Page 46 of The Grumpiest Elf

My balls tingle and draw up tight, lightning zipping down my spine as I come, shuddering and gasping, wishing I were buried deep inside Lydia.

* * *

I wake up almost giddy with anticipation, uncaring that my older sister will heckle me relentlessly regardless of what sweater I wear to Mom and Dad’s Christmas open house. If it’s an ugly Christmas sweater, she’ll heckle me for giving in and wearing it. If it’s not ugly enough, she’ll give me crap for not adhering to family tradition.

There’s no winning.

Sarah thinks it’s her job to give me endless amounts of shit, though, and has our entire lives. Moving out on her own and getting married hasn’t changed that at all. I’m pretty used to it by now.

And regardless of what Christmas sweater I wear, Lydia will be coming over today.

“Up and at ‘em!” Dad calls through my door. “Busy day, and we need all hands on deck!”

“Be out in a sec,” I call back, which has Dad moving on his way, though I know if I haven’t at least made it to the bathroom in the next five minutes, he’ll be back, banging on my door and telling me to get a move on. This was every morning where there was a schedule when I was growing up, so we all know the routine. It doesn’t matter that I’m a senior in college, have an alarm, and have gotten myself ready and to class or work on time every day of my college career. This is just what happens at the Daniels’ house.

A few days ago, I would’ve resented it, grumbling my response. But now?

Now it feels almost comforting in its familiarity.

Huh. Just kissing Lydia a few times and going on one date has changed my attitude so much that nothing can bother me today.

Throwing off the covers, I roll out of bed, scrubbing my hands over my face to rub the sleep from my eyes, grabbing my clothes for the day and heading for the bathroom. It’s steamy, so I know Nora’s already had her shower. At least I don’t have to wait for her to get out. Probably that’s why Dad came by when he did, though. Nora just finished, so it’s my turn.

Why didn’t I see it that way before?

I mean, I guess I knew on some level that Dad did things the order he did them in to keep the morning going smoothly when I was in high school. But since I left for college, every time he’d do it when I came home, I found it irritating. Belittling. Like I was too dumb to figure out when and how to get up and get ready on my own, despite the fact that I did it all the time.

But I didn’t do it withthesepeople all the time. I didn’t have to worry about how my needs intersected and conflicted with theirs. Dad had all of it in mind and choreographed it in a way that we weren’t fighting over the bathroom or breakfast.

I’ve always been too wrapped up in my own bullshit to notice that’s what he was doing.

God, I really am a selfish asshole, aren’t I?

Well, not anymore.

I hurry through my morning routine, getting dressed and heading to the kitchen where I give Mom a kiss on the cheek as I head for the coffee pot.

“Morning, Dylan,” she says, smiling at me. When I return her smile, her eyebrows pop up her forehead. “Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” she observes.

“I am,” I confirm, ignoring the knowing look Mom and Nora exchange. Everyone knows I had a date with Lydia last night. Coffee cup in hand, I turn and face the kitchen. “Where’s Dad?”

“Right here,” he says, strolling into the kitchen and looking me over in my jeans and garish Christmas sweater. I picked out the ugliest one I could find. Sarah got it for me a couple years ago. It has alternating stripes of red and green with snowflakes and reindeer stitched in white. Between each stripe is a row of sparkly pom poms. It’s entirely ridiculous, and everyone knows I hate it. Dad’s eyebrows join Mom’s in using his hairline as a mountain climbing expedition. “You’re ready for the open house already, I see.”

I nod. “I am. And while we’re all here, I wanted to apologize to you. I’ve had a bad attitude about helping out with Christmas stuff for years.” I open my mouth to spill out the litany of reasons why, but close it again and shake my head, then say, “I can’t say that being an elf will ever be my favorite job, but I do appreciate all the opportunity that the Christmas Emporium and by extension the ChristmasFest has given me. Not many kids have a guaranteed job every winter that pays well and provides plenty of spending money until the summer jobs open up.” I lift my coffee cup to my parents. “Thank you.” To Nora I say, “And sorry for being a dick to you at every opportunity. I’m your big brother, so some of it goes with the territory, but I know it’s been excessive. I’m doing my best to put a stop to it.”

Mom and Dad look blown away, standing and blinking at me, their faces blank with shock.

“Awww, Dyl-weed,” Nora says, standing from the table and walking over to give me a hug and a pat on the shoulder. “You’ve always been a dick to me. You being that way when you’re home for Christmas is neither new nor different. I don’t expect different from you. But I also know you’ll have my back if I ever need it.” Then she spins on her heel and strolls out, probably to finish getting ready for the day now that I’ve had my shower.

“Well,” Dad says, stepping closer and clapping my shoulder, “I’m not sure what’s brought about this burst of self-awareness, but I’m hoping it sticks. Thank you for the apology. Your mother and I appreciate it. I assume your choice of sweater is in honor of your newfound family solidarity.” At my nod, he smiles. “Good. And you won’t mind helping get the house set up for today?”

“I’m happy to help,” I tell him, and I mean it. Honestly, I never minded setting up for the Christmas party. It meant I could invite my friends, I didn’t have to wear an elf costume, and the food is always delicious. Plus, since everyone was always caught up with all the other people here, no one paid much attention to me once the party started.

But this year’s different, even so.I’mdifferent. And it’s all thanks to Lydia.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

Lydia

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