Page 66 of A Class of Her Own

Ruby leaned forward and rested her chin on her hands. “Meredith’s guy is going to be really simple. He’ll be kind, and he’ll be dependable. We’ll all worry that she’s going to run roughshod over him, but at the core he’ll be as strong as she is and be able to spar a little bit—because she’d be bored without a tiny bit of drama and wouldn’t respect a weakling. She’s had enough of the roller-coaster life. She wants steady, dependable, and nice with a few occasional sparks.”

We fell into silence as the truth of Ruby’s words landed in my heart. Brooks sprang into mind immediately, and I thought about how he’d said his ex had hated that he wasn’t a little more creative. I couldn’t understand that. Having been raised by a flaky, non-dependable, borderline neglectful parent, there was nothing in the world I craved as much as steady and firm. Firm like Brooks’s hands pressed against my back.

“I, uh . . .” The words stuck in my throat, and I cleared it. As they all looked to me, I felt my own face heat. “I had an interesting conversation about that with Brooks the other day.” Their eyes grew round as I told them about his ex-fiancée and what she’d thought of him. “So, it made me think that, yeah, I can’t imagine faulting a man for being too steady. Ruby is right. Boring is my idea of a total prize. Boring shows up every day of the week, and I like the idea of that a lot.”

They smiled kindly at me, and I watched as Aryn’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry, Mer. I was rude. I know that you’re strong and determined because you’ve had to be. But I also know that you’re so much more than that. You’ll find someone who will see it.”

I fidgeted with a slice of fruit on my plate, poking my fork tongs into it lightly. “I’m not sure if I want to find someone. Relationships are a big risk, and I’m not good at being open.”

Ruby reached over to squeeze my shoulder. “And that’s okay, too. You only have to do what makes you happy. You’re a Thornback woman, what else do you need?”

Hailey suddenly giggled and looked to Ruby. “Okay, my prediction for Ruby is that he’ll be a pampered prince. He’ll never have shot a gun or camped or eaten something he didn’t buy from the store. He’ll be picky about food and squeamish about blood.”

I grinned. “No way, you’re way off base. Ruby is going to marry a guy that drives a big old truck with deer antlers attached and knows ten different ways to stop bleeding.”

Aryn joined in, waving her hands, her smile big. “On their honeymoon he’ll trap a squirrel and cook it over a spit while they have target shooting practice.”

Ruby pointed her nose in the air. “I’m going to be the happiest out of all of you because that guy you just described actually exists somewhere, and he’ll treat me like a queen.” We laughed, and she went on. “Also, I’m returning all your Christmas gifts because I got you squirrel seasoning, and I can tell you don’t have the palates for it.”

That really cracked us all up, and we dove into teasing and chatter that lasted for the rest of our meal. While I participated, I only half listened as I analyzed why I hadn’t told them about Brooks kissing me and my own volcanic reaction to it. Over the years I’d learned to trust my friends and their advice and genuine love for me, but what was happening to my heart was something I’d never experienced, and, maybe if I said it out loud, the magic would all disappear.

“Why are you alone?” a deep voice startled me in the aisle of Walgreens drugstore.

I jumped and spun, nearly dropping the armload of magazines I was holding. Brooks smiled at my reaction, clearly the one he’d been going for, and I scowled at him. He looked too put together for Christmas Eve in a jacket, t-shirt, and faded jeans -- at least compared to the reindeer-print pajama bottoms and Aggies sweatshirt I was sporting. I was wearing boots as a concession to the weather, but I was already missing my fluffy slippers waiting at home.

“Why are you?” I retorted.

“You first,” he said. “It’s Christmas Eve, and you actually have people around to spend it with.”

“My friends are with their families, and my family is only good for one day of celebration per season. That’s tomorrow.” I turned back to the magazine rack and debated on what else I wanted to grab. “What’s your excuse?”

“My people live back east.”

“You have no people here?”

He shook his head. “Not holiday-level people, but I’m working on it.”

I nodded. “Fair enough.”

“I’m honestly surprised that your friends don’t invite you to join their families,” he said casually.

I pulled a face. “They did; they still do. Some years I go, but it’s kind of hard on me, to be honest. Sitting in a warm, cozy, joy-filled Christmas setting pinches a little. I try, but I can never quite get past the fact that I’m a guest. This year I begged off and am looking forward to using the night for my own thing.”

“Like catching up on celebrity gossip while sipping cider by the fire?” he asked, leaning in to see what I was carrying.

I caught his scent, and flashes of our kiss the other day skated to the forefront of my mind. I’d not spent much time thinking about . . . okay, I can’t even finish that lie. I’d thought very little about anything else for the past three days. I was a little embarrassed, to be honest, about basically throwing myself at him and begging him to keep kissing me. It was not my style. I always held a part of myself back and never threw caution to the wind that way. It was the reason I’d gently rebuffed his offers to see each other again.

He’d texted the next morning and asked if I was interested in watching a holiday movie at his place. I’d begged off, telling him I had plans with my friends, which had been true but hadn’t taken up my entire day. And in spite of my best efforts to retrench from my passionate reaction to him, here he stood smelling so amazing that I could practically feel his arms around me again. If I didn’t know better, I’d say my lips were about ready to attack his without my permission.

I snagged a copy of Good Housekeeping and shifted down the row to grab a poster board. “No,” I responded to his question. “I’m prepping for a project I’m going to do with my students. I like to do a trial run first to see how it goes and if I need to make adjustments.”

For the record, that was a total lie. But it was a great lie, being both believable and practical. This project was for me alone.

“Smart. What’s the project?” he followed me.

“My students really love to create a board with their New Year’s Resolutions on them in pictures. So, I ask parents to donate a bunch of magazines, and we spend an afternoon creating them. After they hang in the classroom for a week, the kids get to take them home to hang in their rooms and keep their goals in mind.”

This part wasn’t a lie. I really did do this with my students. Only today had nothing to do with them. I was creating my own vision board for the new year. It’s what I always did on Christmas Eve. It had become kind of a special time for me to be honest. A night I knew would be mine alone. I listened to Christmas music and took my time with the magazines, reading articles and clipping recipes to give to Hailey or Lizzie—because I’d never actually cook them. Sometimes my project overflowed into the days after Christmas, but I didn’t mind.

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