Noah handed him a coil of lights. “We’ll start with the entrance. Make it welcoming, not blinding. Unless you have strong opinions about blinding.”
“I’m anti-blinding. Pro-twinkly though.”
“Excellent. You’ll fit right in.”
Eli took the lights and their fingers brushed, just a brief touch, but it shot straight up his arm.
Noah didn’t show any sign of noticing.
Eli was feelingeverything.
It’s fine. You’re a grown adult. You can stand next to your old teenage fantasy without combusting.
He hoped.
“Morning, heathens!” A woman hurried into the hall, wearing jeans and a paint-spattered sweater, a tote bag full of construction paper slung over her shoulder. In one hand she held a travel mug.
Noah glanced across at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching children right now?”
“In twenty minutes,” she said breezily. “I’m dropping off the lantern wire and also checking to make sure you haven’t electrocuted yourself yet.” Her eyes landed immediately on Eli. “Ohhh. The bakery brother. You’re cuter than I remember. Mindyou, the last time I saw you, I think you were about fifteen, sixteen.”
Eli blinked. “Do I know you?”
She grinned. “I’m Elsie Moran. I was in your sister Aileen’s class in high school. Not that I’d expect you to remember me.” She glanced at Noah. “You have good taste.”
“Elsie,” Noah groaned.
Elsie smirked. “I’d love to stay and tease you both for the full legally allotted time, but kindergarten finger painting waits for no one.” She pressed a roll of wire into Noah’s hands. “Don’t burn the place down.” Then she returned her attention to Eli. “If he trips over an extension cord, pretend it looked intentional.”
And then she breezed out before either of them could get a word in.
Noah stared after her. “And on that note…” He pointed to the front entrance. “Work time. Keep your jacket on. It’s cold out there.”
They worked side by side, looping warm lights along the doorway, thankfully out of the wind. Noah talked while they worked, an easy chatter filled with small-town gossip and infused with festival anecdotes that sounded like war stories.
“Last year’s light controller exploded,” Noah told him. “Right in the middle of Santa’s entrance.”
“Exploded?” Eli echoed.
“Popped. Smoked. Burped fire. Kids screamed. It was allveryfestive.”
“Were you this unfazed about it at the time?” Eli asked.
“I’ve accepted chaos as my co-worker,” Noah said with a shrug.
Their elbows brushed and their shoulders bumped as they passed hooks back and forth. Each contact was tiny, barely there, but Eli felt all of them. It wasn’t just attraction.
It was recognition now, too.
This was the older boy he’d drawn several times, capturing shadows and smiles he’d never actually seen up close. Now he was right here, close enough to touch, acting as though Eli was someone worth talking to.
Noah stepped back to assess the lights. “Higher?”
“An inch, maybe.”
Noah adjusted the strand. “Better?”
“Yeah,” Eli said. “Now it looks as if it’s floating.”
