Page 25 of A DIY Christmas Miracle
“They’re trying to snag the best room!” Linda shouted indignantly.
“Hey, that’s unfair.” Cassy joined the protest and within seconds, the living room was empty once again — apart from Eli and me. Loud banging sounds followed our friends down the hallway and up the stairs.
I hesitantly looked over at Eli, who was just staring at the hallway for a while. Then, a triumphant grin appeared on his face, lighting up his whole expression.
“Well,” he said, laughing, “it’s a good thing we already snagged the best room.”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
There was a pause in which neither of us said anything. We just stared at one another for a while before I quickly looked away and tried coming up with something to talk about before the silence turned awkward. Well, more awkward, I supposed.
“I… uhm… I think I’m going to miss the quietness of the past two days,” I finally said, smiling at Eli. Feeling my glasses slip down my nose, I hastily pushed them back up.
“Me, too.” Eli’s voice sounded gentle, almost reverent. Almost as if yesterday meant as much to him as it had to me. As if he’d enjoyed our time together in the same way and not just as a welcome change from boring, old, everyday life.
“It’s so fucking unfair that I have to stay in the room with the tiny bunk beds,” Marc complained for at least the tenth time.
“Why is it unfair?”
I groaned when Linda replied instead of just ignoring his sullen attitude.
“Because…” Marc frowned and downed a big gulp of eggnog. “Well… there are two beds in the room. Eli and Will are two people. They should take the room with two beds instead of a room with only one.”
Eli snorted, rolling his eyes.
“Yes, sure. Will and I are two people, so we’re obviously supposed to get the smallest room in the whole freaking cabin, huh? And you’re graciously volunteering to take the big room with a king-size bed and an en suite off our hands, right?”
“Exactly.”
“Over my dead body.” Eli shook his head. “You wanted a room to yourself, and you got it.”
Marc pushed his lower lip out in a pout and gave me a pleading look.“Wiiiilllll?”
“No.” I tried sounding firm and authoritative, shaking my head vigorously to get my point across. Not a particularly good idea, since the movement made my glasses slide down my nose, almost slipping off completely. At the last moment, I got a hold of them, stopped shaking my head, then plucked the glasses off my nose and cleaned the lenses with the corner of my shirt.
“You don’t even know what I want to say!” The eggnog in Marc’s mug was sloshing against the rim, almost spilling over. Had he spiked his drink? Was he drunk?
“He doesn’t need to.” Eli was speaking up again, folding his hands in front of him, staring at Marc reprovingly, as if he were one of his students who’d messed up. “Everyone’s got a room — period. I really don’t want to listen to you whining about having to sleep in a single bed as a single person all week long!”
“You just don’t want to swap because you desperately want to have Will in your bed.”
Eli turned white as a ghost. His eyes, huge and frightened, flicked to me, then back to Marc. A blush crept up his neck, coloring his cheeks an adorable shade of red.
“That’s enough,” Eli hissed softly, but his words hit just like a whip: sharp, powerful, biting. For a moment, it seemed as if he wanted to add something, but in the end, he just shook his head, put on a suggestive grin, focused on me, and batted his eyelashes. “What do you think, Will, darling? Is Marc right and I just want to share a bed so I can cuddle you all night long?” he whisper-shouted, so exaggeratingly suggestive that Cassy started giggling.
I, on the other hand, didn’t know how to react at all. My mouth was dry and my fingers cold as ice while sweat started forming on my forehead. Was everybody looking at me?
What was I supposed to say? Everyone was staring at me, waiting for a reaction.
I hastily downed the rest of my eggnog — at least half a glass — in one go. The alcohol burned in my throat, masking the heavy sweetness of the drink.
“Cuddling? I wish,” I said, giving Eli a hopefully teasing look. “At least then I’d be warm. Nope, if anything, he’s been stealing my blanket.”
Which was a lie, but a white lie, and white lies were appropriate in certain situations. For example, in situations like this one.
“Uhm, excuse me?” Eli looked so indignant my insides clenched, and I just wanted to take my words back.
Had my answer not been funny?
