“Yes, and set up.”
“There’s enough security at the gate?”
“Exaggeratingly so.”
“How does the turnout look?”
Denis levels me with a look. “Go away.”
I laugh again. “Fine, but if you need anything?—”
“We’ll figure it out. Go away.”
Sighing, I turn. “Fine. Okay. I’m going.” I don’t head right back to my station, though. There are close to thirty teamsand a fuck ton of donated food. When we put out a general inquiry to local and state businesses explaining what we hoped to accomplish, as with everything this year, the response was overwhelmingly positive.
Part of me wonders if it’s because we’re a progressive school. We’re a glimpse of what the world could look like without hate and supporting everyone equally, regardless of gender, orientation, race, or anything else. We represent peace.
We open that peace up to the bigger community of Glensdale. While it was always a college town and they were proud of RDU, it wasn’t until Quin Stommer showed up and started putting together festivals that the college pride really took over. When the college started inviting the community to join us.
And now they’re almost foaming at the mouth to dosomethingwith the school. We’re careful not to over-ask the same companies repeatedly. We don’t want to be greedy, nor do we want to put others off with the idea that we don’t welcome their support too.
So yeah, we have a growing network of supportive companies that are reaching as far south as Sacramento. There are days when I just marvel at the things we’ve accomplished this year, and it's only Christmas.
Which reminds me. One of the twists we added to this event because it’s so close to the holiday, being held the first day of break, is that there has to be some item that is holiday themed, be it a drink, a dessert, a sweet treat of some kind, or even a traditional side dish (could be from their own personal traditions or a wider cultural tradition for a different holiday this time of year).
I stop at Lemon’s table before crossing the wide aisle to my own.
“Spy! Spy!” Peyton calls out, using his big body to block my view. Not that anything is out yet. We’re not allowed to begin until told. There are people watching!
Lemon shoves him aside. “Help them. I’ll handle the spy.”
Peyton gives me a narrow-eyed look before turning away as Lemon walks out. “You’re going to make him paranoid.” His hand rests on the middle of my chest. I wonder if he can feel the way my heart races when he touches me.
With my hands on either side of his neck, I press my lips to his until I feel him sag into me. “Good luck,” I murmur. “I’m really glad you decided to participate.”
He grins, his eyes fluttering.
“You’re going to render him brain-melty. That’s sabotage,” Peyton yells from his station.
Lemon sighs. I smirk. “Good luck too,” he says.
“I have a surprise for you later tonight. Make sure you’re home after this.”
His smile widens. “I plan to be.”
I kiss him again because I simply can’t help it and then let him go. “Good luck, boys. I can’t wait to taste.”
“Wanna promise a tradesies?” Peyton asks with hopeful eyes. “Plate for a plate?”
“Yes. Definitely. Don’t forget the Christmas extra.”
“Not a chance,” he says, smiling. They wave and I return to my booth. Beside us are three of my hockey boys—Hakeem, Seth, and Braxton. On the other side are some of Alka’s boys—four of them, though I don’t know their names.
“Okay, two things,” I say as I join them. “One, I set up a trade with Lemon’s team. Plate for a plate.”
“Hell yeah. I was wondering how we were going to manage food,” Declan cheers.
“I’ll check with Tim,” Roux adds, nodding toward the soccer team to our right. “I bet we can trade there, too.”
