Page 39 of Yule Know It When You See It
Rupert’s casually leaning on the doorframe when it opens, his hips jutted to one side like the diva he is. He’s now wearing black slick pants and a black long-sleeved shirt with a white exaggerated collar sticking out from beneath it. “Saw it on TV. Wondered how long it would take for you to spill the beans.”
“You don’t watch sports. And that outfit is a major no. You look like Wednesday Adams and not in a good way.”
Rupert frowns and fiddles with the collar. “What if I added a pigtail wig?”
“No,” I snarl, pointing at the fitting room.
He rolls his eyes and dramatically dives back in, closing the door with a flourish. “I was on a date, and it happened to be playing on one of the TVs. I hadn’t been paying any attention, but when your two faces pop up on screen? Well, honey, it’s hard to ignore.”
Groaning, I flop back to the bench, hunching and letting my face fall in my hands.
How many other people I know saw it? The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind at the time—livesports. Major league. Ugh it all.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I say into my hands.
Rupert gasps. “Are you pregnant?”
“What?” I slap my palms to my knees. “No. That’d involve, oh, I don’t know,coitus?”
Rupert’s nose twitches, and he gags on thin air. “Honestly, Theo, who calls it that?”
I make a puppet out of my hand and hold it between us, moving the “mouth” as I speak robotically. “We have not had sex. Only kissed.” Pausing, I turn the puppet toward my face, sigh, and shrug, before spinning it back to face Rupert. “Several times.”
Rupert holds up a hand, indicating I should stop talking. “Pause right there, sister. I need you to tell me this to my face, but I must try the rest of these outfits on.” He sashays back into the dressing room, and I yelp when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
As I trace a finger over my lips, I realize Axel’s mouth left an imprint against my skin. Every place he touched—I trail my fingers across my collarbones, stomach, and cheek. I don’t want that feeling to go away. I want iteverywhere—down to my damn elbow.
“Uh-huh,” Rupert says all-knowingly. “If you don’t admit you’re bonkers for this guy, I may have to disown you, honey.” He sports a black velvet jacket with gold foil filigree embroidered on the border, no shirt, and those same black skinny pants.
“That one is a keeper,” I say this mostly because I don’t want to admit anything to Rupert northinkabout our kisses.
Rupert doesn’t budge. “Great. The kisses explanation now, please.”
There’s no winning this one.
I rattle the words with the speed of an auctioneer. “Almost kiss skating. Kiss on Kiss Cam. Axel asks to go for a walk, says that wouldn’t be our first kiss, and he kisses me again on Lake Shore Drive with the lights and the music, and it starts snowing, and it’s almost too perfect for words. And he twirls me. Twirls. Me.”
When I finally get the nerve to glance at Rupert, his eyes glisten and his bottom lip trembles.
“The big hulking brute is a romantic?” Rupert bites his knuckle.
He doesn’t know the half of it. But the moment under the tree with Axel? That’s one I’ll reserve for me and me alone.
“He’s seemingly this perfect mix between brawn, brains, and bliss.” A smile flutters over my lips, and I feel this sudden urge to see Axel. Even to say hi and see him grinning at me.
Rupert slides in front of me, unblinking and lips pulled into a thin line. “If you don’t pursue him, Theodora, I swear,Iwill. Gay or not, Iwilltry.”
As joking as Rupert’s words are, a surge of surprising possessiveness bubbles in my core. It’s not like Axel is mine by any form of the word. Heck, he’s not even my boyfriend. The realization makes my limbs numb.
“Would you be mad if I ditched you?” I display a frown to rival a circus clown.
“Not if it’s to get your cute ass back to the office and make googly eyes at Axel.” Rupert’s shoulder bumps against mine.
After giving Rupert a quick peck on the cheek, I sprint out the door and make my way to the office.
Knowing Axel’s desk will be directly to my left, the jitters that overcome me when I round the corner are uncontrollable. No, not jitters. Titillating goosebumps are more like it. And when his head lifts, as if sensing my presence, and that panty-dropping smile graces his mouth? I’m drowning in his sea-blue eyes and letting myself sink to the sandy bottom.
“Hey,” I say, combing my hair over one ear, my feet turning toward themselves pigeon-toed style.
