Page 16 of In Too Deep

“Mine’s not,” I add, which earns another laugh from everyone.

Oli takes his time with mine, carefully setting the sprig of pine aside before opening the butcher paper. Inside, there’s a simple black velvet box, larger and flatter than a ring box. He cracks it open, and a soft smile comes over his face, eyes shining with affection as he looks back at me while turning the box for everyone to see the necklace and its charms. The braided gold chain should be strong enough to avoid snapping if someone happens to grab it during a scuffle, if he chooses to wear it under his gear during games.

“That’s a dala horse, a symbol of good luck in Sweden. And the other is an ace of spades,” I explain, flushing hotter the longer he goes without speaking.

“I love it, Elijah,” Oli replies, leaving no room for me to doubt his sincerity.

He takes a moment to extricate it from the box before slipping it easily over his head. I breathe out a sigh of relief when the charms settle right over his sternum, just like I’d planned. Setting the box aside, he picks up Tori’s gift, giving it a gentle shake, a smirk playing on his cheeks. Tori scoffs, and I catch her rolling her eyes. Not that Oli gets much for his endeavors. Nothing rattles or shifts, at least not that I can pick up. And when he opens it, I realize why. Yet another envelope appears from one of her perfect boxes, but Oli doesn’t have the same reaction as he did when he opened Spencer’s.

“Where is this?” Oli asks, looking between the slip of paper and Tori.

“That is one of the best artists in the French Quarter. I’ve paid a floating deposit, and his email is on that card. You just have to text him and let him know who you are and he’ll set you up for whatever you want, whenever you want,” Tori explains.

I open my mouth to ask for clarification, but then Oli pulls the business card out and turns it around, showing us the intricate tattoo-style background surrounding the name of a tattoo parlor even I recognize.

“This is too much, Victoria. I can’t possibly—”

“Yes, you can,” Tori interrupts, lifting her chin in defiance.

Oli sighs and looks at her long and hard for a moment, and it’s only because I’ve known Oliver for so long that I can decipher the words his eyes are projecting. He’s smitten, head over heels, but there’s a hint of fear. Not unwarranted, considering the conversation we’re going to have once we’re finished with the gift opening. But the expression is gone before anyone else can pick up on it, and Oli turns his half-smile onto me.

“You go ahead, Eli,” he says, tucking the card lovingly into the velvet box beside him.

My hand hovers over my two remaining gifts, settling on Tori’s. I have the same perfect box as the others, but when I shake mine, I pull back, confused, as I hear something like sand against plastic from inside. Curiosity at its peak, I make my way through the carefully creased paper and ribbon, popping the tape securing the box lid closed.

“It’s not another envelope! It’s...” I explain, trying for a joke, but trailing off as I pull the cylindrical bottle free from the tissue cushioning it.

Staring at the label for a long while, I’m not quite sure I can believe what I’m seeing. I can read the text, a tasteful scrawl of Swedish words wrapping around the label, and I pop the top,taking a long inhale. Even through the safety seal, the distinct smell of home fills my nose. It’s the spice blend my mothers would use in their cooking, the perfect way to season practically anything.

“Is that the right stuff? The website I ordered from was all Swedish, and you can’t always trust the auto-translate functions,” Tori asks, an uncharacteristically insecure tone to her voice.

My head tilts upward, and I smile widely, nodding even as the backs of my eyes burn. Not from the spices, though. A wave of homesickness I haven’t felt in a long time comes over me, but it’s easily contained, especially once I crawl over to the omega sitting on the other end of the couch and give her the biggest hug and softest kiss I can muster.

Oliver isn’t the only one smitten, that’s for sure. I only hope we don’t fuck this up.

Eli settles back intohis side of the couch, and I let out a contented sigh. Gift giving might be one of my love languages, but there’s a special feeling when you give a gift to someone you care about and they love it.

My head is heavy on my shoulders, so I finish the last of the delicious mulled wine and set my mug to the side. It’s still early in the evening, and I don’t want to get too drunk this soon, as I don’t know what the boys have planned for after presents.

“Your turn, princess,” Oli says, gesturing with his mug toward my little pile of presents.

Sitting up slightly, my hands hover over the gifts as I try to decide what to open first. I settle on Eli’s first, the tube shape piquing my curiosity the most. The paper falls away, and I’m left looking at a blacked-out cylinder with no discernible markings to indicate what might be inside. I glance over at him, only tofind him grinning like a fiend. I peel back the tape on one end, tipping it over to let whatever it is fall into my hand.

I let out a startled yelp as a heavy silicone dildo hits my hand and then falls into my lap. It’s bright pink, and bigger than my usual choice of toys, with a knot the size of my fist.

“Do you like it?” Eli asks, practically bouncing in his seat.

I hold it up, rotating it this way and that, trying to imagine how I could possibly use this thing. It’s not overly long, but the girth…

“Does it ring any bells?” Eli presses, laughter at the edges of his voice.

Then it hits me. The shape is organic, not symmetrical like mass-produced toys. And the curve and heft of it in my hands is all too familiar.

“Did you get me a Clone-A-Willy?” I blurt out, not sure if I should laugh or jump into the ocean from embarrassment.

“Yeah! So you have something to play with when we’re on the road,” Eli answers, an almost childlike glee in his aquamarine eyes.

My smile softens, and I’m genuinely touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift now that the initial shock has faded. I don’t know what I expected from a trickster like Eli, but now that I’ve received his gift, I don’t know if I could have imagined anything more... him. Tucking the silicone dick to my chest, I cradle it between my breasts for a moment. Something shifts in Eli’s expression as his eyes flick down to my chest and then back up. I have a feeling we’ll be using this sooner rather than later if I keep holding it, so I slide it back into its tube and set it on the couch beside me.

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