The ratty cover flips forward, hanging on by a thread as I hold it up for him to see,The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.
“Isn’t that a kids’ book?”
“Okay, first off, it’s a classic. And second, my mom gave it to me the last Christmas before she left us.” I share the second part quietly. “I read it every year. More so out of habit and tradition, than nostalgia.” He takes the book gently from my hands.
“Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” Preston encourages.
“Why weren’t you going home for Christmas? I mean, I’m sure your family misses you.” He stiffens, looking out the window. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to answer that.” I backtrack, trying to take my stupid foot out of my giant mouth.
“No, it’s fine.” The sad forced smile on his face says otherwise. “I don’t really have a home to go to. My parents died two years ago in a car accident. I had just started my freshman year at Kingston and I almost failed out after I got the news. But I knew they’d be pissed at me for squandering away my free education.”
“Oh, Preston, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”
“I know, and it’s okay. Most people don’t, only a couple of the guys on the football team who got my ass back on track.”
“Is it just you then? Don’t you have any other family?” I guess family’s a touchy subject for both of us. Maybe that’s why he didn’t bring it up during our lightning round of get-to-know-your-fake-partner questioning.
“Yeah, an older sister. But she lives in Germany with her husband. They’re stationed over there for another couple years. I miss her, and I’d love to spend the holidays with them, especially since she just had their first baby, but international flights aren’t cheap, and I don’t have that kind of money sitting around.”
“I know how that feels, trust me.”
“So, no matter how we got here, I want to say thank you for bringing me home with you. It beats hanging out on campus by myself for these two weeks, even if I have to study harder than I have in the last two and a half years.” He laughs, lightening the mood. “So, where’d you leave off?”
“It doesn’t really matter. I know it by heart.” His light chuckle makes me grin. His big arm stretches onto the back of the couch and around my shoulder pulling me to his side. My knees fall onto his thick muscular thigh. Intimate but comfortable. My head drops to nuzzle against his chest as the deep timbre of his voice begins from the beginning. “Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy.”
I don’t know when I drifted off, but when I wake, the fire has burned down, only embers crackle in the ashes. A soft snore accompanies the rhythmic rise and fall of my pillow. The dulled dawn light peeks through the curtains across the room. I still when small footsteps race into the room followed by Natalie. I catch her eyes, and the grin that lights up her face has me sticking my tongue out at her. She whispers to Charlie and ushers her back in the direction of the kitchen.
“You know, that wasn’t very ladylike?” a raspy voice whispers in my ear. Goosebumps break out along my skin and it’s not because of the morning chill in the air. I shift glancing up at him. “I never claimed to be one,” I snark back before wiggling free from his embrace.
“How about some breakfast and coffee?” I call over my shoulder, making a quick exit. I need some space and a quick brush to banish the morning breath. I stare at my haggard reflection in the bathroom mirror. Note to self: couch sleeping does not count toward beauty sleep. I brush my teeth and splash cold water on my face before dabbing concealer under my eyes in an attempt to cover the dark circles.
Rushing back downstairs and into the kitchen, I smack right into Damion coming around the corner. “Whoa there, turbo there’s no running in this house. I didn’t think I’d have to remind you like I do my three-year-old.”
“You think you’re so funny. But I promise you’re not,” I tease him.
“Natalie thinks I’m funny.”
“Does she? Does she really?” I mock question. He’s not impressed, I laugh at his annoyed expression.
“Daddy, Daddy!” Charlie runs up with a cookie in her hand. “Can I have this before Mav eats it?” We both laugh at her determined logic. He reaches down and breaks the cookie in half, giving the bigger piece to her. “Shh, don’t tell Mama.”
“Don’t tell Mama, what?” Natalie asks from around the corner out of view. Damion tips his head in the other direction, before popping the other half in his mouth. Charlie runs off with her crumbling prize.
* * *
The waitress refills our coffee, careful not to drip any on the white pages scattered across the expanse of the tabletop in the diner booth. We’ve been at it for hours, diligently going through the outline I carefully crafted for this week. Since I don’t know what the rest of the week has in store for us or the next time we’ll be able to focus for this long uninterrupted, we’re making the most of it.
“You know, I thought this class was going to be an easy A.” Preston huffs.
“Do you even like to read?”
“Do sports articles count?”
“Oh my god, you’re hopeless.” I laugh. “Let me have that last worksheet, you’ve looked over it enough.” I go over his answers one by one. They’re adequate but nothing life-altering. Classic literature is supposed to inspire feeling, draw out deep connections to days past, and allow us to identify the strides we’ve made as a society.
“It’s horrible, isn’t it?”