“Alright,” I declare, “moment of truth. You have before you six fully de-clothed gingerbread men, freshly baked and given proper facial expressions. That is half a dozen naked gingerbread men. Take your pick.”
He looks at each of them. They all look pretty much identical to me, so I’m not sure what he’s evaluating. But it takes a couple of minutes before he reaches forward and touches one of them. His hand pulls back, and he shakes his head. He takes another minute to look at them.
“I already touched this one, so I’ll take it,” he says, taking the first one and setting it in front of himself.
“Take whichever one you want,” I insist. “None of us would mind that you touched one of them.”
“But it would,” he says. He picks up a cookie and starts to bring it to his mouth, then puts it down. He tries again, but it ends up back on the table. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Sam asks. “You said it was the clothes that bothered you, and now there aren’t any clothes.”
“Exactly. I can’t eat something that vulnerable,” he protests.
“I prepared for this,” I say. Bellamy and I go over to the counter and bring over bowls of royal icing we made. “Instant wardrobe. You don’t want Christmas clothes, right?”
“Right.”
“How about this?”
I spend a few moments with a chopstick, using the icing like paint. When I’m done, I gesture toward the cookie. Xavier bends his head down over it for a second, then lifts back up.
“No.”
“What’s wrong with it? It’s not Christmas.”
“You gave him sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt,” he says.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not Hawaiian. There are no flowers on it. It’s just a shirt with a collar.” I sigh. “Do you want me to fill it in and make it a t-shirt?”
“You dressed him for summer.”
“Technically, she dressed him for Hawaii. That’s there all year,” notes Bellamy.
“No,” Xavier says. “I can’t do it.”
“I could lengthen his pants.”
“Now you’re just being silly.”
“I’ve got it,” Dean says. “Is this one okay?”
He points to another cookie and Xavier nods. Dean takes the chopstick from my hand and goes to work. When he’s done, the cookie is wearing brown pants and a green sweater. Just like Xavier.
“It’s me,” Xavier says.
“Exactly. That’s what you’re wearing, which means you think it’s seasonally appropriate. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be wearing it. So, now you have a gingerbread Xavier, who is definitely not dressed for Christmas. What do you think?”
Xavier evaluates the cookie for a second, then picks it up and bites off its arm.
“That’s delicious,” he says.
I grin at him. “You did it.”
“You won’t eat it if it’s dressed for weather that’s too warm, but you can eat yourself?” Sam asks.
“I’m not a cookie, Sam.” He takes another bite. “And if I was, I’d be…”
“Peanut butter?” he offers.
“Oatmeal raisin. Dean would be peanut butter.” He looks Sam up and down. “You’d be a sugar cookie with sprinkles.” He stands up. “I’m going to the banana room to read for a little while.”
He takes his cookie and walks out of the kitchen. When he’s gone, Sam looks over at me.
“A sugar cookie?” he practically sputters.
“Sam, it’s the way he sees the world. You have to let him filter it however it makes sense…”
“All I get is a sugar cookie? Even Dean gets to be peanut butter.”
I give him an empathetic smile and pat him on the back. “At least you have sprinkles. Embrace your sprinkles.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Thirteen years ago…
Julia wasn’t expecting to see him walking across the center of campus in the middle of the day. She usually knew where he was supposed to be. When she might have a chance to see him for a few moments. The middle of the afternoon was never one of those times.
He shouldn’t be near the library. But she didn’t give herself the time to think about that or wonder what he was doing. Seeing him walking along the sidewalk talking to a guy holding a stack of books in one arm and what looked like a voice recorder in the other made a surge of anger rush up inside her.
Suddenly she thought about his stranding her without a ride and her having to walk through the cold. She remembered the way she felt when Jeremy stood behind her and his voice slid down the back of her neck.
She had been heading for the side doors of the library that led to the study rooms, but she shoved her notebook into her bag and stalked directly over to him.
“We need to talk,” she said when she got within a few steps of him.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then turned his attention back to the guy beside him.
“Can you give me just a second?” He looked at her. “I’m sorry, I’m actually busy right now. You’ll have to excuse me.”
He nodded and started to turn back to the guy, but she took a step toward him. “It will only take a minute.”
He drew in a breath. “I’m sorry, but as I said, I’m busy. I’m doing an interview for the student paper, and I can’t leave him waiting. If there’s something you need to talk to me about, feel free to send me a message, and I’ll get back to you.”
“Les,” she said as he turned away again.
This brought a dark glare and set jaw. He lowered his voice as if he didn’t want the people around to hear. “Don’t call me that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Stung, Julia stepped back and let them pass. She couldn’t believe he was acting that way toward her. She understood about his name. She shouldn’t have let it slip. He hated when she called him that, especially when other people were around. But she couldn’t help it. Even if he hated it, that was his name, and when they were alone together, she would tease him with it.
That sometimes made it
