy one. Though honestly, all those Black Friday sales are scams. They either mark down garbage or mark things up just to put them on ‘sale’ at regular price. It’s a whole racket.” As I rambled her face was unreadable. “But if you prefer to go out tomorrow, we can.”
“No. I don’t mind at all. Thank you for asking what I wanted.” Her words came out tight at the end. Her hands were clasped behind her back. “Come here.”
I stood from the box I had been digging through and cleared my throat. There was something about her behavior that caused my heart to pick up the pace. The closer I stepped, the bigger her smile grew. She stopped herself by catching her bottom lip between her teeth. The color and sight of it dragging between her perfect teeth was hypnotic. I wanted to explore the softness there.
I stopped right in front of her. “Yes?”
“Hiya, Ford.” From behind her she produced a little bunch of plastic mistletoe and held it above her head.
She looked up innocently when the attached silver bell rang once. Her gaze dropped to my lips and her tongue flicked out to wet her own. Jesus.
“Suzie, I thought after last time… Maybe it isn’t the best…”
She closed the distance between us, her breasts pressing firmly into my chest. “This doesn’t count. It’s mistletoe. It’s basically a law. You don’t want to kiss me, Ford?”
Her thick eyelashes blinked slowly. Her free arm dropped to my shoulders. She rocked her hips slowly as Bing Crosby crooned about a white Christmas. Of course, I wanted to kiss her. Day or night, sick or healthy, dressed up or dressed down. I wanted to always be kissing her. How could she not see it written all over my face?
“It’s not that. I’m not explaining myself well.”
“So just stop.” She rested her finger against my lips. “Stop trying to explain all the things you want and feel. Stop trying to talk and rationalize and contain yourself and just show me.”
