Page 340 of Seasons of Love
“What was she like?”
“She’s not dead,” he says, laughing.
“You know what I mean.”
He looks up at the ceiling. “She is beautiful, funny, strong-willed, and my parents love her.”
“Can I ask what happened?”
Riley looks at me. “She lied about something unforgivable.”
He doesn’t say anything else. I’m curious, but I don’t think it’s the right time to ask. It may never be. It’s in the past, after all, and if he asked me about Harley, I think I’d feel the same way.
I turn his head to face me and kiss him.
He tastes minty fresh and like my coach. This kiss is different. I don’t know how I can tell, but I feel it.
When we part, I keep my eyes closed and bring up a memory of my grandmother when she was still healthy, cooking my favorite meal.
I still miss her so much, but with Coach by my side, it doesn’t feel so bad.
I’m just scared of what will happen when Christmas is over and the bubble bursts.
25
COACH
When I wake up, I immediately know I’m alone because I’m cold, even with the covers over me. I rub my eyes and get up, putting on a pair of joggers, forgoing underwear.
There’s a chill in the air, so I pick a warmer sweater. I look through the window and see a thicker layer of snow.
I don’t need to guess where Bubble is because the cabin is small enough that there’s only one possibility. That and I hear him curse like a sailor.
One quick trip to the bathroom, and I join the racket in the living room. It smells like Christmas has exploded in here. Cinnamon, spice, and all things nice.
“Freakin stale muffins and soggy breadsticks.”
I hear him, but I don’t see him until I get to the middle of the room and see his ass up in the air while he’s halfway inside my fireplace.
He’s wearing green tights, and whatever is over it has ridden up to give me a nice view of his shapely thighs and small but round bubble butt.
I clear my throat.
“Crumbs,” he groans as he hits his head on the top of the fireplace. “Ouch.”
I wince, hoping it didn’t hurt because I didn’t mean to scare him.
When he turns around to face me, I bite back a laugh. Bubble is wearing a long green sweater with a red Santa hat with a fluffy rim and tip. His face is covered in soot and ash, and he doesn’t look happy.
“Did I catch you at a bad time, Santa?” I ask.
That gains me a smile, so I cross the space between us and start rubbing some of the soot from his cheek.
“Not at all. I was just checking if you were a good boy this year,” he says, his hands snaking around my waist but landing on my butt.
“What do you think?”
He bites his lip and pretends to think for a moment. “I think you tried really hard to be good, but ultimately you gave in to temptation. I’m afraid you get a piece of coal in your sock.”
