I watch as Phoebe works on finishing her makeup in front of the mirror, and then she grabs two sweaters out of the small closet, handing one to me, and tossing the other on the bed. When our fingers accidentally graze each other, I feel the same electric shock that I’ve always felt around her. All I want to do is get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness. Beg her to take me back and let me hold her, kiss her, share my life with her.
Her eyes are hooded when they meet mine, and I wonder if she feels the same pang of desire that I’m feeling for her at this moment. Her blazing red hair curls wildly around her face, and the green eyeshadow she’s used makes her eyes pop even brighter than usual. Her deep burgundy lipstick gives her a mysteriously sexy and haunted sort of look, and my insides ache to be nearer to her. To be able to touch her...to hear those lips screaming my name again as she comes around my fingers.
I feel myself straining in my jeans and I mentally chastise myself, forcing myself to stop thinking about her naked, and instead helping her get ready for the next task.
“Can you help me get this around my head without ruining my hair too much?” Phoebe asks, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to the present. “I should have put it on first, but it’s so freaking hot in this house today with Mom and Kevin cooking nonstop.”
I take the mess of green sequined fabric and carefully navigate it over her curls and pull it away from her face so her makeup doesn’t get smeared. Once it’s fully on, she turns and gives me a shy smile while she runs her hands down the front of the sweater, fixing errant sequins and patting them back into place. She looks like some sort of mermaid, with her red hair and seductive red lips…maybe she’s a siren after my own heart.
“Are you supposed to be a mermaid?” I ask skeptically.
She shakes her head and laughs. “Nope, but let's get yours on and then maybe you’ll understand.” Phoebe picks up the gray sweater she threw on the bed, and I notice it has what looks like stones glued all over it.
“Shirt off, Spencer.” She says playfully.
I shrug my jacket off, and then pull the black v-neck I’m wearing over my head, tossing them both onto her bed. I reach my hand out to grab the sweater from Phoebe, but she seems to be frozen in place…while staring at my bare chest. I smirk at her as I take a step closer, grabbing my sweater out of her hand and pulling it over my head.
It’s like wearing a weighted vest. A bulky, stone covered, weighted vest.
I turn to look at myself in the small vanity mirror, when I notice Phoebe reaching into the closet again. She pulls on some sort of headpiece that has sticks protruding in every which direction. Turning around, I notice that they aren't sticks at all…they’re golden plastic snakes.
“Phoebe…” I say incredulously. “Did you turn yourself into Medusa…so that I could be the poor soul you turned into stone with your unearthly beauty?” I raise an eyebrow at her, looking at her sweater and then down at mine. She covers her mouth with her hands and silently laughs while nodding her head yes to my question.
I can’t believe this woman…and I don’t think I’ve loved her more than I do at this moment. This hilarious over the top ‘I’m pissed at you Spencer’ gesture. It’s amazing, really. If these sweaters don’t win, then our parents must have zero sense of humor.
But even if we don’t win, I still feel like the biggest winner for getting her riled up enough to do something this epic. Phoebe has always won the ugly sweater contest, and it’s because she has always treated it like a costume contest, whereas everyone else has just gone and bought the most ridiculous sweater at the Walmart or one of the other chain stores we have in Noelsville. Phoebe, though, has always handmade her own, and she really outdid herself this time.
Phoebe tells me it’s time to go downstairs to help set up for the party, and before she does she pauses at the door and hisses at me. Actually hissesatme.
My wicked little Medusa has jokes, now I need to find something to make her laugh as hard as I am over being turned to stone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Phoebe
“Isthereauniversein existence that would allow me to just turn my heart off? Because if there is, I would like to go there for Christmas,” I say to Piper as I take a sip of my second spiked eggnog. We make jokes that eggnog is for the oldies, but the more I drink it, the more the taste is growing on me. Maybe it’s because I’ve eaten nothing today for a couple of strips of Kevin’s crispy bacon, or the fact that I’m feeling just a tad bit tipsy…whatever the reason, I cannot keep my traitorous eyes off of my sexy stone-man.
Well, notmysexy stone-man.
But he could be…if I could just fly to that magic universe and turn off the feelings of self-doubt and uneasiness that have flooded through my veins ever since our ‘fight’. Why can’t I just trust him when he says he wants me? Not Piper,me.
Spencer saunters over to us and hands us both a plate of honey smoked ham, with mashed potatoes and two deviled eggs on the side for me. I’m so hungry, I could kiss him. And I secretly love that he knows that deviled eggs are my favorite holiday food on this planet. I could eat an entire tupperware full of them and it still wouldn’t be enough to satisfy me.
I shove a whole one into my mouth and mumble ‘thank you’ through my overly full mouth. He and Piper both burst out into laughter at me, and that just makes my egg-filled smile even bigger. It’s like having an orange slice in your month, except mine is all egg.
“Dude, you're disgusting!” Piper howls loudly. “Thank goodness you found a guy that’s willingly to kiss you, because barf,” she jokes.
Spencer and I make eye contact, and I feel the red hot blaze of a blush rush to my cheeks. I hold back a smile when I see Spencer’s cheeks turn a little rosy as well.
“Why hello to my two favorite humans in this tiny town of Noelsville. How’s the make-up session going?” Kevin puts his arms heavily around Spencer and myself. I can smell the rum on his breath and can tell he’s on the not-so-fun side of drunk by the way his hand keeps twitching on my shoulder. Some people get red cheeks, some get over talkative. Kevin gets twitchy.
Spencer claps Kevin loudly on his back. “I can see your sabotaging is working just perfectly,” Spencer laughs and we all look over as he points at Phil who is standing in the food line. His ugly sweater is down right ugly, in the wrong way. It’s neon orange, and it looks like they’ve glued some sort of tinsel around his chest.
“What is that sweater supposed to be?” Piper finally asks after we all stare at it for a beat.
Spencer and Kevin both start laughing like they are in on some joke that the rest of us aren’t privy to. Kevin clears his throat and grips my shoulder tighter, pulling me closer to him. “Well Meduuuussaa,” he drags out. “We turned dear Phillip into Ms. Tinsel Tits. Can’t you tell?”
Piper throws her hand over her mouth, holding in what I’m sure is another bout of ugly laughter. “How did you talk him into that?”
