Page 22 of A DIY Christmas Miracle
Which was ridiculous. And the sooner I got that into my head, the better for me because we had to share a room for the rest of the week, and I couldn’t very well use him as my personal pillow every night.
Sometimes I didn’t know if us sharing a bed was a blessing or a curse. A dream or a nightmare.
Every morning was like a dream come true. Holding him in my arms while he was still blissfully asleep was a dream. And then said dream turned into a nightmare. Because it was all in my head. The illusion of a relationship, nothing else.
Heaving another sigh, I wandered into the kitchen and prepared the coffee maker before sitting down at the breakfast bar.
The kitchen was pristine, practically glistening, not a single speck of flour to be found to remind me of my little accident yesterday. The little accident that proved I wasn’t even capable of baking cookies without making a huge mess.
Eli had thought it was funny. He’d laughed at me. And while it was a pleasure to listen to his full, uninhibited laughter and seeing his whole face light up with joy, it’d been torture to know his laughter was directed at me.
He’d laughed at me and even taken pictures of me while I’d been covered in flour. Yes, he’d promised not to show them to anyone, but did I believe him? I wanted to. I wanted to believe him so badly. But why take those photos in the first place if he didn’t plan on sharing them with the others?
Sometimes I didn’t understand Eli at all.
For example, suggesting this trip had been so unlike him.
The coffee maker made a gurgling sound as, finally, a stream of black liquid started dripping into the pot. After a couple of minutes, I poured myself a cup, sat down at the breakfast bar again, and looked out of the window. It was amazing here. A true paradise. A pristine, snowy landscape as far as the eye could see. White, powdery snow glitteringly reflected the morning sun. It was magical.
Even though I didn’t understand his reasons for suggesting this trip, I needed to be grateful Eli had. Otherwise, I’d be sitting at home all alone. My parents were back in England as my father had been offered a professorship in Oxford.
However, as beautiful as the cabin was and as breathtaking the scenery might be, this whole trip just didn’t sound like the Eli I’d heard complaining about snow and winter for the past two years.
Eli was the one asking when winter would finally be over as soon as the first snowflake hit the ground. He was the one wearing one of those ridiculously big scarves that was bigger than him and who wrapped himself up like a caterpillar building a cocoon as soon as the temperatures reached below zero. He even managed to look good wearing that thing!
On the other hand, he could probably wear a trash bag and I’d still find him attractive. Because he was Eli.
“Morning,” I was greeted by a quiet and kind of subdued voice. Eli staggered rather than walked into the room and immediately dropped onto one of the stools next to me. His head hit the wooden counter with a dull thud, his silvery blond hair surrounding his head like a halo.
“Kill me,” he mumbled softly. “Just kill me now.”
As if I could ever lift a finger against him.
“Do you want coffee?”
“Mhmm.”
Was that supposed to be ayesor ano?
I decided to take it as a yes and got up to pour Eli a cup of coffee, too.
“Here you go.” I placed the cup right in front of his head, but Eli didn’t even move. He just murmured something so quietly that I wasn’t able to make out the words. But I got the gist of it: he wasn’t happy.
But why?
Eli wasn’t usually a grump.
“Are you all right?” Maybe he was getting sick. It wouldn’t surprise me at all. Winter was always the season students and teachers kept infecting each other with every bug imaginable.
“Mhmm,” was his only answer, but this time, Eli at least turned his head in my direction and peered up at me through his lashes, face unusually pale. Maybe he really was getting sick.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Mhmm.”
He shrugged, then straightened and gave me a hollow smile. Yes, the corners of his mouth turned upwards for a moment, but that was it. His eyes remained cold; there was no fire there, no spark, no gleaming, and the next moment, his mouth turned downwards again.
Would it be presumptuous to check if he was running a fever? Did the small first aid kit I’d brought come with a thermometer? Maybe I should ask Jack if he could bring one. Was that even possible, or were they already on their way?
