Sprinkle All The Way (Evergreen Lake: Under the Mistletoe)

Chapter 7

seven

VIOLET

It’s been a few days since Thanksgiving, and I still haven’t heard anything from Noah. I distracted myself by throwing all my energy into Christmas shopping with my mom and building snowmen with Ava. I talked to Iris about the whole situation on Thanksgiving, and she told me to give him time to think it over. Now, my parents are downstairs watching the Sunday eight o’clock news while I take a break upstairs in my room.

Scrolling through my phone, old photos of Noah are the only thing lighting the dark space since I’m too exhausted to turn on the light. Back in high school, we didn’t hang out much outside of my room, keeping our friendship mostly between us. There were times when he would check in on me in the halls, but our friend groups didn’t overlap. I always wanted to pull him into more activities like the yearbook committee with me, but I was never brave enough to ask.

Most of these pictures are us goofing around in my room. There’s the time he let me do his makeup, which I remember was to cover the black eye from a fight at school. Then there’s the one where he tried to braid my hair and failed miserably. He’s smiling behind me, while I’m holding out my messy braid and looking annoyed mid eye roll.

A noise outside my window makes me jump and Noah’s face pops up a second later. I lock my phone quickly and toss it on the bed, moving to the window to help him.

His palms push the window open, and I’m suddenly a teenager again. Braces crowding my mouth, worrying about what to wear to school the next day, and helping a boy through my window after sunset.

But this time it isn’t a boy. It’s a man.

He smells much better than he did when we were teenagers, like vanilla. It must be all the baking. He only smelled like stale alcohol the last time I saw him.

He waves me away as he climbs in, determined to do this by himself. I see not much has changed.

“What are you doing?” I whisper-hiss at him, checking behind me to confirm my door is closed. The fear of getting caught by parents sits in the pit of my stomach now that I’m aware they probably heard him climb in. It really shouldn’t matter since I’m twenty-six, but I can’t help it.

“What? You can break into my apartment, but I can’t do this?” he huffs, finally standing in my room. He fills up the space more now, with his taller frame and broader shoulders. A flash of thirteen-year-old Noah crosses my mind, much smaller but as cute as ever.

“We’re not teenagers anymore. You could’ve used the front door,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

“But where’s the fun in that?” he whispers, shrugging. “I’m glad your dad didn’t get rid of the ladder.”

“Yeah, funny thing,” I bring my voice to a regular volume. “It turns out they knew you were sneaking in the whole time. They probably know you’re here now.”

“So I don’t have to whisper?” he teases .

“No,” I tell him. “Now did you think about my offer?”

“Woah, hold on, Vi.” He throws his hands up before reaching to take off his shoes and jacket. “Before we get down to business, did I climb through the right window?” He gestures around the room and I picture the last time we were both in here. Everything was different and I thought we were going to be friends forever. The motivational posters that were on the wall from book fairs would have agreed. Then, it all ended in the blink of an eye, and now we’re adults and this room is simply here to witness Noah break my heart again, I’m sure. At least this time he’s going to let me down in person.

“It’s the guest room now,” I say, trying not to think about all the time we spent here together.

He hums. “I liked it better when it was your room.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, moving to sit on the bed. “Me too, but this new mattress is comfortable.” I pat the spot next to me and he takes a seat. Memories of him in his bed flash through my mind and I’m glad the lights are still off so he can’t see my face flush. But now is not the time to be thinking about naked Noah when nothing can happen between us right now. Especially not when I’m positive he’s only here to decline my proposal. If he had wanted me to work with him, he would have been here sooner.

“Not too bad.” He bounces on the bed, making me laugh. Which annoys me, because I don’t want to get comfortable with him only to say goodbye again. “So are we going to sit here in the dark?”

“Oh, right.” I lean over and turn the bedside lamp on, illuminating the room in a dim glow. He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap. “Does this feel weird to you?” I ask him, ready to cut to the chase.

He nods. “I can fix this. May I?” he asks, gesturing to my feet .

“Go for it,” I tell him, uncertain what he means but expecting him to break the bad news.

Instead, he doesn’t hesitate to stand and grab my ankles. The touch of his fingertips on my skin sends the same electricity through my body like the other night. He turns me on the bed and my heartbeat picks up. I hold my breath watching as he kneels to the floor and my mind runs wild with what he could be doing. Reaching under the bed he pulls out the hidden mattress, and I finally understand where he’s going with this.

The second bed is made like the first one, with a thinner comforter. Grabbing one of the pillows from the bed, he hops onto it and lies down. Turning toward me, he props his head on his hand to look at me.

“How’s this?” he asks.

I mirror his pose, recreating a position we’ve been in a thousand times before. My stomach is in knots with the familiarity of having him next to me and I’m starting to wonder why he’s dragging this out so much. Maybe he’s not going to say no like I assumed. “Much better. Now business?”

“Not yet.” He holds up one finger, and my stomach knots further. “Tell me about why you’re really in town. I told you my whole thing.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “You most definitely did not tell me your whole thing.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows together confused.

“What about the jail thing?” I ask.

Noah lets out the longest groan, running one of his hands over his face. “Fine, you go first and I’ll tell you about that.”

Satisfied I’ll be getting an answer from him, I should probably tell him the whole reason I’m here. Not the abbreviated notes version I would give to anyone else.

“Buckle up because it’s a wild ride,” I tell him .

