by Knox, Abby
She shakes her head. “See, that’s what I’m talking about.”
I shrug and lean forward more, closing in on her personal space. “Why do you care so much about social standing? It’s so…so high school. You’re a grown-ass woman.”
She sets down her spoon. “Crosby, you don’t understand.”
“I think I do though. You’ve been brought up in this ivory tower and surrounded by people who don’t even know you. None of them see what I see, least of all your own mother.”
10
Ridley
On one hand, how dare he criticize my family and friends. On the other hand, he’s one hundred percent correct.
He squeezes my hand before letting go as footsteps approach the kitchen.
“Why do you two look so happy?” Mother asks.
“One more sleep until Christmas,” I reply.
My mother chirps, “Dear, grownups don’t speak like that. It’s ‘one more night.’ Honestly, the way you and your friends talk these days.”
I shake my head as she turns away from me to fill her coffee mug.
“Actually,” Crosby says, “Sleep can be used as a noun. As in, ‘did you have a good sleep?’ So, yeah, to say ‘one more sleep until Christmas’ is a totally valid usage.”
I look up at Crosby, my eyes shooting him a look that communicates to him that he’s put himself in mortal danger. I look to my mother as I straighten my shoulders. “See?”
Mother looks meaningfully between me and Crosby. A beat passes and I start to wonder if she’s about to gut my future stepbrother like a fish for mansplaining to her in her own house.
Instead she nods and looks at Crosby approvingly. “I knew I liked you as soon as I met you, Crosby. Pay attention to this one, Ridley. He’s smart. You could learn some things from him.”
I knew I couldn’t enjoy the moment of triumph for long. Crosby stares at me so intensely that I can’t avert my eyes. His nostrils are flaring. Seems he does not like my mother running me down. Very subtly I shake my head and widen my gaze to tell him to drop it. But the look on his face and his shallow breathing tell me he’s going through some primal moment and there’s nothing I can do to dispel it.
“Mrs. Rushmore …,” he starts, and I have to cover my face and peak through my fingers because I just can’t watch the full view of this shit show that’s about to happen. “If I may say so, you have done a magnificent job as a mother. Ridley is going to do great things. I can just tell.”
I can’t stay in this room a second longer. The kindness from Crosby in contrast to the sharpness of my mother compels me to get out of here. I turn my back on the both of them and go to the French doors. “I’m gonna check on Sassy again.” My voice sounds strange, choked by a huge lump in my throat. It’s higher pitched and breathy.
I hear Mother’s syrupy, smiley voice. “That’s a very nice thing of you to say, Crosby. Well, then. Be dressed and ready in the front hall promptly at noon for the photo shoot, mmkay? I’m off to hair and makeup.”
I’m barely halfway out the door when I feel Crosby grab me around the waist and pull me close, dragging me back into the kitchen and closing the door. Through the material of my thin bathrobe, his dick roots out the valley between my ass cheeks. The side of his face tickles and warms the side of mine from behind. It’s such a cozy feeling I regret sneaking out of bed so quickly this morning to check on Sassy the first time.
“You ever leave my bed again without waking me up, I’m going to have to spank you.”
I feel his face tighten in a smile as he says this and I shiver.
“Promise?”
11
Ridley
My mother, in her enduring wisdom, likes to do our Christmas photo shoot on Christmas Eve as soon as we’ve all dressed for the party. She then sends them out to arrive by Epiphany.
Well, she doesn’t send them out. She has her assistant send them out.
She likes to think she trademarked this idea as part of her “Radical Me Time” blog. As if she could be radically caring about anything else but herself.
Harsh? Me? As Mother would say, that’s my “brand.”
“OK, everyone,” chirps the photographer. “Eyes up here.”
I paste a sugary smile on my face and hiss at my mother, who stands next to me. “Tell me again why we’re doing this on Christmas Eve and not, like, in summer or fall, like normal people?”
Through clenched teeth, my mother explains, “Because women have enough to do during the holidays. This way, we sign and send cards when our schedules have finally calmed down, during the week after Christmas. And nobody actually cares when their Christmas card arrives.”
I roll my eyes, for my own benefit since she can’t actually see my face. “In that case, why send them at all, if nobody cares?”
“One point two million Instagram followers and seven new corporate contracts thought it was brilliant enough.”
“Well, you are turning 41 this year, so you should accept all the free skincare products you can get.”
“You got your sense of humor from your father. And I’m turning 39 this year, thank you very much.”
I glance around her to Crosby, who catches my eye. The photographer scolds me, and I snap back to attention, but I savor the little look he gave me.
While Mother and Neil and I are dressed for the black tie affair of the year, Crosby wears a vivid green velvet jacket and a plaid necktie with a Star Trek: The Next Generation tee-shirt. He looks like a Christmas elf at a science fiction convention. My mother must be absolutely livid about it.
For the rest of the photo shoot, my smiles are completely warm and genuine and come from a deeply satisfied place inside of me.
