Page 21 of Oh No, My Best Friend Hates Christmas!

And I do. I really, really do.

Chapter Seven

We talk for another hour or so, moving on to lighter subjects and planning out our revenge against Archie – ouractualrevenge, because that silly little choking is sure to have taught him exactly nothing. The little freak loves that kind of near-death adrenaline rush.

To really teach him a lesson, I’ll be putting out three new fanfictions starring his famous online alter ego, CinniRoll47426, and his fellow CubeCraft friend, Mufasa7227. It will be detailed. It will be spicy. It will be…revenge. Cue the purple and green villain lighting and the evil laughter.

After outlining several plot points for these esteemed works, we make plans to finally decorate the Christmas tree tomorrow. Baz assures me he’s shaken out all of the bugs and tiny animals from it, and that he will shake it out a final time before he brings it in. I put Christmas tree prep on my mental to-do list, then I put it on my Bazzy-remind-me list by verbally relaying it to the man.

“I need to pull out the holiday decorations from the storage closet under the stairs tomorrow, then I need to get the gingerbread cookies in the oven so I can get them to your mom for decorating. A space in the living room needs to be cleared for the tree, and– oh! I have to set up the reindeer in the yard– sorry,garden– and the sleigh! We–” Meaning Baz. “–also need to get the lights strung up on the house. Christmas tree means Christmastime! No slacking!”

Bazzy hums a lazy assent, rubbing my back.

“We have to handle gifts, too! The wrapping paper is in the attic, so if you wouldn’t mind getting that down after wedecorate the tree, I’d so appreciate it. And we ne–”

“Heidi.”

My mouth snaps shut, and I grimace.

“Sorry, Bazzy. I got a little carried away there.”

His hand on my back stops rubbing and transforms into an arm around my waist, hugging me to him.

“You never have to apologize to me,” he says, voice thick with exhaustion. “But if we’re going to be doing all of that, we need to sleep now.”

I nod. He’s right. We’ll have time for Christmas excitement tomorrow.

I wish him goodnight, and turn my head to land a kiss on his chest.

“Goodnight, baby,” he replies, then falls silent for thirty seconds before his body relaxes under mine and his soft snores reach my ears. I smile. Sleepy, sleepy boy. So cute.

I let myself fade into dreamland as well, the scents of ginger and nutmeg following me into dreams of foreign accents and almost kisses.

I wake up what feels like moments later, lying on Baz’s chest in a pool of sunlight, my cheek wet from the puddle of drool beneath it. Yikes.

I lift my head slowly, twisting to see if he’s awake yet. He is, unfortunately, and he’s smirking down at me, his eyes wandering from my face to the puddle of drool on his shirt and back. I narrow my eyes.

“Good morning,” I say congenially. “If you mention the drool, I will hurt you.”

His eyes crinkle.

Yes, ma’am.

“Ew, gross. Don’t call me ma’am. I amyouth. I amnotma’am.”

Dark eyebrows rise.

“Yes, seriously! Don’t be rude! I–no,this is not an American thing. This is a woman thing, you big oaf!”

I huff and roll off him, taking the comforter with me for good measure. Mister No Manners can be a cold boy today, for all I care.

He follows me, stealing the blanket back with an ease that is, frankly, embarrassing for me, then he covers my body with his own.

His long hair falls in a dark curtain around my face, putting us in a world of seclusion, where all that exists is his face and mine, six inches apart. The air is warm with his breath, which reminds me to hold my own, lest he smell my morning yuckiness.

He chuckles, unconcerned about his own morning yuckiness – even though hereallyshould be. Why should I have to be subjected to his bad breath?

“You should go brush your teeth,” I tell him, attempting to speak the words away from his face – and nose. Unfortunately, his hair has created a cave-like environment that traps germs, smells, and other unsavory things within. That is to say, now we’ve both stunk up the space.

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