Page 29 of Run, Run, Roommates
He sighs and leans back in the chair. “Sure. But I’ll pay for you to take an Uber to and from, that way you don’t have to walk with a box of toys.”
I know a good idea when I hear one so I agree. “You plan the activities for today, though, deal?”
“Deal.”
An hour later I’m back with a box of toys. I’m glad I accepted the Uber, because yesterday’s toys were twice as many as the first day, and today’s toys are double that. Good thing we were getting so many points for doing this.
Marco had ordered the car for me and it waited at the hotel while I ran in. When I pull up to the curb, he’s outside, ready to take the boxes upstairs.
“This is a lot,” Marco grunts, putting a box of books down on our kitchen table. It’s heavy, and there have probably got to be thirty books in there, mostly middle grade and YA.
I’ve got the box with the supplies and stuffed animals. I’m not entirely sure how we’re supposed to wrap a stuffed alligator—if I was giving it as a gift I would put it in a bag.
“So.” I put my hands on my hips. “Have you come up with a plan for today?”
“Yup.” He turns his laptop toward me and we both bend over it looking at the spreadsheet. “I booked us tickets for ice-skating at the Rink but it’s not until three, so you’ll probably want to go from there right to work.”
“Oh, cool,” I say. “I’ve never been.”
“To the Rink? Or Rockefeller?”
“Ice-skating.”
“Oh. You never went ice-skating as a kid?”
I scrunch up my face. “Maybe once when I was really young, before my sister was born? I’m not sure.” I roll my eyes. “Tennessee isn’t exactly cold enough that ice-skating is a huge thing.” There was an ice rink in Chattanooga during the holiday season, but it was a few hours away.
“Right, well, today I guess you’ll learn how to skate.”
Marco gives me a small smile, and I perk up a little. Skating sounds exciting.
“Now, until then, I was thinking we could bake cookies, and while they’re in the oven or cooling, we can wrap presents.”
“Okay,” I agree. “What cookies should we make?”
We read the instructions: two dozen holiday-themed cookies worthy of Instagramming. We have to submit a video of the two of us eating the cookies, so presumably, we need to have two edible cookies out of the two dozen. It doesn’t outright say it, but Marco and I both agree it’s also an opportunity for creativity points.
We spend some time googling “cute Christmas cookies” and then debating our tactic. Marco wants to make simple sugar cookies and hand decorate. I remind him that neither of us is artistic, so I suggest these cute cookies with snowmen on top.
I win.
Marco runs out for supplies while I move the presents to the living room to give us space. I also move my big red candle over, so the room soon fills with the scent of Holiday Sparkle.
I’m six wrapped presents in when Marco returns.
He waves at me to stay where I am. “Keep working on that. I’ll start on the cookies.”
I get back to the wrapping, but there’s a lot of banging and muttering coming from the kitchen. I hear an oh, shit and a lot of hmmmms. Then it’s a rhythmic metal-on-metal whisking.
I smile at the poinsettia wrapping paper.
“Have you ever made sugar cookies before?” I shout.
“Maybe? I can’t remember. Have you?”
“Yeah, a few times.”
Marco emerges, holding a bowl. He scoops up some batter with the whisk. “Does this look ‘light and creamy’ to you? This is just the butter and sugar. It’s ‘step two,’ which is actually a giant paragraph that should be five steps instead.”
