Page 48 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
Max groans as though I’ve just asked him to move mountains, dragging a hand over his face. He pushes off the bed and stands up, pulling on a shirt and grumbling as he does, “You’re insufferable.”
I pause, glancing up at him with a tilt of my head and as close to a serious expression as I can. “You know, you say that a lot.”
His brows furrow as his head pops out of the shirt. “Because it’s true.”
I grin, but there’s a thread of challenge under it this time. “Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder—are insults your love language, Calder? Because if so, you’re practically serenading me. Impossible, insufferable, ridiculous…they are never-ending. It’s heart-warming, honestly.”
He stares at me, deadpan, and for a beat, I think he’s going to bark back something sharp. But his ears betray him, pinking at the tips, and that’s all the confirmation I need.
“Could be worse,” I add, standing and brushing past him on my way to the door. “You could be the strong-and-silent type. At least this way, I know you’re paying attention.”
Max mutters something under his breath that sounds akin toregretting it,but he’s tugging on a clean and dry hoodie over his shirt, getting fully dressed without another word.
And yeah, maybe it still stings, the way every compliment I dig for comes wrapped in barbs, but if that’s all he’s willing to give, I will take it. Because at least it means I’m under his skin.
The snow is deeper now, creeping halfway up to our knees as we slog down the sidewalk. My cheeks sting with cold, my breath fogging in sharp clouds. Beside me, Max doesn’t say much, no surprise there, but he doesn’t move away either. Weshoulder through the storm together, the silence thick but…not uncomfortable. Not for me, anyway.
We pass a crew of electric workers hunched around a tangle of lines, bundled in reflective jackets. I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips, tipping my chin toward them. “See? Hope. Maybe we’ll have lights and heat again before we freeze to death.”
Max just grunts, but I catch the way his gaze lingers on them, letting himself believe it too.
By the time we reach the sub shop two blocks over, I’m half-frozen, my toes long past numb. The moment we step inside, heat slams into us, almost too much all at once. I groan, peeling off my beanie and gloves, shaking melted snow from my sleeves. “Two more minutes out there and I think I would have been a popsicle.”
Max exhales slowly, as if his bones are thawing along with mine. He unzips his coat and rolls his shoulders, and for the tiniest second, he looks…relieved.
The place is buzzing, the usual college hangout chaos: low music, clattering trays, laughter echoing from a table in the corner where a group of students are playingJenga. Shelves of board games line the wall, battered from too much use, but the sight fills me with happiness anyway.
I am a little surprised that it’s so busy, but I guess this is better than freezing at the dorms if you’re stuck here like us. And I know that there are other students who stay instead of flying back home across the country or overseas, depending on where they are from.
The warmth in the shop is bliss, a cozy bubble against the storm outside, but the second we step up to the counter to order, something in Max shifts. He keeps his voice low, clipped, barely looking at me while we rattle off our sandwich order. His handbrushes mine once, totally by accident, but still, and he jerks it back like the counter’s on fire.
I frown, but don’t press. Maybe it’s the crowd. Maybe he just doesn’t enjoy being out in it. Doesn’t matter. I can be sunshine enough for the both of us.
After we order and pay, I drift over to the board games they have for use. Scanning them before saying, “Pick your poison.” He shrugs. But I’m already reaching for a game with half the pieces missing because that’s part of the charm of this place. My grin widens as I pluck it off the shelf. “Perfect.Connect Four. You ready to lose, Calder?”
We slide into a corner booth, trays between us, and I chatter while we start to eat, filling the silence with bad jokes and commentary on the game ofJengagoing on a few tables over. He doesn’t give me much, just a grunt here, a smirk there, but I’ll take it.
When I drag out theConnect Fourset from the box, it’s missing a bunch of blue pieces, so we end up sharing reds to make it work. Max raises a brow, unimpressed, but humors me anyway, sliding his chips into the slots with maddening precision.
By the time the grid fills, I’m grinning ear to ear. “Red wins,” I announce, popping one last piece into place. “That’s me.”
Max glances at the board, then back at me. “Half those reds are mine.”
I wave him off. “Technicality. Still red. Still me.”
“Not how it works.”
“Exactly how it works.” I lean back, smug. “I win. Admit it, Calder. You’ve been defeated by Christmas cheer and superior strategy.”
For a second, something flickers in his eyes—as though hewantsto argue, maybe even smile—but he just shakes his head and goes back to his sandwich.
By the time I polish off my sandwich, most of the crowd has cleared out. TheJengacrew packs up with a chorus of laughter, and suddenly, it’s just a couple of students at the far window and us in our little corner booth. The air feels warmer.
I crinkle the paper around the cookie I insisted on ordering and set it between us. “Saved the best for last,” I say, breaking it in half. Max just eyes it, skeptical as always, but he doesn’t argue when I push his piece across the tray.
I nibble mine slowly, letting the sugar sit on my tongue, and before I know it, words are spilling out. “You know, at home…Thanksgiving’s always this big deal. My mom goes completely overboard—like, three different pies, even though there’s never enough people to eat them all. Dad strings lights early just to bug the neighbors, and my sister makes us put on these goofy turkey hats she finds at the party store every year. It’s…loud. Warm. Kinda chaotic, but in the best way.”
I stare down at the cookie in my hands, picking at the loose crumbs. “It hit me earlier that…this year? That’s not happening. Flight’s grounded, everyone’s back home without me. Guess Thanksgiving just isn’t a thing for me this time.”
