Winter Wonderland

ten: endgame

*

Kaylani won’t stop bugging me. I got to work at eight this morning, after spending all of Sunday floating on cloud nine once Storie and I parted ways after lunch with my family. She had to get back, so I hung out with my family for a few hours and answered their myriad of questions, and I promised Daria that she’ll see Storie again; Dad drove me back to my apartment, and I didn’t care about the cold. Instead, I treated myself to a hot chocolate from the café down the block, and I bought a pack of Christmas cards.

I don’t usually write them. But yesterday, while my uniform was spinning in the dryer and I sat next to it for the heat, I wrote a card to each member of Storie’s family. Her and Kris and Grey; her mom and her stepdad; even her little brother Jasper and her step-sister-in-law, Navya. They’re all named and sealed, waiting for Wednesday.

I can’t believe it’s only two days away. Two days until I work a shorter shift and I get into Storie’s passenger seat for the hour’s drive to Five Oaks, and I see her family for the first time in four years. Part of me is sick with nerves, but a much bigger part is just so fucking grateful and desperately in love.

And Kaylani can smell it. She’s a bloodhound. The moment I stepped into the office to swap my coat for an elf robe, she pounced, pestering me with questions about complicated girl and like a dog with a bone, it’s hard to shake her off. I’ve done a decent job of avoiding her for the past few hours, but there’s nowhere to hide on my lunch break as I dig into free stew. Honestly, this job may be under-stimulating and I may have to wear the most hideous outfit, but I can’t complain about the free food and the under-the-table cash in hand.

“Come on, Liam,” Kaylani says, sliding onto the bench opposite me, a thick dollop of stew slopping over the side of her bowl. “Take pity on me. I’m here, doing this, like fifty hours a week. I’m tired and bored and all my friends have gone to LA and New York and Austin, so please humor me.” Her dark eyes search me, her mouth set in a severe line. “You’re the closest thing I have to a friend.”

“That’s really sad, Kaylani,” I say. “This is only my sixth day here.”

“I’m well aware of how tragic it is.” She sits with one foot on the bench, her arm wrapped around her knee. “But I’ve latched onto your love story and I need updates to keep me sane. So please. Tell me. How’s it going with complicated girl? You haven’t even told me her name yet. Or why it’s complicated,” she says through a mouthful.

“Her name’s Storie,” I say, relenting at last when the stew warms me from the inside out – and, yeah, I pity Kaylani a bit. “It’s complicated because we dated in college and I broke her heart because I was a total jerk, but now we’re giving it another go.”

Her eyebrows dance. “Spill the juice,” she says. “What’d you do? How much of a jerk?”

I sigh.

And I tell her the whole story.

When I say the whole story, I mean it. I don’t try to brush over what I did; I don’t try to make myself sound good; I don’t try to justify myself. I just tell her the straight facts. Her wince becomes a grimace and by the end of the tale, she’s shaking her head.

“Damn, Liam. Dude. That’s bad.”

“I know.”

“No offence but, like, why does she wanna give you a second chance?” She slathers a piece of bread in butter and dips it in her bowl.