Page 43 of Yule Know It When You See It
Smirking, because laughing feels about as suitable as a root canal, I wave at Simone through her office window before exiting the office. “I’ll be there in twenty, Spence.”
“Great. I’ll have a cold one waiting for ya, Ax.”
Spencer lives only one block past where I do, so I make it a point to walk. As much as icy cold temperatures are associated with sickness, cold also has healing properties if you let it. Albeit generally in the form of plunging into icy waters, the frigid air always seems to work for me, too. Inside, I feel numb, so making my face feel the same, balances me. Though, it does nothing for my mental state.
Had I said something,donesomething? And why wouldn’t shetalkto me about it?
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmasplays from a nearby shop with its door cracked, children run circles on the sidewalk while a woman stares at her phone screen, and scents of cinnamon overlap with the burning rubber from traffic, making nausea bubble in my gut. When I walk these streets with Theo, all I can smell is the holidays. There could be a rotting rat carcass trailing us, and I’d still only get whiffs of cinnamon, baked cookies, and juniper.
When Spencer answers his apartment door, my hands are in my jacket pockets, my head held low, and my gaze burns a hole in the swirly red carpet.
“Jesus, Ax. You look like hell,” Spence announces, clapping a shoulder on my back and yanking me into the apartment.
“I certainly feel like it,” I mumble, not bothering to take my jacket off, but toe my boots off, out of respect for his immaculate white carpet.
Spencer is in the kitchen, walking back with a brown bottle, and handing it to me. “Here. Plenty more where that came from and harder stuff in the cabinet if you need it.”
Condensation formed on the bottle collects on my skin as I wrap my hand around it. “Thanks.”
“Okay, Nord. Now Iknowthere’s something going on because you haven’t made one crack against the caterpillar growing on my upper lip.”
Finally lifting my gaze, I spy the thin peppering of dark hair forming on Spencer’s lip and bite the inside of my cheek. “Freddie Mercury called—” I start, losing my train of thought, completely forgetting where I intended to go with that joke.
Spencer sighs and takes the bottle from me. “Take off your damn coat, and let’s go sit down. Come on, Axel, one arm then the other.”
I do as he instructs, take the bottle back, and we sit on Spencer’s brown leather sofa at opposite sides. “I like her, Spence.” The words are vague and random, and I don’t care.
“No shit, Sherlock.” Spencer smirks and curls two fingers around the bottle’s neck, swigging some beer and halfway watching the game.
“How do you know who I’m talking about?” I guzzle half the bottle.
“Theo?”
My shoulders slump, and I groan. “That’d be the one.”
“What happened?” Spencer scoops the remote in his hand, muting the TV.
Did he just—mute a Meteors game?Faen.
“Am I coming across so pathetic you’re muting the game?” I toss the empty beer bottle between my hands.
Spencer hikes one knee on the couch, turning to face me. “Yes. You do. Now talk.”
It’s one thing I always liked about Spence. No sugarcoating, no analogies. Straight to the point to resolve the problem.
“Things have been going great. She doesnothate me, after all. Yes. You were right before you hold that one over my head.” I eye Spencer sidelong, and he’s grinning. “I mean, hell, Spence. We almost screwed in the office last night.”
Still holding the bottle, he points at me. “Is that what this is about? She rejected you?”
Somehow, her ignoring me is far worse than any form of rejection. At least with rejection, it’s a defined answer. There are no hopes and dreams wrapped in a decline. As much as it might hurt, at least youknow.
“No. And I don’t think she would have. Everything was going great. We’d just walked along Lake Shore Drive and had this mind-blowing kiss.” I let my head fall back to the couch cushions. “Decided to pull an all-nighter feeling inspired for the story. And it was epically perfect. The only lights on were the tree, not a soul in sight.” My hand grips the empty bottle so tightly my skin squeaks against the glass.
Spencer appears beside me, gently but forcibly removing the bottle from my grasp. “Let me grab you something that’ll put more hair on your chest, hm?”
As Spencer disappears to the kitchen, I sit forward with my arms on my thighs, face falling into my palms. “The damn janitor walked in on us, Spence.”
“Oh, yikes. How far had you two gotten?” Spencer yells from the kitchen, the sounds of ice clanking into a glass following.
