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She turns and folds herself into my arms.
I’m not a hugger.
I never have been, but I tolerate it for Lisa because I like her.
“Are you hungry?”
I grin. Lisa is also the only woman I’ll grin for, and she can read me like a book.
I don’t think about that too closely.
She rolls her eyes. “Of course you are.”
“I’m still growing,” I tell her.
She shakes her head as she sets about to make me a sandwich. “Turkey on wholewheat?”
“Thanks, Lisa,” I say. “I might just go wash up before Dad’s home from work.”
She smiles. “Okay. I’ll make us some coffee. You still drink coffee, right?”
“Sure,” I say. “Anything’s gotta be better than the instant crap we have back on campus.”
I take off upstairs, grabbing my bag as I go.
I don’t think about Luna or if she’s coming tonight, even though I know she will be. She and her mom are close, and she’s never missed Thanksgiving. It’s her next favorite holiday, aside from Christmas.
I know I probably shouldn’t have come, but that little voice in my head told me that I had to. Not to see my dad or Lisa, oh no, it was to see her.
It’s the only reason I’m here.
And I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.
We sit across the table from one another as my dad asks me about training and Lisa passes food around. She’s gone all out this year, and I know I’m going to put weight on by the time I go back to school on Sunday.
I wish I could focus, but all I can think about is that night at the frat party.
In fact, it’s all I can think about.
What I want to know is if that was her, what the fuck was she doing hiding in the closet?
I saw Payden downstairs. It had to be her.
Then, something hits me.
Holy fuck, was she with a guy? That would make perfect sense.
My temper flares, stunning me into even further silence.
Why the fuck am I acting this way? Why do I give a shit who she’s fooling around with?
She’s nineteen, almost twenty, she can do whatever she wants. Yet the thought of another man’s paws on her makes me see red. I shift in my seat as I try to avoid looking at her.
When she came in late, rushing into the den wearing jeans, a soft, beige colored sweater with a pumpkin knitted into the front, and white Converse, I had to bite my tongue.
Why does she wear those stupid sweaters? It’s no different at Christmas time. In fact, it’s even worse. And it’s kind of adorable.
One year, Lisa got us all matching pajamas, but I refused to put mine on. Now she gets Christmas blankets instead, in the hope that I’ll join them in their stupid traditions. I get she’s trying to make Christmas enjoyable, but we’re not little kids anymore.
