Page 22 of Mistlefoe
I face forward and smack my hand against my own lips. They’re tingling for no reason at all, whatsoever.
We walk away with cups of the thickest hot chocolate I’ve ever seen, and baggies of churros. Hers is a normal size but I got a triple because ya boy’s hungry. I tuck my mutant churro bag inside the pocket of my hoodie and pluck one churro out as we walk. I bite into the hot, fried dough powdered with sugar and cinnamon and stop when I see Sierra dip her churro into the chocolate.
“What?” She asks as she chews. “This is how it’s done.”
“Oh.” I also dip my churro and put it in my mouth.
A groan tears out of my throat once the explosion of flavor hits my tongue.
“Geez, Mahoney. This is a Christmas fair, not your bedroom.”
I duck my heating face. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting perfection on my tongue.”
Sierra snorts. “Anyway, now that we have secured snacks, we should start actually working.”
“Right.” I take another churro from my hoodie pouch and check our surroundings out. “Let’s just walk for a bit and see what catches our eye.”
I let her lead the way, happy to take my time dipping churros into hot chocolate. I almost want to cry because I’ve been having both things wrong my whole life.
We pass by a booth with oversized tree ornaments and one with crystal reindeer in all sizes. Someone’s selling Christmas trees made out of all materials, leather, velcro, even pieces of silverware. I grab the sleeve of Sierra’s coat to make her stop and find my phone to take some blurry, one-handed pictures.
Up next is a booth selling candy, and this time she makes me wait so she can buy a baggy of peppermint candy canes. She seems to like those, judging by the way she smiles as she tucks them into her purse. Or maybe they’re for a gift. And actually, Gramps likes these. I should get some as well.
“Can I have a bag as well, please?” I ask the seller.
“Of course, gorgeous,” says the woman who could be my mother. “It’ll be eight bucks for you.”
“Hey! You charged me ten,” Sierra grouches.
“Sorry, darling. He’s my type. Tall, hairy, and with pretty eyes.”
My face burns as I give her ten dollars and refuse the change. “Hairy?” I ask as we walk away. “Maybe I should shave it all off.”
Sierra huffs. “But then you wouldn’t get free stuff from single women.”
“She wasn’t single.” At her look, I add, “She had a wedding ring on her finger.”
“Oh, wow. You checked? Was sheyourtype?” Sierra chuckles and I don’t know why, but it annoys me.
“No, I have one eye that still works better than average. And she totally wasn’t my type.”
“Sure.”
I scrunch up my face. “C’mon, my type is people my age.”
“Hmm.” Sweeping her attention around, Sierra suddenly points behind me. “Someone like her?”
I don’t know why I turn. There’s a blonde woman just outside a stand, dressed in the sexy version of Mrs. Claus. Actually, I think my ex wore something like this four years ago,complete with the micro mini skirt and the gaping cleavage. It had been fun back then, but being reminded of my ex by this random woman makes my mouth taste sour.
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “That was my type once but not anymore.”
“Huh.”
I tilt my head. “Why do you sound disappointed?”
“Not disappointed. Surprised.” She shrugs. “I guess I really don’t know you at all.”
“Of course you don’t. Today’s the first time we actually had a civilized conversation.”
