'tis the damn season

FIFTEEN

"You know this is where people come to make out, right?" Trixie asks as Katya drags her by the hand to the back of the church.

It isn't snowing, but the ground is covered in smooth snow, which creaks under Katya's weather-inappropriate sneakers and Trixie's delicate heeled boots. The wind doesn't cut through their faces like a knife but rather taps at their cheeks as if it were trying to wake them up. Their giggles are followed by the silence they didn't have inside of the church they snuck out of before either of their parents noticed.

"I'm not going to make out with you, Trixabelle, don't worry," Katya replies. It's the middle of the service, so there is no one else outside with them. It's them, two gift boxes, and dead bushes where once flowers used to live. "I'm an honorable lady."

They stop. Trixie shakes her head. "You're the furthest thing from honorable."

"Yeah, but you're not about to tell that to your mother, right?"

Their eyes are locked in each other. Katya's smirk has infected her whole expression. Trixie wants to look away, but her friend's face is magnetic and she can't rid herself of it. Half of her heart burns with want while the other half burns with a suffocating frustration that nearly makes it quit its pace. They have been here before too many times. Not behind the church, but stuck between clever one-liners, sneaky looks, and heavy palpitating hearts. Well, Trixie has. She holds back a sigh. Maybe Katya isn't there.

Before she can respond, Katya extends both her hands in her direction and wiggles her eyebrows. "Come on. We got business to do."

Trixie places her own box on the ground and takes Katya's. It is pink, flat, and it is decorated with a sad attempt at a red bow and some stickers. There isn't much rattling when she shakes it and it isn't heavy either. "Did you get me socks?"

"I would never," Katya says. "It's warm in Hollywood and when you're a big star you'll wear expensive heels all of the time."

Trixie grunts. "I bet that's going to be my least favorite part of being famous," she says. "Or maybe I'll be big enough to set a new trend of only wearing socks and sliders."

"Maybe that could happen by your third Grammy," Katya smiles.

"Maybe you could be my guinea pig. Just picture it: Trixie Mattel's best friend spotted wearing socks and sliders! Read it now in People Magazine!"

Katya seems to rethink her smile. It is now gone and has been replaced by a doe-eyed expression. Trixie recognizes it as anticipation. Putting an end to her friend's misery, she pulls the bow apart and removes the cardboard lid, revealing a cross-stitch of Peaches, surrounded by white flowers with the saying You peach of shit . Even if she wanted to hold back her smile, she wouldn't have been able to. Her cheeks sting with the pressure made by the corners of her lips pushing against them as she traces all of the details, feeling the thread taking the shapes of Peaches' nose and of the petals of the flowers around him.

"You made this all on your own?"

"My dad helped me draw it, but I did all of the stitching myself." Katya scratches the back of her head amidst a lip bite. "Did you like it?"

Trixie nods. "I loved it!" She wraps her arms around Katya and squeezes her forcefully into a hug, which the girl playfully tries to resist but gives in within the first second of Trixie touching her. "I loved it so much, it's the best gift anyone has ever given me!"

"Better than your Macbook?"

"Way better," Trixie exclaims, pulling away just in time to watch Katya's cheeks pinken. "Thank you so much, Kat. I really loved it."