Chapter Fifty-Five-2

"Good. Fine," he responds, the corner of his lip quirking up. He rests his cheek on my knee, looking up through his long lashes. "How are you really?" he whispers. I sigh. Keeping up an appearance is harder than being honest. "Tired." "Everything okay?" I take my hand and run it through Daniel's hair. His hair is dark and soft and wet from the snow. Running my fingers through it calms me. "My mom.... She's not going to get better." Daniel reaches for the hand in his hair and takes it in his own, rubbing his thumb back and forth across my fingers. He kisses my hand briefly. "You are going to be all right." Because I know where this talk leads and the unnecessary emotion that I do not have to deal with, I decide to change the topic. "You want some of my hot chocolate? It's still warm." He holds my stare for five long seconds, his face serious and worried. And then in the blink of an eye, the grin is back as if he understands this is my coping mechanism, and takes the drink. He throws his head back, finishing whatever was left in my cup. "Delicious." "Hey!" I say, fake-angry. "I said 'some' not all!" Daniel continues smiling. His hands reach up and tickle my stomach. I jump, yelping. "Really now?" I grab his collar, pulling him close before he can make a move again. "Listen to me," I whisper, dangerously threatening, "and listen to me good, Boner Boy." His eyes widen and the blush that never gets old reappears on his cheeks. "That's right. Before you lay your hands of death, let's assert who has the upper hand always. Me. That's right, me. Taste the fear." He pouts, the red slowly diffusing from his face. "You suck." I kiss his pout. "Tell me about it." "Forget speaking, come here," he says, voice low. His hands snake up to the back of my head, fingers woven in my hair as he pulls me closer. Our lips touch and then quickly enough, it becomes hot and passionate. My hands loosen on his collar and I just hold his face, holding onto the back of his soft hair. I tilt my head, wanting more, pushing for more. "Ow!" Daniel cries when my forehead shoves his glasses too close to his eyes. I move away, looking at the flustered mess he is as he fixes his glasses and collar. He is my best method to take my mind off of things. "Oops," I say, an accomplished smile crawling onto my face. We both look up to see Tanner and Giselle staring with surprised but disgusted faces. They look at each other and then back at us. "Get a room, geeks," Tanner says, slyly throwing an arm on the part of the chair that holds Giselle. Nice one, Tanner.... "Yeah," she agrees, laughing. "That was a mess to look at." Daniel and I ignore them. "Fine," he says. "Let's just sit somewhere else." I look at Giselle and the hint of panic that crosses her face. She and Tanner have been denying their feelings and what not. But the whole world can tell. "You're right," I add. I smirk at Giselle. Revenge is sweet. "Enjoy each other's company." "Ivory—" Daniel and I find a small couch by the corner window before they can intervene. The snow is a bit heavier outside now, more constant and hitting the ground faster. "So," I start, "I have a favor to ask." He's wiping his glasses, using his shirt to clear the fog and melted snow. His hair looks like a disaster and he looks so tired with dark circles underneath his eyes, but still, he's handsome. "Yeah?" "I need you to be my date for a party." An eyebrow raises but he doesn't look up. "Okay? Sure? What for?" "It's for Lee Richardson's birthday party." Daniel's head snaps up, his mouth agape. "What? You got invited to that?" "Yes, don't ask how," I say. "Just...do you want to?" He grins. "It's a date then." And a second too late, I realize this might all be a mistake. When Christmas comes, it feels strange. Every single year on Christmas, Mom and I would go shopping together. We would split up at a store, secretly picking gifts for each other, buying them in separate checkouts, and then waiting till Christmas day to open them. Our presents would be very predictable or boring. Scarves and mugs or clothes we never needed. But, we would do it anyway. Brent would go shopping separately and actually practice the event of Christmas right, but my mother and I continued with our weird tradition. This year, standing in the store alone with scarves and mugs in my cart feels weird. Checking out without looking over my shoulder to make sure Mom isn't there is weird. Walking to the parking lot by myself with no one to sing holiday songs is weird.