The Magic of Christmas

Chapter Eight - Gabe

Asking Averi to the Christmas dance is a stroke of pure genius.

I'm honestly surprised that she didn't come up with it herself, but if I'm being honest, she probably had no reason to.

What reasoning would she have to make Natalie upset?

I, on the other hand, keep a list.

It's numbered and alphabetized - of all the things she's done to upset me.

And anyway, Averi and I will have a good time together.

I never realized, when we first began talking, how close we would get, how much I would come to rely on her, but I don't know how I ever went to high school without her.

She's more than my tutor now.

She's my friend.

***

"You're not mad, are you?"

"No, Nick," I grunt as I lift the bar above my head, pushing up with everything I have, trying for a personal record, "Why would I be mad that you ditched your own date to ask my ex-girlfriend to the Christmas dance?"

"Well, when you put it that way-"

"I don't care," I interrupt, "Do what you want."

I only asked Nick to come over and spot me because Christian was busy. I would've considered lifting without a spot, but I decided against it, just in case my session didn't go like I wanted it to.

I did not, however, invite him over to talk about Natalie.

Although, I'm starting to think that, maybe, he should keep talking about her because every, single time he does, I get this magical boost of energy that propels me to keep pushing.

And not in a good way.

In a 'I'm so angry that I could probably bench-press a pick-up truck' kind of way.

Extreme, but you get my point.

"She still likes you, man."

"I don't care."

"And she's upset about the break-up."

"I don't care."

"You know that I'm not going to date her, right?"

"I don't care if you do, Nick. I already told you that."

"You just," he swipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, "You still seem upset."

"Why would I be? I have a date to the dance so it isn't as if I'm going alone."

"You have a date to the dance?"

Finally, my strength runs completely out and, sensing that, Nick takes the bar from my hands and sets it back on the rack.

I shimmy out from under it, squirting water out of my bottle and onto the top of my head. I shake my hair out before saying, "Yes, I have a date."

"Who?"

"Averi."

"Averi?" Nick wrinkles his nose, "Who's Averi?"

"Averi Griffin," I hold a hand at armpit height, "About this tall, long, blonde hair."

"Oh, Averi," Nick's mouth forms a perfect 'o' as the realization hits him, "Smart Averi."

I laugh, "Yeah, she's smart."

"You're really going to the dance with her?"

"Is there a problem?"