12
Crosby
I can’t wait for this party to end so I can see what it feels like to hold Ridley’s body against me while she’s wearing a cocktail dress with the coverage of a slip. That dress blinds me whenever she struts around the room, catching the holiday lights with its very large silver sequin things that would make pretty decent body armor for one of my game characters.
I wait until Bianca is plenty toasted and distracted with her A-list guests before pulling Ridley into the coat closet.
She yelps when I close the door, leaving us together, alone, in complete darkness except for the light beaming in from under the door.
“You couldn’t find some mistletoe?”
I hold her tight to me while she laughs, still surprised by my eagerness and brazenness. With my free hand I stroke down her body. “Careful,” she says. “It’s hard to get the sequins back into place just right if you mess with them too much.”
I force my big mitts to go easy with the caresses over the sequins, even though all I want to do is rip this dress off her. “These things are going to cut me or choke me, one or the other.”
I hear her smile in the dark. “That’s kind of hot, though, right?”
My lips trace a line down her neck, stopping to savor the warm valley between her soft breasts.
I stroke the outside of her thigh, shoving the dress up high so I can palm her ass then spank it.
“Careful, nerd. You leave a mark and the swim team will talk.”
I laugh and suck the skin just above her plunging neckline into my mouth.
“Let ’em talk, you’re a grown-ass college student. How about I leave you some hickies for good measure?”
Her body stiffens.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I was just messing around. I won’t leave a mark.”
“It’s nothing. I just remembered something about school. I’m…uhm…a little worried about my grades, that’s all.”
I pull her dress all the way up, slide her lacy thong to one side, and slip my fingers gently between her folds. Ridley sucks her breath in through her teeth and mutters my name.
“Then allow me to fuck that worry out of you.”
Her legs go weak and the two of us tumble to the floor of the closet, taking a pile of expensive fur,
camel hair and wool coats with us. I coax her clit with my fingers as we lie together in the dark.
“You’re so bad,” she whispers. “I thought nerds were supposed to be rule followers.”
With my other hand I hike up her dress even further until I feel the flimsy lace bra she’s wearing. I tug it down for some much needed skin to skin contact.
“Nah,” I say. “We have everyone believing we’re the rule followers. That way we get away with a lot more. Would I be fucking my future stepsister if I cared at all about the rules?”
I keep my aching length inside my pants. As much as I don’t care about making a mess on all over these obscene animal pelts, I don’t actually want to leave that much evidence.
Besides, I have watched my girl act like a good, dutiful daughter all day long and late into the night at this terrible party full of terrible people. All I want to do right now is make this moment about her.
“I see you, you know,” I whisper into her ear while my thumb circles her clit. Ridley’s body presses into my hand to urge me on. “I see how you talk to your mother’s friends. I see how you grin and bear it all. I know you’re bursting to get out of here. I see …you.”
“Stop,” she whimpers.
“No. I’m not going to stop saying it until you believe it. You’re a good person, Ridley Rushmore. You’re the best of all of them.”
I replace my fingers with my mouth on her pussy, gently licking, sucking her clit into my mouth, and swallowing all of her juices until her body spasms with her climax.
She blurts out my name, forgetting to be quiet.
I hold her tight to me as we ride out her aftershocks. together. “I love it. I love that you can lose yourself with me, baby.”
I help her straighten out her dress and then tell her what my real plan had been for her tonight.
13
Ridley
Crosby has a truly weird suggestion for Christmas Eve night as we sneak away from the party.
“What did you say?” I ask as we lie together under the warm blankets in his room, the fireplace crackling and popping nearby.
He leans in and says close to my ear. “We’re going to snuggle on my sofa in our pajamas and whisper about the things that make us happy.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. “That is the nerdiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
The shivers that ripple across my skin with his breath in my ear would beg to differ. This isn’t nerdy. This is sweet and far too intense for the Ridley Rushmore of yesterday—before she met this giant, gorgeous, romantic nerd.
And internally, my heart rate increases and the stirring in my belly of the warm fuzzies take over.
I settle into the crook of his shoulder. “You’re wearing SpongeBob boxer shorts. That hardly qualifies as pajamas.”
“It does if they’re my favorite thing to sleep in.”
I roll my eyes. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “This feels silly but I’ll do it.”
“Shhh…whisper it.”
“Oh, we’re starting already?”
He nods.
“I’m so glad we decided to ditch the party,” I whisper.
He chuckles and whispers, “I’m happy your mom is too drunk to notice. And I’m happy that I’m warm and fed.”
I nudge him. “Yeah, that too,” I reply. “I’m glad I have someone to remind me how easy my life is.”
“I’m happy I have someone who is so kind to animals,” he whispers. “And I’m happy you have me, too.”
“I’m happy to be able to laugh at your cockiness,” I say.
“No, I mean it. I’m glad to be had by you.”
I’m confused. “What? I don’t know what that means.”
“You have me. I’m happy you have me. Because I’m yours. Does that make sense now?”
