Page 210 of Piece Us Together

“Oh, shut up,” Nolan grumbles before passing by us in a rustle of bags and tissue paper. “No one is invited to the guest room for the next… 40 minutes. Or so. I’ll open the door when I’m ready for visitors. Did you finish frosting the cookies?”

Hunter sighs. “Almost.”

“What are you waiting for? We have to be at the Big House in, like, two hours!”

“Nolan.” I open my eyes, giving him a pointed look. “It’s not our fault-”

“Eyes closed!” he squawks.

I put my hand up in surrender, eyes closing again. “Sorry, sorry. But it’s not our fault you just had to go last minute shopping.”

“I thought of the best idea and I just had to go get it!”

“It? Singular?” Hunter asks. I can’t see him, but I can hear he’s smirking. “Because it looks like you bought a whole lot more than that.”

I can’t see Nolan either, but I swear I can feel the power of his glare - and he’s definitely glaring. If there was any doubt, his tone makes it clear anyway. “If you two want any presents, you better shape up.”

Hunter laughs, low and dark. “Oh, darling. You’re the one that better shape up unless you’d like to go to the party with a red ass and a cage on your cock.”

I’m a terrible, cheating boyfriend. I peek through my eyelashes. Nolan is pale, his eyes wide as he stares at Hunter. He visibly gulps. “No! No, not necessary! I’m shaped up. All in shape. The shape-liest.”

Then, before either of us can answer, he’s scurrying off to the guest room.

Hunter and I exchange a look. It’s the only kind of look two men can exchange when they’re in love with a Christmas-obsessed goofball on Christmas Eve. We match the look with two huge smiles.

We’re only at the Big House for the Christmas Eve celebration for five minutes before my little brother chooses violence.

“Why is the sock yellow?” Carter asks, picking up one of the cookies from the plate I just unwrapped. He holds it between two fingers like it’s gross. “Is it supposed to be, like, a dirty sock? Santa’s dirty sock.”

I frown. Deeply. “It’s a stocking.”

“But like… is it?” he questions.

“Aren’t stockings supposed to be green or red or whatever?” Travis asks.

“Sometimes blue or silver,” Bryce adds. “I had a blue one with silver snowflakes when I was growing up.”

“There are yellow stockings,” I insist.

“Are there?” Carter asks, not sounding at all convinced.

“Yes!”

They all exchange looks. I find myself wishing Nolan and Hunter were here because they’d have my back. Then I realize there’s a good chance they wouldn’t. Those two assholes love making fun of me when the mood is safe for it. Despite how hard I’m trying to cling to the Scrooge-mood, I’m feeling too happy and settled tonight to get upset. So, they’d definitely not be on my side.

Which is fair, because I’m pretty fucking sure stockings really aren’t ever yellow.

Matt adds his two cents by turning his tablet to show us. He’s Googled it. There are tons of pictures across the screen, but they’re all of the same generic sort of stocking, like you can pick any color under the sun and the company will deliver it for 4 bucks. There are at least two gold ones in the sea of yellow.

“See? Yellow stockings.”

Bryce waves at the tablet like he’s shooing a fly. “Those are hideous. Get rid of them.”

“You know what? No cookies for any of you.” I snatch the cookie from Carter, breaking it in the process, and then grab the plate with the rest of them. I awkwardly wrap my arms around it. I end up with a little bit of frosting on my shirt, but sometimes you just have to sacrifice for your principles.

Of course, this is when the men I love enter the room, both stopping short at the sight of me holding a plate of cookies like achild hoarding his favorite toy. Hunter adjusts his stupid nerdy glasses as Nolan asks, “Is something wrong?”

“I was just pointing out that Christmas stockings can be yellow,” I grumble.

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