Page 29 of The Grumpiest Elf

We end up making our camp in one of the women’s dressing rooms. It’s cozier than the men’s, though we pull the cushions off the couch in the men’s dressing room and bring them into the women’s to add to the ones we find in there. When I offered to stay in the men’s dressing room and give her the women’s to herself, she shook her head in a quick negative. I didn’t argue, because I don’t really want to be alone either.

She pulls the cushions off the couch in the women’s dressing room and arranges our collection on the floor in front of the couch, spreading a blanket over them, then arranging the throw pillows so they’re propped against the couch like it’s a headboard and we have a big bed on the floor. Once she’s done, she surveys her work with her hands on her hips. “There. I think that’ll be comfortable enough. What do you think?”

I kick off my shoes and crawl onto the bed she’s made, propping myself against the couch with my hands behind my head and letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Perfection.”

“Hey!” she protests. “Your jeans are still wet! Don’t get our bed all gross.” Even though she’s grinning as she says it, she nudges my legs with her toe until I move them off the blanket.

Holding up my hands in surrender, I stand. “Fine. Good point.” The damp fabric is pressing against my legs, and now that I’m not hunting for bedding, I’m more aware of it than ever. “I’ll take them off.”

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” She holds out her hands to stop me. “Dude! You can’t just strip in front of me like that.” She gestures between us. “Even if we are getting along better today than we have before now, we don’t havethatgood of a relationship.”

Laughing, I scoop up my backpack, shooting her a look. “Number one, I wasn’t just going to strip. I’m going to change into my elf pants. They’ll be more comfortable for sleeping anyway. And number two, I’ll go change in the men’s dressing room. Though it’s not like you haven’t seen me in my underwear already.”

Her cheeks get pink at the reminder that she’s seen me changing more than once, and she eyes the makeshift bed she’s created, like it’s just occurred to her that we’ll be sleeping on there together tonight.

“Hey,” I say softly, but she shoos me away.

“Go change.” Her voice is subdued now, but it’s still a command. “I’ll go raid Mom’s snack drawer, and we can decide how to ration our supplies.”

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

Lydia

With my armswrapped protectively around myself, I leave the cheerful warmth of the dressing room and go into the cold, empty hallway. The thermostat’s on an automatic timer that makes it cooler at night, and with no one other than Dylan and me here, it’s chilly, and I’m glad I wore my thick, oversized sweater today. It’s cozy and warm, and paired with leggings, it’ll be comfy enough for sleeping.

I jingle the keys in my hand, needing there to be some noise other than the sound of my own breathing and footsteps. It’s weird being in a place that’s designed to host large groups when it’s empty. And in other circumstances, I might find it fun or even peaceful, but since we’re stranded …

It just seems like something out of a horror movie. I know there’s not an axe murderer lurking in the dark corners—at least my logical brain knows that—but the part of me that’s worried it’ll take longer than a few hours for them to clear the road for us to get out of here is worried about monsters in the dark.

I’m glad I’m not here alone—that would definitely be worse—but if I got to choose someone to be stranded with, it definitely wouldn’t be Dylan. He’s been fine today—great, even—but the prospect of sharing the couch-cushion bed with him has my gut clenching for different reasons than my atavistic fear of the dark.

Sleeping with someone feels so … vulnerable. And even if we’re more friendly now, the last person I want to be vulnerable with ishim.

I don’t get a choice in the matter, though, so the sooner I can make myself come to terms with it, the better. Or at least distract myself with finding food.

Which doesn’t take me long, despite the slow pace of my steps to get to Mom’s office. It unlocks easily, and the snacks are all in her bottom desk drawer like she said. I find an empty box that hasn’t been thrown away yet and stack everything edible into it plus a couple bottles of water she has in there. I’ll help her replenish it tomorrow when we’re not trapped anymore.

For a snack drawer, she’s pretty well stocked—granola bars, protein bars, trail mix, and crackers. Mom usually likes to snack on fruits and veggies too …

A smile spreading across my face, I move down the hall, opening more doors. We didn’t go through the offices because we were focused on the storage places to see what we could find to use as bedding. We checked the catering kitchen too, but came up empty there. But I forgot that Mom mentioned there’s a breakroom with a fridge and sink and microwave for employees. If Mom has anything refrigerated, it’d be there.

It’s three doors down from her office, and I have to try a few keys to get the door unlocked, but when I do, I let out a whoop of triumph. There are a few Lean Cuisines in the freezer—which, once again, I’ll replace if we eat them, especially since I don’t know who they belong to—some yogurt, some sliced cheese, and some lunch meat in the fridge. With the crackers, it’s like DIY Lunchables. No Capri Suns or Oreos to follow it up, sadly, but we can make do with water and trail mix. At least it’s the good kind with M&Ms.

Retrieving my box from Mom’s office, I toss the cheese and lunch meat in as well.

The walk back to the dressing room we’ve claimed is less ominous, and Dylan’s waiting inside, lounging on the bed and scrolling on his phone when I return, his shins and bare feet peeking out from the jagged hem of his green elf pants.

“Dinner is served!” I announce with a wide smile. “Or second dinner?” I amend. “Snack, I guess.”

Dylan looks up, surprised and happy at my entrance. “Oh yeah? What’d you find?”

I set the box down at the foot of the bed as he gets up on his knees, coming to the edge. “I found the employee break room and raided the fridge.” Passing him the cheese and lunch meat, I pull out the box of crackers. “Maybe not steak au poivre, but definitely better than nothing.”

Chuckling, he takes the crackers, then climbs to his feet. “Hang on.” And he disappears out the door.

Shrugging, I open the box of crackers and pull out a handful to munch on while I wait for him. It’s been a long night, and even though we had dinner earlier, it was a while ago, and I’m hungry.

Dylan returns a moment later and bows deeply, laying a piece of paper towel from the bathroom in front of me. “Your place setting, mademoiselle,” he intones, then he lays another piece on the floor and settles in front of it with a grin.

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