The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(37)

“Why do they have the Ken-doll crotch? And look at their faces, they’re all cherub-like. Is this supposed to be a pant-less child playing music? If so, are all these figurines prodigies? I don’t know much about kids, but what I do know is that they’re not great at playing instruments unless they’re prodigies. But could there really be that many child prodigies all in one area?”

“Maybe it’s a convention? Maybe all these pant-less, cherubic children are at a convention for the musically gifted.”

Crew thinks on that. “Is the uniform shirts only?”

“I mean, if we were to assess the scene properly, I would say, yeah, it’s a shirts-only convention.”

“But they have shoes,” Crew points out, a crease in his brow. “And socks. Tube sucks. They have shoes and tube sock and no pants.” Whispering, he says, “Where are their goddamn pants?”

“Honestly, I have—”

“Kann ich dir helfen?” the stall owner asks as he comes over to us.

Startled, Crew holds up the figurine and says, “I’ll take two.”

“What?” I try not to laugh.

He grabs the tuba player and hands it and the violinist to the owner.

“These are awesome. Love the no-pants angle.”

The owner gives him a weird look but walks over to the bagging area and starts wrapping up the figurines.

“What the hell are you going to do with two of those?”

He shrugs. “Give them to River and Hollis.” And then, as if a lightbulb goes off in his head, he says, “Oh, shit, can I get one more? Hutton needs one of these as well.” Crew picks up another figurine, but this one is playing the flute.

I stand there next to him, giggling the entire time, trying not to be disrespectful, but honestly, he’s about to give his friends pant-less, instrument-playing cherubs with Ken-doll crotches. I would love to be a fly on the wall when they open those gifts. After paying and receiving a carefully wrapped paper bag, we head down the aisle of stalls, arm in arm.

“I know about Hutton, especially since he came to the farm that one summer.”

“Oh, yeah, you were so jealous at first.”

“Was not.” I sway.

“To hell you weren’t. You were so mad you had to share time with me, but he was only there for a week before he went home. You changed your tune after that.”

“You just surprised me, that’s all. I was expecting Crew, and instead, I got the California twins. Yeah, I might have felt a little left out.”

“Ah, see? You were jealous.”

Rolling my eyes even though he can’t see me, I say, “So, tell me about River and Hollis. Are they hot? Want to introduce me to them?”

Crew stops and turns to face me. “Excuse me?”

I laugh. “What? You don’t want to play matchmaker with your friends?”

“You’re not available.”

“Oh, I’m not? Since when?”

“Since we’re friends again. Friends don’t date each other’s friends. You’re off limits unless I approve.”

Hope falls for a second in my foggy brain. For a second there, I thought I was off limits because he was claiming me.

Silly, silly drunk girl.

“You don’t approve of your own friends?”

“Uh, no.” He shakes his head as we walk past yet another Lebkuchen stall. I think that’s the fifth one we’ve seen tonight. And yet, every time, I’m tempted to buy more.

“We Wish You a Merry Christmas” plays in the background, and a light dusting of snow starts to fall over us, but thanks to the wine, we’re warm, feeling good, and have no need to retire to the hotel just yet.

I stop us both and look up toward the sky, letting a snowflake fall on my cheek. I take a deep breath and relish in the moment. We’re in Germany, in a famous Christmas market, surrounded by joy and laughter, music serenading us while it snows. I don’t think this moment could be more perfect. Well, unless Pops was here with us.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking in the moment,” I answer. I look up at him and smile.

He smiles back and then shakes his head. “Yeah, you’re definitely not available.”

With that, he continues to walk me down the aisle, and a little part of me does believe that he means that in a more romantic way. That he might be seeing me a little differently. It might be the booze talking, but that shared gaze, his words—they make me feel . . . all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Hollis and River are the reason I made it through this last season,” Crew says, quietly. “It was a shitty season, but without them, I never would have gotten through it.”

“Because of Pops?”

He nods. “Yeah. They carried me through the semester. They made sure I woke up and got out of bed to train, to hit up my classes, to continue moving forward even though I didn’t want to.” He taps his bag. “This is a thank-you for all of that.”

I laugh out loud, and he chuckles too. “What a wonderful thank you gift.”

“I’ll be sure to write a passionate card to go with the figurines so they think I’m serious and, therefore, they’re obligated to keep the figurines as a token of my appreciation.”

“Maybe you should add something in there like, ‘This reminds me of that one special time we shared together,’ but don’t be specific, so they’re truly confused.”