Page 53 of Grinchland
No. I hated it. But loved how excited it made her, so I forced a smile. “It’s interesting.”
She sighed as she studied me. “You can’t wear?—”
“Basic?”
She paused before she nodded. “That’s right, you can’t wear basic clothes all the time.” Then she glanced around the room. “You don’t have to worry about anyone seeing you in here. It’s just me,” she said as she brought her gaze back to meet mine.
I glanced from the sweater over to Clara and then back to the sweater. “You really want me to wear this?” I asked. Every part of my being was telling me not to, but all I wanted to do was make Clara happy, even if it meant putting this offending item on my body.
She smiled and nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
I shifted my weight until I was sitting in the middle of the couch cushion. I grabbed the back of my collar and pulled it off in one swift motion. I heard Clara inhale, and I glanced over to see that her cheeks had reddened and her gaze was trained on my chest.
Satisfaction rose up inside of me as I smirked at her. If I was going to wear this ridiculous sweater, at least I was going to have some fun doing it. But when her gaze met mine and I saw the heat and desire that she had for me, suddenly, this was no longer a game.
This was something so much more.
I pulled the sweater on, and Clara climbed back onto my lap and kissed me until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Even though wearing this sweater went against everything I’d stood for the last three years, I suddenly didn’t care. All I wanted in this moment was Clara.
For the first time in a long time, I felt alive.
For the first time in a long time, I felt…free.
TWENTY-TWO
CLARA
Things had completely changed between Silas and me. He was the last thing I thought about when I went to bed and the first thing I thought about when I woke up. I spent the morning wondering what he was doing and even tried to catch of glimpse of him from my house as I dressed and made myself breakfast.
My entire body warmed when I saw him walk by his kitchen window, and I feared if I didn’t hurry, I was going to miss seeing him even though it had only been six hours since he’d left my house. He’d stayed over last night until the wee hours of the morning. We made out on the couch and then snuggled under a blanket while we watched Die Hard—his favorite Christmas movie.
I wanted to object—Die Hard was not a Christmas movie—but he seemed so excited to share it with me. Plus, he’d been such a good sport about doing all of my Christmas traditions, that I decided to give him this one.
After the movie was over, I straightened on the couch and declared that I had been right, Die Hard was indeed not a Christmas movie. I met his gaze head-on in anticipation of his argument.
Instead of fighting, Silas just grabbed my arms and yanked me to his chest, where he kissed me with such passion and fury that my objection flew from my mind and all that existed was him and I.
We were all that mattered.
And when his gaze caught mine as we both climbed into our cars, and I saw the intensity with which he was staring at me, I knew he felt the same. That thought both thrilled and terrified me.
By all accounts, Silas and I were opposites. We were two sides of a coin that didn’t make sense. He was grumpy, and I was Christmas. He was black and white, and I was glitter and everything festive. He shouldn’t want me, and I shouldn’t want him. But for some reason, none of that mattered. He was the person that got my heart racing. And from the way he kissed me last night, I did the same for him.
Thankfully, twenty-four five-year-olds all breaking down because they forgot their lines provided the distraction I needed from my thoughts of Silas. We spent most of the day rehearsing the play until I called it good—or good enough—and declared we were doing arts and crafts until the end of the day.
I didn’t bother to go home. Tonight was opening night, and I needed to get some last-minute things ready. As the time grew closer to six, I began to feel on edge. Every time someone appeared in the doorway of the gym, my gaze whipped over to see if it was Silas and Isabelle. But each time I saw another child’s parents enter, my stomach fell.
I had confidence that he was going to show up, but there was a part of me, a teeny, tiny part of me that feared this was all too much. That he was going to wake up and realize I’d pushed Christmas on the Christmas-hating mayor, and he was going to revolt.
“Ms. Snow!” Isaac’s mom exclaimed as she approached me.
I blinked a few times, forcing my thoughts from Silas. “Hey, Mrs. Parkes.” I stepped closer to her. “Everything okay?”
Her grin grew wider. “I don’t know how you did it, but I just wanted to say thank you for bringing a bit of Christmas back to this town. I thought Silas would come to his senses eventually, but as the years went on, that hope slowly died.” She sighed. “But then you showed up and bang”—she clapped her hands—“Christmas.”
I glanced around, fearing that Silas would overhear and realize that I’d successfully wiggled the holiday that he hated back into Grinchland. That may have been the reason I initially did all of this, but things had changed. They’d changed a lot.
“I’m glad you’re happy.”
