“Yeah?”
“I’m fine, you know that, right? Nothing you did I didn’t want. I enjoyed every second.” The look on his face calms the feelings building inside of me.He’s okay.
“Okay, baby.”
“You did all of this,” he smirks, then looks around. “For me?”
“Yeah. Cinnamon rolls, bacon, eggs, and coffee. I would’ve heated up some tamales but… I figure we’ll save those for a snack before dinner tonight.”
He laughs into his mug. “Fair. You know, this feels a little too domestic.”
“Get used to it.” I grin, leaning back. “I’m a very domestic person.”
We eat slowly, trading lazy smiles across the table. Outside, the snow’s still falling, flakes drifting thick and heavy past the window. This is the kind of morning that makes you forget the rest of the world exists.
It’s just him and me.
Halfway through breakfast, I glance up from my plate. “So,” I say. “Do we FaceTime our parents before or after getting high?”
Caleb almost chokes on his coffee. “What kind of question is that?”
“A serious one. I need to plan my morning.”
He pretends to think, twirling his fork. “After. Definitely after. I don’t have the energy to deal with my dad’s guilt trip sober.”
“Good call.” I grab the little amber bottle from the counter and hold it up, shaking it. “Tincture or joint?”
He eyes it, then grins. “Tincture. Faster.”
I pour a dropperful under his tongue, then mine, and we both sit there, pretending not to count the seconds until it hits.
When it does, Caleb starts giggling first. “Okay, you can’t laugh,” he says, which immediately makes me laugh.
“Bro, I’m already laughing.” Grabbing my phone from the counter and ushering him to the couch, where we sit side by side. “Tuck that blanket up around your neck. Wouldn’t want them to see all those pretty marks I left you with.”
“You’re ruining it.” He hides his face in his hands, trying to get it together before I hit the FaceTime button.
The call connects. My mom answers first, her face bright and soft, hair pulled up, holiday earrings jingling in her ears. Ashton’s in the background with his coffee, already looking like he’s halfway done with his patience for the day.
“¡Feliz Navidad, mis amores!”Celeste beams. “You look so handsome! Look at you two!”
“Hey, Mom,” I say, trying not to sound high. “Merry Christmas.”
Caleb waves. “Merry Christmas, Celeste. Hey, Dad.”
Dad squints at the screen. “Why do you sound like you’re in slow motion?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Bad Wi-Fi.”
Caleb snorts, trying to play it off as a cough.
Celeste’s too busy talking over us to notice. “Did you open presents yet? Eat breakfast? I made buñuelos and champurrado,hopefully next year, you’ll both be home to have some and I’ll even make extra for you to take back to the dorms, Caleb.”
“We ate,” Caleb says, straight-faced except for the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Miggy made cinnamon rolls.”
Celeste gasps. “He did?¡Ay, qué lindo!Did he remember the frosting this time?”
Caleb’s shoulders shake. “He did, yeah.Extrafrosting.”
