In Waves | ✔️

56 | sugar and spice

It's the last week of school before winter break and I still haven't given Matt an answer about New York. He says it doesn't matter if my decision is last minute, but that hasn't stopped him from continually asking me if I've come to that decision yet.

"You'd be crazy to turn down a free trip to New York. Doesn't mean you have to sleep with him when you're there," Rachel tells me as she examines a glittery star ornament. Her family isn't big on Christmas, so every year she gets her festive fill by helping us decorate. Right now it's just the two of us at the tree. 

"Yes it does, Rach. That's what he's expecting," I whisper, dusting off a ceramic angel. "And I know virginity isn't a big deal to some people. I know it's basically a social construct or whatever, but it still..."

"It still matters."

"Yeah it still matters. How can it not matter when it's literally allowing someone to get as physically close as a human can possibly get? For the first time ever? This decision matters. If I don't go, we don't do it. If I go, we do it."

"Do what?" I startle at Rob's appearance. He's munching on a gingersnap from the batch I made last night. "Do what?" he repeats.

"Uhm..."

"The bare minimum, which is what you're doing for this tree!" Rachel hastily snaps. "Why don't you stop stuffing your face and come and help us!"

"Wha—why're you shouting?" Crumbs fall from his slack jaw. "I didn't do anything!"

"Exactly!"

He shoves the rest of the cookie in his mouth, stomps over and thrusts a shiny red bauble on the tree. "Happy?"

"No, that's sloppy." Rachel picks it off the branch. "Forget it. Just go away."

He glares daggers before he grumbles his way back to the kitchen.

She watches him until he's out of earshot, turning to me with a sly smile. "Where were we?"

An afternoon of venting and tree decorating turns into a night of cheesy Christmas movies, popcorn, and hot chocolate. The only thing missing a snowstorm to keep us from going to school, but alas, Oceanview doesn't deliver those types of Christmas miracles. It's cool enough to wear jeans, but too hot to wear any woolly holiday sweaters. I have a bunch stuffed in the back of my closet, just in case Oceanview ever decides to do a 180 and give me my ultimate winter.

I suppose that would also be an upside to New York. It would be far colder, maybe even snowing. New York in blankets of snow. The thought is enough to text Matt my answer right now. I don't. But it's close.

After school, I'm rushing down the hallway with tunnel vision. No distractions, no stops.

"Hey—"

"Can't talk," I tell Nate. "Gotta get to the store."

"Why?" He follows on my heels.

"Because Mr. Clarke just asked me to make a bazillion cookies for the blood drive tomorrow. So yeah, I need to buy ingredients, and then I'll be drowning in cookie dough all night."

"Yum."

"Not yum, Nate! Stressful!" I jog down the steps.

"Well, why did you agree to do it then?"

"Because it's a blood drive and it's nice to be nice!" I turn to stop him from following, pressing my hand to his chest. "No lesson today, or tomorrow. Maybe ever. I might collapse from baking exhaustion. Bye."

When I'm knee-deep in flour and sugar, the kitchen a mess of rolling pins, dough and baking sheets, the ringing doorbell pulls me away. I wipe my floury apron, meeting the last person I'd ever expect to be standing on the other side of the door when I open.