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Authors: Selena Kitt
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strawberries in. “What else do you want to try? We’ll have a Christmas picnic.”
“That’s not a Christmas tradition, is it?” I laugh, putting more food into the basket.
“We’ll make it one.”
“So how come you don’t do Christmas?’ I ask, unable to resist the rows of delicious fruit, adding apples and pears to the basket. “I mean, no tree, no lights…?”
“I’m not big on holidays.” He shrugs.
“Any of them?” I cock my head, a green apple in my hand. “Humans seem to like to celebrate. Even the fey…”
“I know.” He smiles as I put the apple in his basket. “One wish.”
“You were my wish,” I breathe, putting my arms around his waist. We have far too many clothes on, I decide, wiggling to try to get closer. My cheeks are still stinging from the cold.
“And you were mine,” he whispers, nuzzling my ear. Then he pulls back to look at me, eyes bright. “So do you really want to do Christmas?”
“Yes!” I exclaim. “I love Christmas! And sex and—”
“Shh!” He laughs, kissing my words away.
Zeph abandons his little basket for a big cart when I choose a table-top tree and flashing, multi-colored lights. I add box of shiny ornaments and an angel for the very top of the tree to our haul. Something about this makes me happy, but I don’t quite understand it.
We also stop by the women’s clothing section so I can pick up something to wear. I know I won’t be here long, but it’s nice to have something to wear that fits. And I like the way Zeph looks at me when I’m modeling—even if it’s just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
Zeph uses a card at the checkout and we pack everything into the backseat of the car, except the strawberries. I take those with me into the front seat.
“We could build a snowman.” I reach down and grab a handful of the cold white stuff before getting into the car. It holds no danger to me anymore. No worries about wet wings!
“Whatever you want to do, little one.” Zeph starts the car as I watch the snow melt in my hand. It’s like magic, leaving just water behind. And so cold! It makes me shiver.
“I want to be with you.” I look over at him, opening the strawberries and putting one into my mouth. There’s a sweet tang to them that explodes on my tongue
“You’re not supposed to eat the stems.” He laughs as he pulls out of the lot.
I put one up to his lips but he shakes his head.
“You eat them. I like watching you enjoy them.”
Strawberries are even sweeter without the crunchy green stems. I leave the stems in the container and have polished off all the berries by the time Zeph pulls into his driveway. His house is small, inconspicuous, tucked away between two other houses, a whole row of them, all alike, except his is the only one that’s dark. The rest are strung with lights.
“Let’s go do Christmas!” I hop out of the car and help him carry in the groceries and our impromptu tree and decorations, bracing myself against the cold.
I kick off the too-big boots and we take off all our winter gear and leave it drying on the foyer. Zeph puts the food away in the kitchen while I unbox the tree in the living room. It’s wholly unsatisfying. It smells harsh and opens like an umbrella. I clear a table beside the sofa and put it up, frowning at the strangeness of a plastic tree in the room. It isn’t until I start wrapping the lights around it that something starts to happen.
I keep tripping over the sweatpants I’m wearing so I take those off and continue decorating wearing just Zeph’s white, button-down shirt. In the kitchen, Zeph is humming a tune. He’s turned on the radio and Christmas carols are playing. I hum along—I’ve heard enough Christmas carols to be familiar—while I hang the ornaments.
“Zeph, come see!” I call as I unpack the very last thing, the angel tree-topper.
“I like you in my shirt.” His eyes light up when he comes around the corner and sees what I’m wearing. I feel my cheeks
“That’s not a Christmas tradition, is it?” I laugh, putting more food into the basket.
“We’ll make it one.”
“So how come you don’t do Christmas?’ I ask, unable to resist the rows of delicious fruit, adding apples and pears to the basket. “I mean, no tree, no lights…?”
“I’m not big on holidays.” He shrugs.
“Any of them?” I cock my head, a green apple in my hand. “Humans seem to like to celebrate. Even the fey…”
“I know.” He smiles as I put the apple in his basket. “One wish.”
“You were my wish,” I breathe, putting my arms around his waist. We have far too many clothes on, I decide, wiggling to try to get closer. My cheeks are still stinging from the cold.
“And you were mine,” he whispers, nuzzling my ear. Then he pulls back to look at me, eyes bright. “So do you really want to do Christmas?”
“Yes!” I exclaim. “I love Christmas! And sex and—”
“Shh!” He laughs, kissing my words away.
Zeph abandons his little basket for a big cart when I choose a table-top tree and flashing, multi-colored lights. I add box of shiny ornaments and an angel for the very top of the tree to our haul. Something about this makes me happy, but I don’t quite understand it.
We also stop by the women’s clothing section so I can pick up something to wear. I know I won’t be here long, but it’s nice to have something to wear that fits. And I like the way Zeph looks at me when I’m modeling—even if it’s just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
Zeph uses a card at the checkout and we pack everything into the backseat of the car, except the strawberries. I take those with me into the front seat.
“We could build a snowman.” I reach down and grab a handful of the cold white stuff before getting into the car. It holds no danger to me anymore. No worries about wet wings!
“Whatever you want to do, little one.” Zeph starts the car as I watch the snow melt in my hand. It’s like magic, leaving just water behind. And so cold! It makes me shiver.
“I want to be with you.” I look over at him, opening the strawberries and putting one into my mouth. There’s a sweet tang to them that explodes on my tongue
“You’re not supposed to eat the stems.” He laughs as he pulls out of the lot.
I put one up to his lips but he shakes his head.
“You eat them. I like watching you enjoy them.”
Strawberries are even sweeter without the crunchy green stems. I leave the stems in the container and have polished off all the berries by the time Zeph pulls into his driveway. His house is small, inconspicuous, tucked away between two other houses, a whole row of them, all alike, except his is the only one that’s dark. The rest are strung with lights.
“Let’s go do Christmas!” I hop out of the car and help him carry in the groceries and our impromptu tree and decorations, bracing myself against the cold.
I kick off the too-big boots and we take off all our winter gear and leave it drying on the foyer. Zeph puts the food away in the kitchen while I unbox the tree in the living room. It’s wholly unsatisfying. It smells harsh and opens like an umbrella. I clear a table beside the sofa and put it up, frowning at the strangeness of a plastic tree in the room. It isn’t until I start wrapping the lights around it that something starts to happen.
I keep tripping over the sweatpants I’m wearing so I take those off and continue decorating wearing just Zeph’s white, button-down shirt. In the kitchen, Zeph is humming a tune. He’s turned on the radio and Christmas carols are playing. I hum along—I’ve heard enough Christmas carols to be familiar—while I hang the ornaments.
“Zeph, come see!” I call as I unpack the very last thing, the angel tree-topper.
“I like you in my shirt.” His eyes light up when he comes around the corner and sees what I’m wearing. I feel my cheeks
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