The pleasant tingles wash over me.
I want to stop the whispering game now because here come the feelings again.
“Can I go and get Sassy?”
His hand brushes my hair and he kisses my forehead. It’s so sweet my heart aches. “Anything you want, baby.”
14
Crosby
My Ridley is asleep on top of my chest, her breath tickling my chest hairs, her tiny feet hooked around one of my slightly bent knees.
Sassy is sleeping on my shoulder. I’m stroking Ridley’s hair with one hand and Sassy's fur with the other.
This is as close to perfection as I’ve ever gotten.
The only thing more perfect could be if she would ever agree to marry me.
I’d better lock that down soon. I can’t imagine anyone at her college letting her go to waste.
“Your feelings are safe with me, you know. I’m not one of the people who will wait until your guard is down before kicking your legs out from under you. I want you to stand as tall as you can and know that I’m here for you.”
The best part of knowing Ridley is not her kiss, though it is decidedly the best kiss in the world.
No, the best part of being with Ridley is holding her in my bed on Christmas Eve night. Feeling her steady breathing, her chest rising and falling against my chest.
I don’t care that I’m pinned down with my head at a weird angle against the headboard.
I will lie here all night if it makes her feel enclosed, protected, safe.
I don’t know how long I lie there awake, watching the snow hitting the bedroom window, gathering on the window pane. Not long enough. Every moment I’m asleep is a moment of our life together that I miss.
15
Ridley
Christmas morning arrives with something even better than sliding down the banister as a child to open presents under the tree in the family room.
Not that it takes much to outdo my childhood Christmas mornings. Mother and Daddy never got along. Mother forbade me to leave out milk and cookies for Santa Claus because it would attract ants. As a child of privilege, I know I should never complain about anything, but nothing ever felt like how Christmas seemed to feel in other families. Everything I asked for, I received, kind of. It was always a better, more tasteful version of whatever I asked for. It was like I was constantly getting the message that my choices and preferences were the wrong ones.
So on this morning, waking up on top of Crosby’s big chest with Sassy curled up next to us, I’ve never been happier or more content.
Crosby peppers my forehead with kisses until I’m fully awake. I smile and allow him to continue. Soon, though, Sassy begins acting weird.
I sit up and watch her. She’s hopped off the bed and has begun pacing and mewling quite loudly. Thank god we’re at the far end of the house and Mother can’t hear her. At least I don’t think she can.
“What’s going on?” a sleepy Crosby asks.
“I think she’s having her baby. Oh shit. I need a box. I don’t think I want her to have those babies outside even if her house has a heat lamp. Do you want me to take her to my room?”
But Crosby sits up and puts two hands on my shoulders. “Everything is going to be fine. Look.”
I follow his gaze and I see Sassy staking her claim on Crosby’s open suitcase.
“Oh my god, no,” I gasp.
Crosby laughs. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. That’s disgusting. She’s going to have her babies on a stupid Hufflepuff tee-shirt and then what? You won’t be able to leave tomorrow because your suitcase will be full of kittens.”
I feel him smile when he kisses my mouth. “If I hadn’t promised my mom I would go and see her the day after Christmas, I would cancel all of it. I have other bags with me. I can leave that one. I don’t think I’m a member of the family enough to warrant a sack full of presents to take home in my luggage, anyway.”
“So practical,” I say.
Crosby and I quietly get dressed, check on Sassy one more time, and then head downstairs to Christmas breakfast and then to the opening of presents under the tree.
Neil and Mother are in matching si
lk pajamas, of course, looking stupidly happy with each other. Mother nursing only a slight hangover from last night.
“Crosby, why don’t you play Santa and pass out our gifts to your sister?”
“Gross, Dad. She’s not my sister. She’s not even going to be my sister. “
“Fine, stepsister,” Neil says.
“And when will that be, exactly?” I ask.
Mother shoots icicles at me. “When the spirit moves.”
I escape her warning gaze, turning my attention back to Neil. “That’s usually not the best move for Rushmore women. We like to have a clear agenda.” I try to keep my tone light but I can practically see smoke coming out of my mother’s ears.
“Ridley, dear.”
Neil puts a hand up reassuringly. “No, it’s fine. I completely understand. You have questions about me. I’m going to be your new father figure and you just met me. It makes sense that you would have questions.”
That’s not exactly my motivation for this question but I let him think that it is.
“Right. I have questions about your intentions,” I say.
Mother is seething. But as I watch the two of them together, it seems clear to me that despite how dippy I might think Neil is, he seems genuinely in love with my mother. My mother does everything with a scary military precision and Neil is very much a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. They don’t make sense together, but then maybe they do. He’s always kissing her on the hand, touching her shoulder, rubbing her back. She seems to calm down whenever he touches her like that.
My body longs to be open like that with Crosby.
I feel the heat of Crosby’s stare from across the family room, and I don’t want to look. When I do, I know he’s thinking the same thing.
