Page 63 of The Hookup Situation

Then she turns and grabs a bag of what looks like new ornaments off the floor and pulls them out. “And these are our new ornaments for this year.”

“We each get a new one every year and that way Mom says we’ll have them when we move out and get a place of our own. It also means we have way too many to fit every year,” Paris explains.

“You love it and you know it,” Pam tells him. “Now get over here and take yours.” He steps over to her and she hands him a bright pink high heeled shoe ornament and he grins as he takes it.

“Preston, this is yours,” she says, holding out the volleyball, of course.

She hands a Pepsi can ornament to Phil, which makes me smile and then holds one out to me. I blink.

“Who’s this for?” I say, taking it.

“It’s yours,” she tells me. “Everyone gets one. That includes you. Now go on.” My throat closes up and I have to keep my eyes from watering as I look at the ornament a little closer. It’s round and flat and on it are the words, “Nobody puts baby in a corner.” And thenDirty Dancingwritten underneath. I can’t help it. I have tears sliding down my cheeks and she stands, taking me in her arms.

“Thank you,” I manage.

“Oh, honey,” she croons. “You’re very welcome. Preston told me what you like so he gets some credit.”

I chuckle, and holy hell, he’s going to get one amazing blow job later tonight.

We finish hanging up ornaments and then turn onThe Santa Clause, which they say they watch every year after putting up the tree. And I may or may not eat another half dozen cookies along with a rather large piece of fudge.

SIXTEEN

JACKSON

The following day is Thanksgiving, and I’m realizing my parents never contacted me after I didn't show up. Which makes it more and more clear that I made the right choice in not going home, even if it means I tell Preston I’m going on a walk so I can get some steps in, when in reality I just need to be alone and cry, or scream.

The meal is amazing, though I don’t eat much, and we all pitch in with cleanup before passing out from turkey induced comas. I’m feeling confused, and upset, and all around disheartened when Preston wraps his arms around me in bed.

“Hey,” he says, pressing a kiss to my ear. “You okay, Tinkerbell? You were quiet during dinner and you seem sad.”

“I’m okay,” I tell him. What am I supposed to say? My parents never called to wish me a happy Thanksgiving? Or to make sure I’m alive, or to ask why I’m not there, or find out where I am? “Just tired.”

He presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I know we’re just fuck buddies, or whatever, but I’d like to think I’m your friend, too. You know you can tell me stuff, if you want to.”

I shake my head and look back at him. I draw him down and kiss him, and it takes away a little of the ache. “Just hold me,” I say, and he does.

The next morning after an amazing breakfast of french toast, eggs, and bacon, Preston and Paris convince me to build a snowman with them in the backyard. Pam knocks on the window when Paris tries to give the snowman a dick and balls and scolds him, making us laugh, and of course the dick and balls are still there when we’re done and Pam is sighing in exasperation. “Lord, have mercy,” we hear her murmur when she sees the finished product through the window again after we’ve come inside and taken all of our snow gear off.

She still makes us hot chocolate, though.

That evening we head downtown again, to Old Town Square, where there’s ice skating and hot chocolate. Since I have never skated before, just like so many things on this trip, Preston says he’ll teach me, and Paris snorts and chuckles.

“Good luck with that,” he mumbles.

“Am I missing something?” I ask.

“He doesn’t think I’m a very good teacher,” Preston says, crossing his arms and sneering at his brother.

“Not very good?” Paris says, in between bouts of laughter. “You are awful at it. You tried to teach me for two years and then Chris came along and I learned in one afternoon.”

“Look, I tried, okay? You were difficult.”

“I did exactly what you told me to do,” Paris retorts. He looks at me. “Don’t let him teach you unless you want to fall on your ass over and over. I don’t know about you but that’s not how I want my ass getting sore.” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

I blink and he grins, then laughs when Pam smacks his arm.

“Paris James, we’re in public and there are children here.”

---