He reaches from his shoulder to his opposite waist, making a clicking sound as if he’s fastening a seatbelt.

“Last week my company told me I was being let go, effective immediately. Then, when I got home, my boyfriend of three years decided to break up with me and wanted me out of the apartment by Thanksgiving. So when you have no job and nowhere to live, you come home.” I get it out all in one breath, thankful to have it all out there.

He stares at me with his mouth open. “Fuck, Vi. That’s rough. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s probably not a great sign I wasn’t heartbroken about it either,” I admit. “Now it’s your turn.” I wave my hand toward him, so he doesn’t follow up on that statement. Seeing him again has me starting to realize why I might not have been so heartbroken about it.

He sits up, crossing his legs and leaning his arms against the bed in front of me. Leaning closer, my heart pounds when his face stops inches from mine.

“I killed someone,” he whispers.

“You killed someone!?” I shout as his hand flies to cover my mouth. His hand smells like vanilla scented soap, and I want to stick my tongue out and lick him, but I bite my tongue instead. All these old feels are creeping up and taking over my rational thinking.

“Jeez, alert the whole neighborhood, why don’t you?” He rolls his eyes. “I’m fucking with you, I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Fuck you,” I mumble behind his hand.

“You wish,” he replies, removing his hand from my mouth, but I can still feel the press of his fingertips against my cheek as they heat from the playful teasing I’m used to from him. It’s almost like no time has passed between us, but my heart knows that’s a lie. “I didn’t go to jail. I didn’t even get arrested. It’s all a big misunderstanding because when I called my mom last month she was in Hanson’s and couldn’t hear me well. Naturally, she can’t keep her voice down so rumors started to spread. Now everyone thinks I was in jail, and there’s a different reason each day.”

This was part of why I went away for college and haven’t moved home yet. Everyone is always in everyone else’s business and it’s infuriating. I swear everyone already knows about Greg breaking up with me even though none of them know him well, and have only met him in passing once.

“Why did she think you got arrested?” I ask, still needing the truth.

“Let me start at the beginning,” he says, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. “I was at this bar and there was this couple fighting. It was clear the woman didn’t want to go home with the guy, but he was drunk and persistent. They were yelling and things escalated quickly when another guy bumped into the boyfriend. He got up and started throwing punches, and I could tell that he was no longer aware of his girlfriend’s presence. I stood up and pulled her out of the way right as a stray punch whipped in front of her. She was shaken up and the bartender broke up the fight after calling the police. I didn’t want to leave her alone, so I stayed with her until the police showed up. They ended up taking both guys in and wanted to question the girlfriend and me about what happened. The whole time this was happening my mom was trying to call me, but it was too late to call her back by the time I got home. When I finally did call her, she misheard when I told her the other guys got arrested, and thought I got arrested. Then it spiraled from there. That’s the big bad story.”

“Typical, Noah,” I tease, rolling my eyes at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, reaching to flick my forehead but I dodge him.

“You’re always trying to help out. Every time I saw you at school you’d help me pick up my books,” I laugh at the memory of teenage Noah rushing over to me in the hallway.

“Yeah well, you dropped those books a lot. Someone had to help you.” He rolls his eyes, and I keep the fact of how I only dropped my books to see him to myself. “Anyway, now we’re all caught up, should we talk about your criminal activity from the other day?”

“Again, I didn’t break in,” I argue. “But you thought about my offer?”

“I did. I was worried you were only offering because you felt bad for me,” he admits. “But now I know you’ve got nothing to do, I guess I could help you out by letting you work at the shop.” He shrugs and crosses his arms. I want to play along with his joke, but I’m too excited.

I lunge forward, throwing my arms around him. “Yay! This will be so much fun.”

The movement catches him by surprise and he falls backward, arms uncrossing to catch me. The force sends us sliding back as we hang off the trundle. I’m suddenly aware I’m directly on top of him, his head resting against the floor and my legs still caught on my mattress. His arms are warm around me and there’s the slightest squeeze, like he doesn’t want to let me go. My thoughts are racing with memories of the dreams I’ve had about him, but I’m no better than a teenager with raging hormones. The image of his back dimples comes to the forefront of my mind and I would give anything to explore them with my tongue. I want more than anything to rewind time and return to before he left me here alone and heartbroken, but I can’t do that.

He holds me there for another moment before pushing us up and righting me on my bed, and I miss the warmth of his hands on me.

“Then we have a deal. Can you start Tuesday morning? I want to do a few things tomorrow before you start,” he says, eyes anywhere but on me.

“Absolutely,” I reply, playing with my hair so I don’t reach out and pull him to me.

“Perfect.” He starts nodding and glancing around the room. “I should go now.” He jumps off the bed, quickly putting his shoes and jacket on.

“Right, well I will see you Tuesday,” I say.

“Yup. Tuesday.” He nods more, opening the window and climbing out. He goes to shut it, and I watch him disappear outside. Before the window fully closes, he’s popping his head through the opening, finally looking at me again for more than two seconds. “Two steps forward,” he says, pointing at me.

“One step back,” I echo, rolling my eyes at the saying he got wrong all those years ago. I’ve whispered it to myself countless times when I need encouragement. One time Greg overheard me, and corrected me. I attempted to tell him about why I was saying it the wrong way, and he just rolled his eyes. When Noah finally shuts the window, I’m left flustered and excited for what this week might bring.