37. Christmas

thirty-seven

Cam

Divine intervention, isn't that what Violet calls it? When something so bizarre happens that leads to an outcome you didn't know was possible? I think Cody was my divine intervention the night before last. If I hadn't met up with him, if he hadn't chased me to the bathroom, I never would've known. 30

I wouldn't have known that Mallory was the woman he'd slept with, and I wouldn't have known that her lips had been pressed to Violet's just hours after she confessed her feelings for me.

I have no right to be upset about it, but I am anyway.

"No, that one's for Cam."

My gaze snaps up at the sound of my name. Adrian, Hayden, Avery and I are circled around a small stack of mostly poorly wrapped Christmas gifts. The only ones that don't look like a second-grade art project are Adrian's, of course. Perfectly creased paper, handmade bows, invisible tape binding it all together. Avery shoves a box in my direction.

"Thanks," I say, taking it from his hands. Adrian rocks onto their knees excitedly, boasting a giant, beaming grin.

"Betcha can't guess what it is!" they tease. I can't, of course. Adrian is rather unpredictable when it comes to gift giving. For one birthday, they painted the most beautiful portrait of Cooper, my childhood dog. Cooper was my dad's favorite thing in the world, next to me. Luigi made third, which isn't bad. Cooper died just after dad. The vet said he was old, but I think my father being gone had something to do with it. He had so much life before dad left, so much energy. It was like my dad took Cooper with him. The medium was oil pastels, the texture of his coat rising above the canvas.

The year after, they created an accurate replica of a pile of dog shit, made from toilet paper rolls and Modge-Podge.

The only thing I know for a fact about what's inside the box I'm holding, is that Adrian created it with their bare, talented hands.

"Open it, kid," Avery whines. "I've been waiting, like, ten minutes for my turn."

I roll my eyes, carefully peeling off the hand painted wrapping paper so as to not tear it. Adrian tugs the box out of my hands, rips the paper off in one fell swoop, and hands it back to me.

"I was going to save that!"

"Sorry." They shrug. "I was getting impatient."

To avoid getting absolutely bludgeoned by Adrian and Avery, I open the cardboard box quickly. I reach inside, grabbing onto a thin square-shaped object. It's glass, I can tell, from the cold hardness of it.

I pull it out, holding it up to analyze it. Shards of glass, different shapes and colors, are welded together into a square frame. Holding it to the light, the glass glistens, reflecting a colorful blur onto my living room wall. But the shards, I realize after staring for a moment, are not randomly placed. Gold toned pieces meld together in a chunky, rectangular object, thin silver slices laid carefully over the top.

My jaw drops slightly in awe as I stare at it. Adrian is talented, this I knew. But this belongs in a fucking museum.

"Luigi?" I ask, staring at them in disbelief. Tears well in my eyes, and Avery nudges me, handing me a half-used napkin. Adrian nods.

"You know all that glass we picked up after the Fourth of July?" they ask. I nod, handing the napkin back to Avery and wiping my tears with my sleeves instead.

Every year, the day after the Fourth of July, we all go to Bear Lake to do a cleanup. It's where they shoot the fireworks, and where most people get drunk and leave all their garbage. At first, we just went to clear away the litter. Avery is very passionate about the environment and kept going on tangents about how much he wanted to "litter their faces with his fists." It wasn't until after that Adrian had the idea to recycle what they could into art projects.

"It's mostly broken beer bottles but, who cares right?"

I don't mean to get emotional, I really don't. I just don't know what I would do without them. Any of them, even Avery with his snarky remarks and half-used napkins. I would have nothing without my family.

"I—I love you," I let out in a choked sob. Avery pats my back awkwardly, and Adrian and Hayden encompass me in a warm and loving embrace.

After, we blast Christmas music while taking turns opening presents from one another. Avery loves the "Don't Fuck with Mother Earth" shirt I got him, and Hayden almost pisses himself laughing when he opens a pink crotchet cowboy hat from Adrian.

"Put it on Farm Boy," I tease, slapping it onto his head. "Show us how a real man walks 'round these parts."

Hayden's spent his whole life on Ayers' Acres. It's the town's go-to spot for picking fruit and visiting their goats. They even do festivals throughout the seasons, but my favorite is the Peach Parade in July.

Hayden isn't exactly country, but he's not exactly not country either. There's no southern twang in his voice, because he's from Washington obviously, but something about his mannerisms, and definitely the way he dresses, just gives it away.

"Well, Buttercup," he says with an exaggerated accent. He flashes me a smirk, making his way over to me. "I suppose you don't wanna dance, do ya?" He places an invisible toothpick in his mouth and reaches his hand down to me. I fight the smile creeping across my face, but it gives me away. I roll my eyes, slapping my hand into his as he waltzes me around the room, hand in hand. Loud Christmas music fills the air around us as he twirls me around.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, his beaming blue eyes looking at me with concern. He continues spinning me, Adrian clapping and Avery calling him a show off, while giving us a huge smile. My smile drops.

"What do you mean?"

Hayden dips me down, the back of my head nearly touching the floor before he brings me back up.

"Violet told me," he says softly. "About all of it."

I shake my head, looking down.

His soft blonde brows press together, and his large gentle hands hold me tightly. "I'm sorry Cam. I pushed you to get the quartz. I thought you had feelings for her. I thought I was helping."

"You weren't," I say.

Hayden swallows, nodding apologetically. His eyes are glossy, but I know that he won't cry. Hayden's like Violet in that way. He doesn't let it be obvious, what he's thinking. "But I know your intentions, Hay. I forgive you." I sigh, looking over at Adrian and Avery, who are now laughing about something that I failed to overhear. I focus back on Hayden.

"What were you doing, Cam? With Cody? Do you know how badly that could've ended?" Hayden's voice is strained with worry, and I know it's not unwarranted. It could've ended badly with Cody, I know that. But I also know that if I had done it sooner, maybe I wouldn't have led Violet to believe there was more. Maybe I would've stood firmer with the rules, or maybe, the contract wouldn't have existed at all. The point being, that if I had done it sooner, Violet wouldn't have gotten hurt.

But I don't know if she was really that hurt now, seeing as it only took hours for her to kiss someone else. Some call it a rebound. But I don't feel the way Violet claimed to, and even I can't think about kissing anyone but her.

"I know," I say softly, my gaze lowering to the floor. "I just had to tell him. I had to let him know what he did to me, and I had to let him know he didn't win."

Hayden's gentle fingers lift my chin, my eyes flicking up to meet his. A beaming smile shines on his face, his eyes growing teary again.

"You said that?" he asks, almost in a whisper. I nod.

"Yes. What else would I have met up with him for?"

Hayden shrugs, his hand still on my waist as he sways me side to side.

"I don't know," he answers truthfully. His lips part again, but hesitation floods his eyes, and he waits a beat, glancing over at Adrian and Avery. They're still talking about who knows what, Avery's fiddling with the noise-canceling headphones Hayden had gifted him. Hayden looks back at me, his voice softening.

"She didn't do it, you know."

My eyes meet his, my brows knitted together in a true fashion of confusion.

"What?"

"Violet. She didn't kiss Mallory. Mallory kissed her." I stare at him, blinking slowly. My throat grows drier by the second, a large lump forming in the bottom of it. "Not that you care."

I lean my head into his shoulder as the song comes to a gradual end. Tears prick my eyes, Hayden's Christmas sweater absorbing them as they fall silently.

"Yeah," I say. "Not like I care."*