Liquid Feels - Book 3 - DP Series - Complete

26. Hidden In the Layers

We've got four days to plan the best stinkin' Christmas Seth has ever had. My dad even makes the five-hour drive back home just so he can load up all our presents while Hope and my mom set out on one of their epic shopping sprees. I do not shop. People do not ask me to go shopping with them. That would be a massive mistake that would result in misery for all. So, without much convincing, I stay behind to 'babysit' Seth.

Watching Seth interact with his mom is strange. They're both so... stiff. I watch their unnatural gestures and reactions with mild amusement. Even a smile. Never does it reach their eyes. It's just a swift lift of the lips, almost painful-looking as if their faces are made of plastic and smiling is physically challenging.

"Ok, Ken," I mumble, "I think it's time for some cookie making."

"Ken?"

"Just roll with it," I tell Seth and then turn to his mom. "Do you have any sugar, flour, eggs...?" My words falter as I squint toward the ceiling, trying to remember what other kinds of ingredients go in cookies.

"Naw," she says, tucking a wiry strand of hair behind her ear.

"Well, shoot." I mutter something under my breath that even I don't understand.

"I can grab what we need," Seth offers, standing and heading for the door. We had all been sitting in the living room, painfully conversing, so I know Seth is taking this opportunity to escape. There is no way I'm getting left behind.

"Great!" I slap my thighs as I stand, hurrying to the coat rack to bundle up. "I'll join you."

Seth's eyes glimmer with amusement, a knowing smile on his lips as he nods once. Opening the door, he motions with his head for me to go first and we step out into the bitter cold. I stop at the bottom of the porch steps, making a small circle as my eyes search for his mom's car.

"Up for a walk?" Seth asks from behind me, and before I can turn around, I feel his arm slide around my waist. A glow of warmth radiates from my stomach and into the patch of skin beneath his hand. Even with all the layers between us, I'm excessively aware of just how detrimental his touch can be to my little heart. It's pounding in my chest as I nod, my brain too jumbled to string a thought into words.

He doesn't remove his hand from my waist until we reach the end of the walkway. By then, I'm barely functioning due to the immense amount of energy it's requiring for me to remain calm. I feel like an imbecile. Who loses their walking capabilities just because of someone's touch? Whose brain malfunctions at the sound of a laugh? Whose tongue turns into a slug when a certain boy asks her if she's cold?

Mercy Nicholson. That's who.

I'm a complete bimbo the entire walk to the grocery store. My sentences might as well be a different language, and I'm sure a toddler could teach me a thing or two about proper walking technique. Why is my own body betraying me in such a radical, embarrassing way?

"Mercy?" Seth says, his voice gravelly and deeper than normal. He clears his throat. "You okay?"

"That's a trick question, right?" I ask, laughing at myself. Then I scratch at my head. "Have you honestly ever thought I was okay?"

"True," he agrees, nodding his head and sliding his hands into his pockets. "You're definitely not okay. You're so much more than that."

I stop dead in my tracks. Eyes wide and staring at Seth as he walks another two steps before realizing I'm not keeping up. Then he turns to face me, eyebrows quirked in question.

"What does that mean?" I ask, too curious to let that statement slide.

He cocks his head to the side and then runs a thumb along his eyebrow, analyzing me with his inquisitive gaze. "You don't think much of yourself, do you?"