Page 36 of Run, Run, Roommates
“It’s a theory,” she says. “I might have to experiment.”
“How would you . . .” Marco shakes his head. “Never mind. This conversation could take forever. I want to get Brin home.”
Eva waves me out of the bar. “By all means, go home. You’re dead on your feet, girlie.”
“What are you even doing here anyway?” I ask Marco as we walk to the front door. “We could have done the sweaters at home.”
“I figured maybe we’d get a few creativity points for actually wearing them in public. Plus I wanted to make sure you got home safe.” He takes my coat from me and holds it out so I can put it on. Just before we walk out the door, I stop and run back and pull Eva into a hug.
“Since you’re not working Tuesday, I won’t see you until Christmas,” I say. Mondays are my normal day off, I work on Tuesday, and then the restaurant is closed for the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth.
“What—awe.” She hugs me back, hard.
“Merry Christmas,” I say, and she says it back before shoving me out the door.
18
Brin
It’s the last day of the scavenger hunt, and coincidentally also the last day of Hanukkah. When I get up in the morning, there are no presents to wrap, which is a blessing because after yesterday, we have three paper cuts between the two of us and I hope I never have to see another roll of wrapping paper in my life.
We finish decorating the cookies. Our first problem is that we rolled the dough out really unevenly, so some of them are half-burnt. We use icing to flood the cookie, making it look like a snowman has melted, before sticking a large marshmallow on top, which we give a face using black thick icing.
Getting icing to the right consistency is hard—some of our melted snowman icing is too thin and the cookies are barely covered. Some of the black icing is too thick to make fine dots for the faces, and they turn out more like the mask from the movie Scream.
But whatever. We position the best ones up front for the photo and then take a video of us eating them. Two more points on the scoreboard, even though our snowman cookies don’t look as good as the photos we found online.
With the leftover marshmallows, we play chubby bunny, which I haven’t played since my high school days. I get ten marshmallows in my mouth while still intelligibly saying “cubby bunny” but then I have to stop because I’m laughing too hard. Mostly I’m laughing because Marco is straight up cackling, and weirdly has never heard of the game before. And damn him, even with his cheeks stuffed, he’s still ridiculously sexy.
Afterward, I have a sugar rush from consuming more marshmallows than I put on cookies.
Marco and I pull on our coats and head out. Our next goal is to get a picture with the world’s largest menorah at Grand Army Plaza. We get that sent in and then head to Prospect Park for another task—create a nature mandala.
On the way, we research what a mandala actually is. “‘A geometric design that represents the universe,’” Marco reads. His brows draw together in confusion and then he shakes his head. “Image results,” he mutters.
I peer over his shoulder as we scroll through the images.
“Oh. I see. Those are cool. We need to gather supplies.”
When we get to the park, I scour the ground while Marco reads out loud to me about mandalas. They’re supposed to be meditative, and are often used to honor the solstice. Soon, Marco puts his phone away and helps me make neat piles of pine cones, needles, sticks, rocks, whatever we can find.
My stomach is starting to grumble, but I do my best to ignore it. This is meditative, my hunger can wait.
We make the first ring of the mandala, alternating pine needle bundles and long pine cones. It’s like building a snowflake.
We’re halfway to the second layer when both our phones ding.
@everyone: The next burst challenge is here! Celebrate the last day of Hanukkah by eating some sufganiyot. Take a picture of both team members with one in the next ten minutes and upload it for two points. Note: to accommodate those with dietary restrictions, the sufganiyot does not have to be consumed . . . but if you are able, why not enjoy a Jewish baked treat while you can?
I google sufganiyot and the picture of a jelly-filled donut pops up.
“Oh my god, can we please go eat one?” My stomach grumbles as if it knows sugar and fat are headed its way. “We can come back to the mandala.”
Marco smiles and dusts off his hands. “Sure. We’re in a good place for it too. Plenty of options in Brooklyn.”
We do some quick searching, find a bakery, and head toward Washington Avenue. I jog to keep up with Marco’s long strides, because the bakery is a few minutes away and who knows if there will be a line. We might have to take a picture with the display first before waiting in line.
“God, my stomach is so excited.”
