My breath hitches and that team of reindeer in my belly swirls around once again. “Okay.”
“Okay you’ll go?”
“Yes. I’ll go with you, Zebb.” I’d said something similar to him the first time he showed up at my place. He’d climbed the fire escape up three floors and knocked on my bedroom window. I had no idea how he knew it was my room, but my thoughts were filled more with the surprise of finding the boy who kissed me like I was the air he needed to breathe crouching outside my window.
“I’ll text you the details. Til tomorrow then.”
“Til tomorrow.”
3
Zebb arrives for our date in a pickup truck. The ride to the state championship will take roughly two hours as it’s held at a central university. The night is cold, and I’ve bundled up as best I can. However, the inside of his truck is warm and toasty and within minutes, I’m peeling off my jacket.
“No red or green tonight.”
I glance down at my clothing. I’d pulled out an old hoodie with my graduating year on the back which dates me. The item is the only thing I had with school colors on it. I hadn’t attended many athletic events during my high school years. If Zebb had been my boyfriend, I wouldn’t have missed any football games.
“Went with team spirit tonight.”
“You’re team spirit alright,” he teases, while weaving onto to the highway.
“What does that mean?”
“Each time I’ve seen you, you look like a sexy Christmas greeting card.”
“I do not.” I snort-laugh and Zebb swivels his head to look at me. His mouth falls open at the sound and I cover mine with two hands. He chuckles before biting the corner of his lip, holding the tender skin pinned under his teeth for a second.
“You must love the holiday.”
“Actually, I hate it.”
He sharply turns to me and then, just as fast, back to face the windshield. “How can you hate Christmas? What Grinch spit in your hot chocolate?”
“My mother,” I quickly retort before considering what I’d said. Silence falls between us. “You might remember I didn’t have a mom growing up.”
Zebb nods. “And you might remember I didn’t have a dad.” His absence is one reason Zebb had a scholarship to IA.
Zebb stays silent and the quiet calls for me to explain. I don’t typically share this story, but we have two hours to fill.
“She left on Christmas Eve when I was ten.” I wasn’t ready to explain why she decided to go or how she had returned.
“Fuck.” Zebb’s knuckles whiten where he grips the steering wheel.
“Yeah. My father canceled Christmas that year. And most years after that.”
“I’m so sorry, Eva.”
I shrug. “No worries.”
He glances at me once more. “But that shit messes with your head. And your heart.” The softening of his tone hints he understands.
I don’t respond.
“Well, we need to make you new memories for Christmas then. Get you back some holiday cheer.” His voice rises.
“I think I’m a little beyond believing in Santa Claus.”
He gasps. “Don’t say such a thing or he won’t visit you.”