Page 21 of Presley's Christmas Catch
And the truth is I caught a few of our guys murmuring agreement with what he said.
“And you have both because…?” Brock asks.
“BecauseChristmas.”
He looks down at his cocoa. “Right. Christmas.”
I set my cocoa on the side table next to my end of the couch. “So, board game, Christmas movie, or if you have another idea, I’m open.” It’s so hard not to just grin my face off that he’s here, but I try to stay chill as I lean back against the squishy cushion of my couch.
Brock takes another slow sip and then lets out a long breath. Hot cocoa is magic like that. “What kind of Christmas movie are we talking? Like Hallmark…” He lets the sentence dangle, and even though he’s not saying how he feels about that, it’s all over the cringe he can’t quite keep off his face.
“Whatever you want. I love Christmas movies of manygenres. Between streaming and rentals, the Christmas movie world is in the palm of your hands.”
“You’re letting me choose out of pity, right?” He narrows his eyes at me.
Of course I am. His team lost 31-7 on Thanksgiving Day. “Are you mad about that?” I pick up the remote from the side-table and turn on the TV.
He sets his cocoa down on the matching side-table on his end and settles back against the couch. “Not at all. How aboutWhite Christmas?” I can’t hold back my surprise, and he says, “What?”
“Honestly, I was expecting you to beA Christmas StoryorDiehardtype of guy.” I start searching for a place to stream the movie.
He chuckles. “I actually hateA Christmas Story. Like intense levels of loathing.”
I gasp. Brock and I are actual soulmates. Well, in a friend kind of way. (For now, a little voice says, and I ignore it.) “Me too!”
“Is that pity agreement? Everyone loves that movie.” Then he shudders and closes his eyes for a second.
I’m giggling. I can’t help it. “I promise. It’s the worst. That leg lamp. I don’t know what it is. I can’t get over it.”
“Iknow! It’s so weird.”
“You should have known I didn’t like it,” I say as I click around to rentWhite Christmas. “TOK lovers are a rare breed. It makes sense that we’d all share similar tastes in a lot of things.”
“There’s a user on the website forum who named all of their children after the commanders of the Forces of Vorath and claims that Lord Vorath had some good ideas, politically, you know.” Brock says this with a completely straight face, though his lips twitch with amusement.
I turn and blink at him. “That has to be a joke.”
His eyes dance. “In any case, I was relieved to find out shortly after I met you that you didn’t have any children who could be named after representatives of the Eternal Darkness.”
I snort. “Obviously my children will be named Lyra and Kael.”
“That’s fair.”
The movie starts and we settle in to watch. I’m grateful that Brock has no problem chatting during the movie, commenting on his favorite parts. I can rarely keep my mouth shut during movies, especially if I’ve seen it a few times. We fit together so perfectly. I force myself not to say anything weird like that. Telling him thatwe’d both like a movieis enough cringe for one night.
When he shifts into a more comfortable position—legs up on the large ottoman in front of the couch, head leaned against the back of the couch, and arms snuggled in a small, knitted blanket—I know he’s going to fall asleep. It’s been a long day, and I suspect the reason why he didn’t want to go back to the hotel yet, but it’s still past midnight and he’s probably been up since five or six this morning.
Within a few minutes, his eyes close. I swallow back amusement at the way he snaps them open before they drift shut again. It’s exactly what my dad does when he’s fighting to stay awake during a movie.
I stand up, and Brock’s gaze shoots to me. “Bathroom break,” I whisper, pointing down the hall. “Be right back.” I know what I’ll find when I come back, and that’s the point. Without me in the room, he won’t feel bad about giving in to closing his eyes—just for a minute.
Sure enough, by the time I return, he’s breathing deeply. I settle onto my side of the couch and watch him shamelessly. The night we met at Lincoln’s wedding has existed in a bubble for me. Fun, one of the best nights of my life, and it was so comfortable sitting and chatting with him about my favorite characters, the settings, the crazy plot twists, and the magical moments of that series. We talked about our lives and our families between that. But it was all surreal, this tall, muscled, gorgeous football player with a killer smile and soft eyes,hanging out at a table off to the side of the dance floor withme.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the whole football player thing. I’m around them all the time, famous ones, too, like Eli Dash, Mark Travis, Anthony Hurley, and Lincoln Knight. They’re real guys who aren’t that much different from the rest of us, but that doesn’t change the fact that it was special that Brock chose me to talk to because he’s … Brock. Lincoln Knight is still his best friend, even though they haven’t played on the same team together for years. Given what he's told me about playing for the Devils (and all the rumors), it’s not surprising he doesn’t have a close friend on his team. But I can tell that he’s not the type of guy who’s friends with everyone. He chooses carefully. And the night of the wedding, he chose me. We could have chatted about the books for a little bit and then he could have gone to dance with one of the actresses. Or hung out with the people he knew better, like the Rays players and their families.
But he stayed with me, and until he texted tonight, asking to come over, it was like a dream I’d had one time that was so good I’d made it into a memory.
Tonight he’s real and sleeping on my couch. It’s an honor that he felt safe enough here for that. I roll my eyes at myself for thinking it, but I can’t dismiss the thought outright.
