I can feel my upper lip curl. “He better not get drafted by the Reds. I really don’t want to root against them.”
It wasn’t my intention to be funny, but Jules laughs. “The Pirates?”
My sneer turns into a smirk. “Yeah. The Pirates. Then I can openly hate him.”
Jules laughs again, and things seem a little bit lighter. “I don’t want you to hate him,” she whispers.
“I know.”
“Anyone order food?” Mason asks, poking his head in and holding out two overstuffed bags of greasy burgers and cheese fries.
Jules perks up at the sight of him. “My hero.” She gives my hand another squeeze and pats the bed on her other side.
Mason carefully places the bags on my nightstand and meets Jules for a hug. She easily melts into him. He holds on to her until she’s the first to let go, and he wordlessly crawls in the vacant spot beside her.
Once we lay out the food, he snags a few fries but otherwise doesn’t eat anything. Instead, he pulls a premade smoothie type drink from God knows where and produces two of my mom’s White Claws for me and Jules. I start to ask if Mom knows he swiped them, but his wink tells me she doesn’t.
We finish eating as the movie ends, and Jules lets out a defeated sigh. “Boys are so lame.”
Mason slips his arm around her shoulders. “They really are,” hesays seriously. Jules smiles and leans into him. “Plus, they smell bad and do weird things like use a shampoo and conditioner blend as body wash.”
Jules snorts out a laugh, which only makes us all laugh, and soon enough, she’s finally wearing a genuine smile. And just like that, my brother has seemed to patch up a small part of Jules’s heart. It makes me even more grateful that his is still beating.
Chapter Seven
Julia
With Christmas Eve dinner eaten and Alex and me in our pajamas, we settle under the covers of Alex’s bed and press in close, ready to start our favorite holiday tradition: watchingAlienand eating way too many cookies. It’s been our Christmas routine since we were nine years old.
Alex sets up her laptop, the movie all cued and ready to go. “So we’ll pause and grab more snacks right before Kane dies. Because I really want to eat one of those manger-shaped sugar cookies your mom brought over while everyone is freaking out over the chestburster.”
“You are so weird.” She shoots me a sideways smile and starts the movie. My hand covers hers, stopping her, and she gives me a questioning look. “Before we hit play…” I reach under the bed and grab the carefully wrapped square gift I hid there earlier and hand it to her. “I know we usually do gifts after the movie, but I can’t wait any longer. Merry Christmas.”
Alex eyes the package curiously but doesn’t question the slight change of timeline. I bounce a little and readjust so I can watch her. It’s been absolute hell waiting to give this to her. If this is what people go through before they propose, I don’t envy them. I’ve been sitting on this gift for three months and slowly going crazy.
Once the paper is ripped off, Alex peers inside the glass box at the ball placed carefully within. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t say anything, just stares. Her eyes seem to sparkle underneath the twinkle lights she strung across her headboard. A few beats pass in silence, andwhen she still doesn’t react, I shift nervously, wondering if she can make out the signature. “It’s signed by—”
“Johnny Bench?” she asks the same time her gaze snaps to meet mine. “How? Is this…is this real?” Her voice is loud, her tone disbelieving. I relax, relieved, and nod. “He touched this? Jules, I…How?”
Laughter bubbles in my throat. “Open it and look at the back.”
The ball has shifted a little in transit, and the blue ballpoint autograph now faces upward, which means the back of the ball is facing the one side that isn’t transparent. Instead of removing the glass top, Alex frantically looks around. “Gloves. I need gloves. I don’t want to ruin this with my oily fingers.” After realizing she doesn’t have any gloves in her room, she decides to stick her hand under her shirt and uses that to remove the glass top and gently roll the ball over. “To Alex?” She squeals and looks at me again. “He knows my name?”
I bite my lower lip, trying hard not to laugh but unable to stop my smile.
Alex shoots to her knees, knocking her laptop to the side of her bed and causing the ball to fall off the stand. She quickly snags it, momentarily forgetting about not wearing gloves, and stares at her name written in large swooping letters. “Holy shit.” She looks at me, the reality of having an autograph from her favorite player finally sinking in, and holds it for me to see. “Holy shit!” She throws her arms around me in an excited hug. “This is the greatest present I’ve ever gotten.”
This time, Idolaugh. “I’m glad you like it.”
“But seriously,” she says, staring again at the ball. “How did you get this?”
Something twists in my chest, and I do my best not to let my smile reflect the quick burst of sadness that hits. “Tyler’s roommate’s uncle lives near him. Or something like that.”
Alex’s smile falters, and she focuses on me. “Jules.”
I wave my hand, dismissing her concern. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine. He helped me get it back in September.” She hesitates. “Please don’t let that ruin the gift. Tyler and I are friends. Or, well, trying to be. We’re good. I promise.” I put my hand on her leg and squeeze.
The truth is, Tyler and I really have been trying. Slowly. We don’t talk every day like we used to or even every other day. But we check inwith each other a couple times a week. What started as awkward small talk has turned into genuine curiosity, and it’s been good. And weirdly, it’s also helped me to move on. Knowing that we’re capable of being friends instead of giving up entirely.
