“Old,” she repeats, shaking her head. “Ha ha.”
“You’re what, twenty-one?”
“Twenty-three,” she says.
“I remember that… vaguely.”
“Look–Grinch has jokes now.”
When I smile, she gets this look in her eyes. Like she lives to make men like me smile.
I bite down so hard on a piece of turkey that I hit my fork.
No, notmen like me. Just me.
Fucking hell.
What am I thinking?
That’s my catchphrase when it comes to Celine. On a never-ending loop whenever I’m near her.What am I thinking, what am I thinking…
“Do you want me to take the decorations home?” she asks about halfway through the meal.
I’m a silent eater. Perhaps it’s a bad habit. I’ve been shoveling food into my mouth without even thinking about conversation.
Her voice is quiet. Withdrawn.
“No,” I tell her. “I’m going to put them back up.”
“Really?”
I nod. “Really.”
“But why?”
You look very upset. Too fragile. Too defeated.
“You’ve convinced me of the benefits of not being a miserable assallthe time.”
Her laugh is beautiful. It seems to take her off guard. She throws her head back and gives herself to the laughter. I watch her, a soft smile on my lips. She’s devastatingly beautiful, especially when her bun comes loose and messily spreads over her neck and face.
She adjusts it. “Then my work here isn’t a complete waste of time.”
“Nope. Just mostly.”
She giggles. “Jerk.”
“I can’t deny that. Want to help me with the decorations after we eat? Though… you’ve barely touched yours.”
“I ate right before I got here.”
“Ah.” I reach over, take her plate, then use my knife to push the food onto mine. “More for me. Sounds good.”
Another gorgeous giggle. “You’re an animal.”
“No denying that, either.”
I wolf the food down, then we step into the living room together. We talk a little as we hang the streamers and replace the ornaments. Just send each other looks. My dark soul twitches as I think about what it’d be like to be a proper human being.
