Page 60 of Cross Check Christmas
“Please don’t ever say the words “magic sack” again.”
Hendrix guffaws, that bright smile flashing across his face. A face I kissed last night.
"At least we found the boards in the shed," he says. "Though I'm pretty sure that's not what Michelle meant when she asked you to 'board' her cat."
The man isn’t even making sense, or maybe he’s just trying to make me laugh with a nonsensical joke. I’m not THAT uptight about Freudian slips. Am I?
“You boarded the window,” I say pragmatically. “Not the cat.”
Okay, maybe I could loosen up a little bit. Should I have laughed instead? Yeah. I totally should have laughed.
My phone suddenly buzzes with a flood of notifications. "Finally! Signal!" I scroll through the messages—three from Daisy and one from the school announcing canceled classes today. Hendrix’s phone pings, too.
"Classes are cancelled," I tell Hendrix, ignoring Daisy's texts burning a hole in my phone. I'm not ready to explain last night to my best friend. How do you even begin to explain something you don't understand yourself?
"See? Everything works out." Hendrix pats my knee, and I nearly jump out of my skin at the contact. His hand lingers for a moment too long before returning to the steering wheel.
The truck rumbles steadily along the snow-covered road, and I stare out the window, trying to make sense of the last twelve hours. What kind of temporary insanity possessed me to kiss Hendrix Ellis? The same guy who's been nothing but a thorn in my side since he came back to town?
And then, as if kissing him wasn't crazy enough, I invited him to share the bed. Sure, it was practical – the room was freezing after that window broke. But still. There were boundaries. Lines that shouldn't be crossed. Lines that definitely got crossed when I woke up this morning practically wrapped around him like ahuman pretzel. A tiny voice in my head keeps whispering that maybe I want to do it again.
Khan meows from the back seat, and I swear he's judging me. Some chaperone he turned out to be.
I sneak a glance at Hendrix. He's focused on the road, one hand loosely gripping the wheel, looking annoyingly calm and collected. Meanwhile, I'm having a full-blown identity crisis.
We hit a patch of ice, and Hendrix expertly corrects our trajectory. My car breaking down was a blessing in disguise. There’s no way I could have maneuvered these roads in my Civic. But Hendrix is just cruising along the road like he cruises through life—with easy confidence. Even so, each bump in the road is bringing on an increasingly urgent situation.
The coffee hits my bladder like a freight train. I squirm in my seat, crossing and uncrossing my legs. Why, why, WHY did I drink that awful instant coffee? It tasted like burnt rubber mixed with despair, but I was so desperate for caffeine…
"You okay there?" Hendrix glances over. "You're doing some interesting dance moves."
"I need to pee." I clench every muscle. "Like, really need to pee."
"We're at least an hour from anywhere. Can you hold it?"
"I've BEEN holding it." I press my thighs together, trying not to think about running water or waterfalls or—. "Hendrix? I really, really have to go."
"There's nothing out here for miles."
"I'm aware of that," I snap, bouncing in my seat. "Pull over. Now."
"But—"
"Hendrix Ellis, unless you want your precious truck's upholstery ruined, pull over right this second."
He swerves to the shoulder so fast I grab the dashboard. Khan yowls in protest from the backseat.
I practically leap out, wading through knee-deep snow to the back of the vehicle. Finding my balance, I quickly drop my pants and lean against the fender for support.
"Don't look!" I yell.
"I'm watching for traffic," he calls back, his voice carrying over the wind. "Your dignity is safe with me."
The relief is immediate and glorious. I don't even care about the cold or the ridiculous situation.
"All good?" Hendrix calls out.
"Just... give me a minute." I reach down to pull up my pants, but something's wrong. Very wrong. My bare skin won't budge from the freezing metal fender.
