Page 5 of Wrapped Up in Holly

“God. She’s so annoying.”

I lifted my shoulder. “I don’t know. I like her. Your whole family.”

He stared at me, probably checking to make sure I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t. Not when I was with him. Especially when he was looking at me. His eyes were a pretty mix of green and brown, far too pretty for a boy like Evan to have.

“You know I can kick their asses,” he offered after a while, and I snorted a laugh, batting at his arm.

“There are two of them,” I said, referring to my cousins, Jeremy and Jared. It was their life’s mission to make my life hell. It was bad enough I had to hear the whispers from other kids at school, calling me “stick” or “bug,” but at home, they never left me any hot water and ate all of my favorite snacks before I got any. That’s besides relentlessly teasing me about my looks.

My aunt and uncle called them Irish twins because they were so close in age to each other. I called them idiots. Big idiots, too. And they were in the same grade as me and Evan.

While I appreciated Evan’s offer to beat them up, I doubted he could. He was an inch or two shorter than me, and even though he played sports, I didn’t think he could take on Jeremy and Jared. Besides, even if he did, my aunt and uncle would probably never let me come over if anything like that ever happened, and that would be the worst possibility.

“I would,” Evan told me seriously. “I’d beat them up for you. I don’t want you to be upset anymore.”

I shrugged. “That’s why I come here so much. Because I…” I ducked my head to hide the blush I felt crawling up my cheeks as I picked at the knit afghan. “I feel safe here.”

He shifted closer to me, placing his fingers over mine so I’d stop scratching at the blanket. But he didn’t say anything for a long time, and I lifted my gaze to find him staring at me in a way he never had before. Like I was the best thing he’d ever seen.

“I’ll always protect you,” he told me, and goosebumps raced down my arms even as I went hot all over.

I managed half a smile. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I can. I…” He cleared his throat, his eyes darting away for a second. “I got you something.”

“You did?”

He nodded, and I patted my pocket. “That’s funny, ’cause I got you something, too. Or, I mean, I made it.”

“One sec,” he told me then ran out of the room, returning a minute later with a small clumsily wrapped box. “Here.”

I grinned and took it between my hands, rattling it softly. It felt a bit heavy. I removed the bow and stuck it to Evan’s cheek. He laughed as I tore into the paper. Inside the box was a photo album. When I looked at him, a little confused, he opened it, flipping through the blank pages. “I know you used to take a lot of pictures with your mom with clothes and stuff, and I thought, maybe, you might want to put them in here. Instead of in that shoebox.”

“Evan,” I breathed, my voice catching. “That’s…” I sniffed and threw myself at him, wringing my arms around his neck. This was the nicest thing someone had done for me since I moved here. “I love it. Thank you.”

A moment passed before he looped his arms around my waist.

“But hold on. I wanted to show you…” He gently nudged me away and positioned the photo album between us then turned to the very last page, where he’d placed a photo of us. One that his mom had taken in the fall while we’d stood in front of an apple tree. I had my arm around Evan’s shoulders, and he had a big red apple stuck between his teeth.

It was our first picture together. Hopefully, not the last.

“Thank you,” I said, and he smiled, giving me the courage to hand him my gift. “It’s not as good as yours. I’m sorry.”

Evan’s mouth twisted like it always did when he was unhappy as he accepted the small bag. “Whatever it is, I’ll love it.”

Then he untied the tiny string and turned the bag upside down to drop the bracelet into his palm. “It’s a friendship bracelet,” I explained. “I made it.”

“Friendship?” he repeated, and my heart fell to my stomach. He hated it.

I had spent a long time picking out the colors for the bracelet and hoped he would like the gray, blue, and navy. “If you don’t like it, that’s okay. It’s stupid, I know. I?—”

“It’s not stupid.” He held it between his thumb and index finger, but he kept his gaze down. “I… Thank you. I love it.”

I took it from him. “Then why do you sound like that?”

His eyes finally met mine. “Like what?”

“Like you hate it.”

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