Winter Wonderland

ten: endgame

“Because we were great together.”

“But you were such a dick! Man, Liam, if it were me, I wouldn’t give you another chance.”

I glare at her. “Thanks, Kaylani. Luckily it isn’t you, girl I’ve known for a week who is weirdly comfortable being mean to me.”

“Now I get why you said it’s complicated. Thanks for sharing. I’ll expect weekly updates on the progress of this strange second chance.”

I shake my head at her and go back to my stew, contemplating cutting my lunch break short so I can get moving again and do something other than sit here with Kaylani’s judgement.

“In all seriousness,” she says after a few moments of quiet, “thanks for telling me the truth. That’s the first step towards a deep and meaningful friendship. And for what it’s worth”—not a ton, I think—“it sounds like you really love her. If you’d followed through with that disgusting contest then I’d be telling her to run as far and fast as possible, so you definitely could’ve been worse.” Her spoon clanks in her bowl, scraping up every last drop of gravy. “Sometimes good can come from bad, I guess. Like flowers in the sidewalk.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

Maybe Kaylani’s not that bad. She’s intense and annoying, sure. But maybe we will become friends. I could certainly do with more of those.

“Your turn,” I say. “I shared my drama. What’s yours?”

“Not applicable. I’m a drama-free zone, Liam. I enjoy collecting other people’s messes to make up for the extreme lack of my own.”

“Come on. You don’t have any awkward relationship stories? No exes you want to revisit?”

“Ew. No.” She wrinkles her nose. “My body is a temple. I don’t do relationships.”

“At all?”

“I’m aro-ace. It’s not for me.”

“Oh. Fair enough. Any family drama? Workplace drama? Friend drama?” I ask. “You gotta give me something, Kaylani. I just told you in mortifying detail about how much of an absolute dick I used to be; I need payment.”

She laughs, and it transforms her face from moody and serious to bright and joyful. “I’ll keep you posted, buddy. Nothing to report yet.”

“That is so not fair.”

She gives me a dramatic shrug. “What can I say? I like to observe the chaos, but I don’t invite it into my life.”

“And with that, I think my lunch is over. See you later.”

I have a couple minutes left, actually. But she salutes me as I deposit my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and I get back to work, counting down the hours until my shift is over and I can get the bus to Storie’s. She’s working until six thirty today, so I’m getting off at five so I can head back to mine to shower and change before I hop on the 22. I hate buses, but there’s a stop a block from my apartment that takes me to within three blocks of Storie’s, and it’s more convenient than trying to find parking downtown.

Five o’clock can’t come quick enough. At four, Kaylani called me over to Santa’s Grotto because a five-year-old got so overexcited about meeting Father Christmas that he puked everywhere, and apparently puke duty falls on the shoulders of the newest elf. It’s not like I can’t deal with puke – when you have six siblings, and you live in a party frat for two years, you get used to vomit – but there was something so degrading about trying to crouch down to clean up some crying kid’s barf while praying my tights didn’t rip, because the last thing I need right now is to be done for indecent exposure.