Page 54 of Yule Know It When You See It
Calculating the trajectory from my height versus his and the distance from the ground, I jump and barely get myself over his butt. A hysterical laugh plummets from my gut—the special one he’s risen from me—and I struggle not to fall off of him. He chuckles with me, his hands slide behind my knees and I’m secured on his back with one quick tug.
The sidewalks are unusually scarce of people. It’s probably a good thing, considering Axel slips several times and steers us toward street lamps, newspaper dispensers, and vendor stalls to keep his balance with extra weight on his back. But he never drops me, falls, or sends us flying to our backs. When his beard gets loaded with snowflakes, I shake them out for him, and a permanent smile etches into my cheeks. Axel’s grin only falters when he has to concentrate on not slipping, but otherwise, he’s laughing and re-adjusting me on his back at every intersection.
We make it to Axel’s apartment unscathed and with him serving as my gallant steed for the rest of the journey. We stand in the foyer in front of the elevators, and simultaneously reach for the up button making our hands brush.
Why couldn’tthishave been our meet cute? Not me being a total basket case and not holding the door for him?
The elevator ride lasts for only three floors, but we’re a constant pattern of glances, curling pinky fingers, and brushing elbows. When the doors chime open, he leads me down the hall with yellow and royal blue ornate carpeting, and we stop in front of a white door with a gold number seventeen hanging over the peephole.
“Will you close your eyes for me?” Axel whispers against my cheek, jingling the keys in his pockets and readying them to unlock the door.
Heat pools in my cheeks and belly. Grinning, I do as he asks. The door opens and his hand rests on my lower back, guiding me into the apartment. My hands are outstretched in front of me, but he leads me well enough that my fingers never brush anything. I hear the door click shut and the deadbolt sliding into place and locking.
“Now you can look, Romance.” I flutter my eyes open and let out a dreamy gasp, my hands flying to my gaping mouth.
A spruce tree rests in the center, a wall of windows displaying the Chicago skyline behind it. Simple decorations adorn the tree: berries, warm white lights, and pinecones. Axel steps to a fireplace on the right-side wall and lights it, the dancing orange flames spilling dancing fairy shadows across the room. The same spruce branches, berries, and white lights decorate the fireplace’s mantle, and two stockings hang on opposite ends—one dark blue, the other light. Paper stars with tiny holes and glowing warm white light inside dangle from every corner. A single log with markings carved into it is the only thing nestled under the tree.
“Axel, this is so—” I’m getting teary-eyed, and can scarcely believe it. “—perfect.”
A smile edges Axel’s lips, but this one is different—bashful even. He motions for me to come to him. “It’s only right if you do this with me.” He picks up the log from under the tree and tosses it in his palms.
“What is this?” I drag my fingertips over the markings.
“This is ourJullog. The markings represent things you hope for in the coming year. We toss the log into the fire and let it burn through the night until the sun rises.”
I’m still mesmerized by the carvings and cant my head as if I could somehow decipher them. “And what do these mean?”
He points to each symbol as he describes them. “Strength, prosperity, and growth. Did you want anything else added before we toss it in?”
I nibble my bottom lip. “Is there one for joy?”
“Yes.” His smile is sugarplums and steaming cocoa and has me so jittery to get my hands on him that I can scarcely stand it. He carves another symbol into the log, a straight line with a triangular shape at the top, resembling a jagged “p.” “This rune can also meanecstasydepending on how you interpret it.”
His lips gently brush mine and my stomach swoops to the Earth’s core. Together, we toss the log into the fire, this one sparking brighter than the rest, blue flames spurt from underneath it until settling into orange and yellow with the rest.
“And now, we wait to watch the sunrise.” Axel rubs a hand up and down my back like it’s something he’s done a thousand times. The familiarity of it has my insides warming along with the fire heating my skin.
“You had no qualms with trying to give me the romance piece all to myself because you can’t write fiction, let alone romance, can you?” My brow gives a playful bob, gaze still fixating on the bouncing flames and orange embers.
His palm stills between my shoulder blades. “I never said Icouldn’twrite fiction. I’ve never tried.”
“Mmhm. Yup.” I turn for my bag and pull out the jotting notebook and a pen. “I don’t think you can.”
A flippant chuckle escapes Axel’s throat, and he’s scratching the back of his shaved head. “Is this you getting back at me for going behind your back to Simone?”
“Maybe.” I drag out the “a” and flip to a fresh piece of paper after resting my butt on the edge of his glossy, mahogany desk. For some reason, I lick the tip of my pen like a quill and sputter when the taste of ink coats my tongue.
“What are you doing?”
I scribble something, but it’s drivel. Random words and phrases to keep the pen moving. “Taking notes. Had a few ideas for the story pop into my head.”
“Uh-huh.” Axel folds those burly arms and backs away in one, two, three strides. “Alright, Romance. How’s this?”
What is he doing?
“A Viking and a Shieldmaiden—partnered for several summers now, met in the heat of battle and the battlefield is where they’ve remained.” He takes a single step forward and mimics gestures like a sword is in his grasp.
I clutch the corner of my notebook, wincing as one of the wire coils of binding has gone rogue and pokes itself against my skin.
