Page 5

CHAPTER 5

CHRISTINE

F or the last couple of days, I’ve been able to shut myself in my new room under the guise of unpacking, which I finished our first night here. I’ve still had to attend our “family” meals, but my time alone has been productive. I’ve read the first two books in a series I’ve wanted to dive into, and started a new knitting project.

“Christine.” My mom says my name, calling my attention to her.

“What?”

“I’ve set out the boxes of ornaments in the living room. After dinner, I’d like you to decorate the tree.”

“Are you sick?” I ask.

“No, why?”

“You always insist on hanging the ornaments yourself.”

“That’s true, but this year I’d like you to handle it.”

“I was planning on finishing up my unpacking.”

She purses her lips and arches an eyebrow, as if to say really ? “I know you were unpacked the first night we were here. Bert added the lights earlier, so all that’s left is hanging the ornaments.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Griffin will help,” Bert adds.

My stepbrother shakes his head. “Sorry, but today’s practice kicked my ass and I’m heading to bed early.”

“Son, it’ll only take a few minutes, and Christine can’t reach the upper branches.”

I push my chair back and rise, collecting my plate and utensils. “I’m done eating, so I might as well get started.” I move to the sink and rinse everything. As soon as I’m done loading them in the dishwasher, I move on to the living room area of the large, open floor plan. I stare up at the tree and shake my head. Decorating this bad boy seems like an insurmountable task. I’m about to place the first ornament when Griffin appears beside me, sucking the oxygen from the space.

“Want to see how fast we can decorate this thing?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

His brown eyes twinkle with mischief. “Let’s time ourselves and see how long it takes.”

It could be fun. And it’ll help us get it over with as quickly as possible.

“I like that idea,” I say, then lean closer and lower my voice. “My mom is completely anal about ornament spacing, though.”

His head tips in a brief nod. “And she can adjust them once we’re done, right?”

My eyes flash wider and I grin. “Right.”

“Let’s place a wager on this. Give me your best guess at how long you think it will take us, and I’ll do the same. Whoever is closest wins.”

“What are we betting?” I ask.

He mulls it over for a few seconds. “If I win, you bake me chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting. And if you win…”

“You have to read a book I recommend.”

He nods. “Sounds relatively painless.”

I snicker. “Depends on which one I choose.”

“What’s your guess for the time?” he asks.

I study the tree before answering. “Ten minutes.”

“I think we can get it done in seven minutes,” he tells me.

My eyes open wide. “Seven? That seems fast.”

“We haven’t even begun and you’re already doubting us?”

“Not you as much as myself. I know my lack of athletic ability,” I explain.

“We’re hanging ornaments, not jumping hurdles. You’ve got this.”

I appreciate his vote of confidence. Especially when he doesn’t really know me.

He tugs his phone from his pocket and taps the screen a few times. “Okay. You get the bottom section and I’ll do as far up as possible. We can figure out the top when we get there.”

“Sounds good.”

He sets his phone on the coffee table. “On your mark, get set, go!” He taps the screen, starting the timer.

I hang the ornament in my hand, then grab a few more and hook them onto the lowest branches. I keep moving, steadily making my way around the tree. But I’m not concerned with the rear being covered as much since it’s tucked against the bookcase.

Griffin hangs the decorations so fast, his arms are practically a blur. Being a professional athlete clearly gives him an advantage over me. The fact that he stands at six foot two inches—an entire foot taller than me—doesn’t hurt.

I do my best to keep up, hanging red, green, and silver glass balls willy-nilly while Griffin moves up to the top section. My competitive spirit kicks in, and I have to remind myself we’re in this together with the clock as our main opponent. I don’t mind making cupcakes, but the thought of him reading one of my favorite books is hilarious.

After a while, I wish I had chosen a thinner tree. This one takes a long time to make it all the way around. I finish the lower section just as he finishes the middle.

“Get on my shoulders so you can do the very top,” he tells me.

“No. I’ll grab a chair.”

He shakes his head. “There’s no time. He slips behind me, and the next thing I know, his hands grip my waist, lifting me in the air. He places me on his shoulders like I’m a child, then grabs a box of ornaments, balancing it on his head.

I force myself to grab decorations without considering their shape, size, or color, and rapidly hang them on as many branches as possible instead of thinking about my vagina being pressed against the back of his neck. Griffin navigates his way around the tree without unseating me, but I lose my balance at one point, gripping on to both sides of his head. His hair is softer than I imagined, and I have to remind myself to let go and finish the task. When I hook the final ornament, Griffin sets me on my feet. Tapping his phone screen, he stops the timer and turns to high-five me. His palm meets mine with a resounding slap that has me shaking my stinging hand.

