Page 16 of Run, Run, Roommates
“Jesus,” Marco says. “Are you okay?”
One cheek is smooshed up so my lips are making a kissy face. “Mi’m finbe.”
I am fine . . . just my dignity is in shambles. Whatever.
Marco helps me push back onto the couch and I take a huge swig of my barely-cool-enough-to-drink coffee. “Should I wrap presents?” I ask when I swallow. I think I’ve just burned my tongue.
He shakes his head. “I was thinking we could do one of the more creative ones. Something that has the potential to earn us a bunch of extra points.”
I nod and pull out my phone. Marco’s head bends back over the kid’s camera he’s wrapping.
Pulling up the spreadsheet, I start to read off the list. Marco and I discard a few tasks that are more physical instead of creative. We debate how to go about making the biggest paper snowflake that we can, but ultimately decide on the one that we think will get us to most creative points—holiday-themed culinary art.
“It has to be edible and at least one square foot in size,” I read.
“What if we went down to that candy store and bought red and green M&M’s and did something like a mural or mosaic?” Marco suggests.
I wrinkle my nose. “That might have to be really big to make recognizable shapes.”
We go to the candy store anyway, and see what they have. We walk out twenty minutes later with a giant bag of knock-off Starbursts in bright red, yellow, and green. We’ll use them like Play-Doh to create a Christmas tree at the suggestion of the store clerk.
I pull one of the individually wrapped green candies out of the bag as we walk to the subway and frown at it. “I wonder why Starburst doesn’t have a green.” I unwrap the bright green cube and pop it into my mouth.
It’s mint.
“Bleh.” I spit the whole piece out.
“What is it?” Marco says, laughter in his voice. “Green apple? Lime?”
“Mint,” I say. Ugh, I’ve just drooled all over my hand. I trot over to a trash can and throw the vile candy away and wipe my hand on the side of my fleece-lined yoga pants. When Marco catches up, I stick out my tongue. “Gross.”
He shakes his head. We both dodge piles of gray slush on the sidewalk as we walk back to our place. I just threw sneakers on but I regret not wearing my boots. Today is sunny and warm enough that everything is wet and cold and dreary.
We stop at Duane Reade for posterboard and when we get home, we dump all the candy on our kitchen table and set to work peeling the candies and shaping them. I put on Christmas music, starting with “HERE (for Christmas)” by Lukas Graham, which always makes me cry. I belt out the lyrics while I twist yellow candies into ornaments and Marco hums along next to me. It’s kinda sticky work, and it definitely puts me off eating Starbursts.
Ding!
Both our phones go off at the same time and we freeze and look up at each other. Marco abandons his pile of green smooshed candy and picks up his phone. “It’s another burst challenge,” he says, excitement spilling into the words.
I drop the candy. “What do we do?”
Marco’s quiet while he reads the announcement. Then he glances up at me. “We have ten minutes to send a picture of a kiss under mistletoe.”
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Marco
Brin’s eyes widen and she grabs my arms. “I know where to go! Get your shoes on!”
It’s a good thing she can think, because my head is filled with kiss under mistletoe, kiss under mistletoe, kiss under mistletoe . . .
We scramble to throw sneakers and jackets on before we careen down the stairs. I can take them two at a time, so I beat Brin to the door. “Which way?” I’m already breathless as I hold the door open for her.
“Left!” she shrieks, laughing as she passes me.
As I run behind her I start to think that maybe this isn’t the best idea. What good can come from kissing my roommate?
“How many points is it?” Brin asks. She’s slowed a little, and I keep pace with her.
