BONDED by S.D. Harrison

Author:S.D. Harrison [Harrison, S.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-02T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

I spend my Saturday watching Christmas specials as I bake ten million sugar cookies no one will ever eat.

When I was younger, my dad and I would bake them together and wrap them into little gifts for our friends and neighbours. One of my favourite memories of him involves flour on our noses and sprinkles under our nails as we sang carols at the top of our lungs.

“I think my favourite are the reindeer faces. What do you think, Rayray?”

“It’s all about the Santas, Daddy,” I say, completely serious as though his reindeer comment is horribly absurd.

“But your favourite carol is about a reindeer,” he points out.

I tap my nose, considering it very, very carefully.

“Santa’s there, too, though,” I finally say.

“You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He pokes my nose with a flour-dipped finger and turns up the volume on the CD player.

It is typically a strict rule of mine not to think about him, but I make exceptions for Christmas. Christmas was always ours, something we shared, just the two of us. Even when he was alive Mom never cared for the holiday.

Although I now refuse to give treats as gifts–too sentimental–and I typically avoid covering myself in flour–too messy–and I exchange carols for movies–too painful–I continue to bake until my hands are no longer capable of stirring. Because of this, when Christmas Eve comes around I have copious amounts of cookies to busy myself inhaling.

I’m in the middle of eating a fat snowman when the doorbell chimes, forcing me out of my blankets and away from Elf, which is playing on TV. My mom is at work because people still need lawyers on Christmas Eve, apparently–it isn’t like either of us have friends who stop by randomly, anyway.

At least, we aren’t supposed to.

I pull open the door, expecting carollers or a rude salesman. Instead, I find myself face-to-chest with T.K. He isn’t wearing a proper jacket and the snow from above keeps sticking to his crimson sweater. It takes me a moment to look up and meet his eyes, and when I do, I regret it. They’re greener than usual, a mysterious twinkle causing them to sparkle like a freshly polished emerald. He’s freshly shaven, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s wearing new cologne. The faint smell of pine wafts off of him, reminding me of a Christmas tree. He’s more put together than usual, not that he ever appears dishevelled.

Definitely not a good sign.

“I don’t know if I’m more concerned you know where I live, or that you’re actually here,” I say, distancing myself from his abs. He is what, sixteen-years-old? He shouldn’t even have abs.

“Small town,” he replies with a careless wave, like he randomly appears on girls’ doorsteps often–which he probably does. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“I wasn’t planning on it, no.”

“But you’ll get your nice outfit all wet.” A mischievous smile appears on his face as his hands lift in the air, palms up toward the falling snow.

I look down at what I’m wearing and my cheeks become warm.

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