“I know how important your traditions are to you. I'm not Mare, not your Ma, but I just thought?—”
I cut him off, running up to him and wrap my arms around his neck. I snuggle into his chest for just a moment, breathing in the scent of his woody cologne mixed with the plain soap from the locker room where we showered after the game. I let myself pretend, if only for a second, that Lennon is mine. That I get to hold him. That I get all of his grand gestures, his shy smiles, his hearty laughs.
God. It feels like…right now itreallyfeels like…
No. It's not real.
Goddammit, itfeelsreal. Lennon Griffith feels like he'smine.
Too bad he never can never be mine for real.
I loosen my grip on his neck and push up on my toes to place a kiss on his cheek. If this is all I'm ever going to get from Lennon, you can bet I'm going to take whatever he's willing to give me. And if the way he kisses my head and my cheeks during celebrations or when we're out drunk at a bar is any indication, a few chaste kisses between bros is nothing.
When I pull away, I have to fight the urge to run my fingertips over my lips. For some reason, it feels like if I were to touch them, the action would seal the feeling of Lennon's soft beard and warm cheek into my lips. But that feeling isn't mine to keep, so I don't do it.
"This is amazing Lennon. I can't believe you…when did you even have time to…" I say, a million thank yous and questions fighting in my mind to come out of my mouth.
"During your meeting with Coach this morning. I brought the lights and the fluffy shit in my suitcase, the food I ordered on a grocery app last night and had it delivered as soon as you left. The pajamas…well those I ordered a few months ago. When we first got our schedules and you started moping. I couldn't stand to see you sad, B. I knew I needed to do something. You like it?" He says, still fiddling around in his pocket.
"Like it? Lennon. This is…shit, man. It's everything," I tell him. His sheepish expression slowly forms into a full, wide, white and shiny and toothy grin.
He finally pulls something out of his pocket, and I almost gasp when I see the blue foil wrapper.
Two packets of Oreo cookies. One for him, one for me. No sharing tonight.
"Merry Christmas, Breaker Lawson."
"Merry Christmas, Lennon Griffith."
And like The Grinch before me, I feel my heart swelling in my chest as we change into our matching pajamas, heat hot chocolates up in the tiny microwave, gorge ourselves on cookies and fish-shaped snacks, and eventually fall asleep in the same bed with only a breath between us, Mickey Rooney crooning about believing in Santa Claus just a whisper in the background.
CHAPTER 27
BREAKER
Now
Santa Clara, California
I miss you
I'm 3 lockers down from you. How can you miss me?
Ah come on B. Don't make me sound as needy as I am. You weren't in my bed last night. I didn't get to kiss you this morning. I can't walk up to you and run my hands up and down your naked chest the way I want to right now…
And this is where I put an end to line of speaking. I don't have my pads on yet, and if you make me pop a boner in front of the team, you're going to be in big trouble.
Oooohh, don't threaten me with a good time, daddy.
NO! Nope nope nope. Never again, Lennon Griffith, or so help me God.
Party pooper. Is it such a crime to miss my boyfriend when he picks his mother over me?
If I recall, I offered to have you hand out and stay over with Ma and I last night for our three out of seven fishes feast & Rankin and Bass marathon. I even bought you matching PJ bottoms
And if I recall, you also said there was probably no way we could sleep in the same house without waking up in the middle of the night and ripping those silly penguin pajamas off each other, probably scarring Mare for life, because we both know you're never quite quiet enough, sweet thing.
You love it. And I love you. And I miss you too. I can't wait for tonight. Pizza, a Christmas cookie wooden mosaic puzzle, and me kicking your sorry ass at Spite And Malice while we watch Elf over and over all night.