Page 61 of Christmas Candy

Laurel, my angel, had pursed her perfect lips, turned her back to me, and lay on her bed, facing the wall. Though it gave me an excellent view of her choice arse, I could tell she didn’t even want to look at Claudia or her “boyfriend.”

From that moment, Laurel owned my heart, though all I owned was her scorn. She wouldn’t give me a chance to explain, always avoiding me at the international house. And now, when I’d finally gotten a chance to touch her, to talk to her properly, she’d run like a frightened fawn.

I stared at the mangled bunny imprint on the ceiling, tracing its outline as my thoughts strayed back to how good it felt to have Laurel in my arms.

“So, I say Schrodinger’s cat is dead as fucking dead can be.” Noel tried to distract me.

I turned my face to the wall. “I don’t want to play this stupid game.”

“Dead.” Noel crowed behind me. “No way it can possibly be alive.”

We’d had ridiculous long-ranging arguments over Schrodinger’s cat for the four years we’d been roommates at university in the States. All the arguments were dumb, circular, and usually ended in some colorful profanity. We were both training to be physicists, setting our sights on working for the American entrepreneur who’d brought back space exploration.

“That pussy perished,” he said. It was admirable, really, but I didn’t want to talk to him. I wanted Laurel.

“Simply no way for it to be alive.” He tapped away on his keyboard.

I sighed and turned back to him. “The cat is alive and dead.”

“Nope, dead.”

“The cat is alive and dead until it is observed and reality collapses into the one possible outcome. You fail physics, especially quantum physics, and you will never get off the ground, much less out of Earth’s atmosphere, you standing prick.”

He peeked over his laptop, crinkles around his eyes from his grin. “Dead.”

“Ornery cunt.” But I smiled as I said it.

We batted a few more theories back and forth before settling in for the night. Though I spoke and interacted and tried to play it cool, my thoughts were constantly pulled back to Laurel. Her amber eyes and innocent smile. I’d itched to make her mine for so long that having her in my grasp made my need for her burn even higher.

I let my eyes close, forcing myself to rest for my classes in the morning and football, or as the Americans insisted on calling it “soccer,” practice in the afternoon.

I was almost asleep, Laurel’s eyes lulling me to slumber, when my phone pinged.

Lunch tomorrow? ~C

I groaned and tossed my phone to my desk.

“Claudia?” Noel asked, though I couldn’t see him in the dark.

“Too right.” Would I ever be rid of her?

“Hmm.”

“Hmm what?” I asked.

“I have an idea.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s the most worrying phrase I think I’ve ever heard you utter.”

“Hear me out, wanker.”

I was desperate to have Laurel. To the point I was open to any suggestions, even if they came from Noel. “What’s floating around in your noggin, then?”

“Okay, here’s the plan . . .”

Laurel

“Ican’t. Sorry.” I shook my head lightly at Pablo.

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