An equal opportunity eviscerator, Elena turns her baleful gaze on Layla. “You’re one to talk, Miss Squish Yourself Into a Corner and Say Nothing.”
Unperturbed, Layla shrugs. “I’m not really part of this group, and we all know it. I’m just along for the ride. No one here’s dying to see me.”
Elena jerks her head back, clearly affronted. “Excuse me? What am I, chopped liver?”
“Yeah,” I chime in. “We’re always happy to see you and the asshole you’re still dating for some unknown reason.”
“Hey!” Evan gripes. “May I remind you that you chose to live with me for years. So your taste is obviously no better than hers.”
Grinning, I wave a hand, dismissing his statement at face value. “Not the same at all. I’m not sleeping with you.” I make a show of looking him over. “You’re not at all my type.”
Elena smothers a laugh in my shoulder as Evan gapes at me, offended. “You wish,” he mumbles. “Maybe you’re not my type.”
Layla turns his face to hers. “Don’t let them mess with your head, babe,” she murmurs quietly. “I love you, and I wouldn’t give you back to him even if he wanted you.”
“That’s right you wouldn’t,” he grumbles back before kissing her.
“Hey!” Matt yells from behind us. “Quit sucking face on the couch. Hannah’s coming around with numbers for the order of the exchange.”
Hannah approaches each of us in turn, holding out a small red bucket covered in candy canes holding the numbered slips of paper. She takes the last slip for herself as she explains the rules of picking and stealing. “Alright, who’s number one?”
Layla scoots forward on the couch, holding up her hand. “I am.”
Evan slaps her ass as she stands, and she tosses a glare at him over her shoulder before approaching the tree and selecting a gift.
The exchange starts out sedate, Layla, Megan, and Abby all selecting gifts from under the tree rather than stealing. But then it’s Lance’s turn, and he steals Megan’s gift. Just to steal it, because I’m pretty sure he’s not that interested in a fuzzy blanket, warm vanilla sugar body spray, and a candle from Bath & Body Works.
After that, it’s on. Megan steals Layla’s present, who steals Abby’s present, who steals Lance’s present. So Lance picks a gift that Chris then steals on his turn. By the time it’s over and the wrapping paper settles, I think everything has been stolen at least once, but we’ve all been laughing and cheering and giving each other shit. Between the freely flowing alcohol and the generally happy vibes inspired by the season and a party, everyone has a good time, including Layla, who seems to climb out of her shell more and more as time passes, settling into conversation with Megan and Elena, while Hannah and Abby chat in the kitchen. Evan is surprisingly deep in conversation with Matt and Lance. Evan wasn’t Matt’s biggest fan for a while, but it seems that’s all water under the bridge, thankfully. Three years with the love of his life helps a guy get over feeling like someone else “stole” a girl from him, I guess.
Chris wanders into the kitchen, and I decide to take the chance to approach him about an idea that I’ve been kicking around since I learned he was coming for the retirement party this weekend.
Sliding to my feet, I head to the kitchen as well, making a show of getting a slice of the chocolate chip pie Elena made so it doesn’t seem so much like I came in here just to corner Chris. Our eyes meet, and he jerks his chin in a nod. “How’s it going, man? You’re coaching football these days, right?”
I nod, quickly swallowing the bite of pie I’d already stuffed in my mouth. “Yup. Over at East Valley. We had a pretty good team this last year. Almost made it to state.”
“That’s great,” Chris says, taking a sip of his beer. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Silence stretches between us. Is now a good time to ask for what I want? Or is he going to get mad and feel like I’m trying to take advantage of him. He seems largely unaware or at least uncaring of my presence as he stands staring at his beer bottle and picking at the label. It occurs to me that Elena’s assessment is correct. He’s hurt and frustrated and doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“Hey,” I start, my voice coming out louder than I meant it to because of my nerves, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”
When he raises his eyes to mine, wariness lurks behind the polite facade. But he nods and says, “Sure. What’s up?”
Clearing my throat, I decide that ripping off the Band-Aid, so to speak, is the best approach. “I was, uh, I was wondering if you might have time to put on a clinic for my team. Maybe at the end of the school year, before you start your preseason training.”
“Oh, uh, hmm.” He looks at a point over my shoulder and rubs his jaw, then passes his hand to his hurt shoulder, giving it a squeeze before finally swallowing hard and nodding, his eyes finding mine. “Yeah. I could probably make that happen. What kind of clinic are you thinking? And how many days? Do you want just me, or do you want me to see if I can get any of my teammates to come over for it too?”
It’s my turn to stammer. “Oh, uhhh … sure? I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about all the specifics. I wasn’t even sure if you’d say yes.”
He laughs, a low, easy sound, shaking his head. “Of course, man. I’m happy to help a friend out like that. And working with kids is fun.” He shrugs, looking down and picking at the label of his beer bottle again. “Hell, depending on what happens with my shoulder, that might be my future too.”
My eyebrows wrinkle at that quietly
