Page 75 of Icing on the Cake

I wonder what he’d look like in some of my clothes. Maybe one of my BSU hockey team sweatshirts. Yeah, he’d probably swim in it, but it’d be adorable.

Elliot straightens up, and I quickly avert my gaze so he doesn’t catch me staring. He has this way of looking both fragile and resilient at the same time, like a piece of glass that’s been tempered in a forge.

I’m drawn to him in a way that goes beyond physical attraction. I want to understand him and break through the walls he’s built around himself.

“Do you guys do this every year?” Elliot asks, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” Alex says. “It’s a team tradition. Each year, two people are assigned to the job.”

I notice Elliot glance at Alex’s hoodie, then at me. Is hethinking the same thing I am? That wearing your significant other’s clothes is a declaration of something more than just fashion?

“We’re lucky you’re here to help us out this time,” I say to Elliot. “You’re a natural.”

He shrugs modestly. “It’s kind of like dissecting an orange in biology class. Once you know where the seams are, it’s easy.”

I laugh. “Leave it to you to make pumpkin carving sound academic.”

Elliot rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest. Instead, he goes back to his pumpkin and starts scraping out the last bits of guts with a spoon.

I can’t stop thinking about how he’d look in my sweatshirt, all snuggled up and warm. Would he wear it with pride, like Alex does with Kyle’s? Or would he be self-conscious about it, unsure if he has the right to claim that piece of me?

“Did you do this a lot when you were a kid, Elliot?” Alex asks.

Elliot sets down his spoon and wipes his hands on a towel. “Actually, no. This is my first time.”

Alex and I both stop what we’re doing and stare at Elliot. I’m shocked. Genuinely shocked.

“That’s like like saying you’ve never eaten a slice of pizza or…or watched a single episode of Sesame Street.”

Elliot shrugs nonchalantly. “My mom and I didn’t have the time for ‘fun’ things.”

I can’t even process what he’s saying. Growing up in Elk Valley, my family made a tradition out of every little thing—carving pumpkins, building snowmen, and even making ridiculous Valentine’s Day cards. The idea that someone could grow up without those simple joys is supremely foreign to me.

“I always had a ton of homework to do,” Elliot continues. “I spent most of my nights studying and sleeping. I didn’t mind.”

I glance at Alex, who appears as troubled as I am. Sure, Elliot might not have minded, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have enjoyed these kinds of activities if he’d had the chance.

“That sounds…intense,” I say, trying to be diplomatic.

Elliot waves it off. “It paid off. I got a scholarship here, didn’t I?”

There’s a moment of silence where I don’t know what to say. I respect how hard Elliot has worked—getting a scholarship is no small feat—but I can’t help feeling sad for him.

“You can make up for lost time now,” Alex says softly.

Elliot’s eyes dart between the two of us. “Maybe.”

There’s a distance in his voice that says he doesn’t quite believe it. Sensing Elliot doesn’t want to go too deep into it, I change the subject. “Speaking of scholarships and college stuff, what’s your major?”

“English. I want to write a novel someday.”

This surprises me. Not that he’s an English major—I could have guessed that from where he works—but that he has such a clear goal. “That’s awesome. What kind of novel?”

He shrugs, but there’s a spark in his eyes now. “I’m not sure yet. I’ve got a few ideas kicking around in my head.”

“Like?”

“One is about a guy who wakes up in a world where everyone has superpowers except for him. Another is set in the future where people can upload their consciousness into robots and live forever.”

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