“Guess how long it took us.”

I glance up at the ceiling as I formulate my best estimate. It didn’t feel like it took as much time as my initial guess. “Eight minutes?”

“That’s a good guess but you’re over. Try again.”

“Seven minutes?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “You’re still too high. It was six minutes and thirty-two seconds.”

I grin. “Wow. We kicked ass.”

“We did, and made it challenging and fun,” he says.

“You mean, you did,” I correct. “Maybe when your football career is finished you should be a gym teacher.”

He laughs. “I like animals better than kids.”

My eyebrows rise at his surprising reply. “They both have something to offer.”

“When do you want to bake my cupcakes?” he asks with a teasing grin.

I shrug. “Whenever you want.”

“I’ll let you know,” he says before walking off.

I watch him until he disappears. He doesn’t seem as bad as I originally thought. Maybe my time here will go smoother than I imagined.

Shivering, I tighten the fleece blanket wrapped around my lower body and make sure my winter jacket is zipped all the way. This is my first experience attending a professional football game, and so far I’m not finding much to like. It’s freaking freezing, and the seat is hard under my ass. Not even watching the prime physical specimens on the field warmed me up. I finally gave in fifteen minutes ago and pulled up my Kindle app on my phone. I was able to get through the next chapter in my current read.

My mom clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Christine, for goodness’ sake, put that away and watch the game.” She makes that universal annoyed mom face that says she means business.

I do as she says, considering myself lucky to have gotten away with it for as long as I did.

“Here, this will help.” She hands me a cup of steaming hot chocolate, and I sigh with relief as I hold it between my hands.

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

She smiles and returns to chatting with Bert about the game. I sip on the sweet beverage while my thoughts wander to Nelson. He texted me earlier, and I told him I was attending the game. He thought I was joking and requested proof. I can’t blame him—I’ve never been a sports fan. Unless reading is considered a sport.

The crowd roars, and I look around to see what’s happening. One of the Silverbacks players is sprinting down the field with the ball tucked under his arm. I notice the number nineteen on his jersey, and realize it’s Griffin. Watching him avoid the opposing players looks like something from a supernatural movie. Just when I think he’s about to be taken down, he miraculously shakes himself free and runs a few feet more. Along with my mom and stepdad, I suck in a breath and will him to keep moving. He gets bowled over by a giant of a defender right around the white line with the large ten. I gasp as they both slam to the ground, and I’m surprised and relieved when they stand up. Griffin shakes off the pain as his teammates huddle up around him.

As the teams line up for the next play, I lean forward in my seat. I may not be up on all the rules of football but I know the object is to cross into the end zone with possession of the ball, and right now they’re not far from doing that.

“Come on, fellas,” Bert mutters.

The ball’s snapped to the quarterback. Turning, he runs two steps before handing the ball off to another player who’s tackled just shy of the end zone.

“So close,” my mom squeals.

“Run it in,” Bert says.

My heart races behind my ribcage as I’m caught up in the feeling of anticipation shrouding the stadium. My knee nervously bounces as I wait for the next play to start. I hear the quarterback shouting but can’t distinguish what he’s saying. I watch Griffin as the ball is snapped. He races toward the end zone and is positioned perfectly for the pass that gets thrown. I hold my breath until the football lands safely in his arms. I jump to my feet along with most of the fans. Bert pulls my mom into his arms to celebrate, and when they part, she turns to hug me.

“What do you think of your first football game, sweetie?” she asks.

“At first I wasn’t sure, but now it’s getting better.” Mostly because of Griffin.

The rest of the game passes in an excited blur. Every time the Silverbacks score, their opponents come back and put points on the board. It seems like they’ll never get the advantage but they finally do in the last quarter. When the clock runs down to zero, Griffin’s team gets the victory. The stadium erupts with celebration. The fans cheer so loudly, I feel the vibration in my chest like I’m at a rock concert. Bert and my mom hug and then turn to me.

“Did you have fun?” my stepfather asks.

I nod. “Surprisingly, I did. Mom, will you take a picture of me? Nelson wants proof that I’m here.

“Sure.” She takes the phone from me, and I pose with the field at my back.

“Thank you,” I say as she hands it back over. I pull up the picture and send it to Nelson.

Me: I told you so.

Nelson: If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it. Are you a football lover now?

Me: Not a lover, more like a tolerator.

Nelson: I’m a little jealous right now.

Me: You told me to try new things. Does this count?

Nelson: Hell yeah. I can’t wait to see how you top this.

Me: Don’t get your hopes up.

I have a feeling once Mom and Bert return to North Carolina, my social life will take a nosedive. And I won’t mind one bit.