Page 8 of Brewing Up Christmas
They kissed hungrily, hands exploring each other with a newfound urgency, their laughter punctuated by soft gasps and whispered words. There was a playfulness to their movements, a lightness that seemed to dissolve any lingering hesitation. Eli’s heart raced, his body responding to every touch, every soft whisper of her name on his lips.
Angelina’s lips moved to his ear, her breath warm and teasing. “You’re holding back, Eli,” she whispered, her voice a low, sultry challenge.
He chuckled, his hands roaming down her sides as he pulled her closer. “Who says I’m holding back?”
Her laughter was intoxicating, and she met his playful challenge with equal intensity, pulling him deeper into the moment. They were loud—unapologetically so—their voices filling the room as they gave themselves over to the heat of the night. Every touch, every movement was filled with a mix of passion and playful teasing, a connection that felt as much about laughter as it was about desire.
As they moved together, the world outside seemed to disappear. There was only the heat of their bodies, the sound of their laughter echoing through the room, andthe overwhelming sense of release that came with every moment spent in each other’s arms. It was as if nothing else mattered but the two of them, the intensity of the connection they shared.
But even in the midst of their passionate encounter, Eli couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deeper beneath it all. Angelina’s eyes, dark and full of mystery, seemed to watch him more closely than ever, as if she were waiting for something. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
As the night wore on and they found themselves tangled together, the laughter faded into a quiet, comfortable intimacy. Eli’s hand rested on her back, tracing lazy patterns across her skin as they lay in the dim light. The mission lingered at the edges of his mind, a constant reminder that this wasn’t just about the two of them. There was still more to do, more to uncover.
And yet, in that moment, with Angelina’s head resting on his chest and the soft rise and fall of her breath against him, Eli couldn’t help but feel like they’d shared something real. Something beyond the magic that had brought them together.
Angelina tilted her head, her eyes meeting his in the dim light. There was that playful glint again, butsomething else lingered beneath it—something unspoken. She reached up, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she whispered, her voice teasing but soft. “There’s still more work to do.”
Eli smiled, his fingers brushing the curve of her back. “I know,” he murmured, though for now, he was content to stay right where he was, savoring the warmth of the moment.
The Snowflake Charm
Eli dragged the ladder out of the back of the truck and set it against the first telephone pole on Main Street. The metal rungs clinked against the wood, the sharp sound cutting through the stillness of the cold air. The wind whistled low, tugging at his jacket, but Eli barely noticed. He was focused—on the task, on the snowflakes, on something he couldn’t quite name.
The box of snowflake decorations sat at his feet, their white, glittering surfaces reflecting the weak afternoon light. Each one was delicate, crafted with fine detail, the kind of thing you’d hang up in a department store window. But here he was, hanging them on telephone poles like some kind of Christmas handyman.
He picked one up, feeling its weight in his hand, the roughness of the ribbon that would secure it. As much as he’d grumbled about this whole mission, there was something satisfying about the physical work. He liked using his hands, liked the feel of the cold metal ladderunder his gloves as he grabbed the sides and climbed up to the first rung.
Eli hoisted himself up another step, his boots steady on the ladder as he reached the top, securing the first snowflake with a practiced motion. The ribbon looped around the pole, snug and tight, the snowflake spinning slightly as he stepped back to admire his work. He gave the ribbon a final tug, making sure it was secure before climbing down, the cold air biting at his cheeks.
One down, a dozen more to go.
As Eli moved the ladder to the next pole, the snowflakes started to fall. It was soft at first, almost imperceptible—a light dusting that seemed to swirl around him with a quiet grace. He paused for a moment, standing there with one foot on the ladder and one on the ground, his head tilted back as he watched the flakes drift down from the sky.
The town was silent. The kind of silence that only came with the first snowfall of the season, where everything slowed down, even time itself. Eli reached up, brushing a snowflake from his shoulder as it melted against the warmth of his skin. The cold didn’t bother him—it never really had. If anything, it made him feel more alive, more present.
He climbed the ladder again, hanging another snowflake, his fingers working quickly as the snowfall grew heavier, dusting the streets in a thin layer of white. As he moved from pole to pole, something stirred inside him—a memory, unbidden but welcome.
He was six years old, bundled up in a thick red jacket, his scarf wrapped so tight around his neck he could barely move. Snow had piled up overnight, and the whole world had turned white, the kind of snowstorm that closed schools and kept people indoors. But not them. His parents had laughed as they pulled him outside, the three of them working together to build the biggest snowman on the block.
His dad packed the snow into a perfect round ball for the base, while his mom shaped the head with expert hands, her gloves soaked through from the cold but her smile as warm as the sun. Eli had been in charge of the nose, holding the bright orange carrot like it was the most important job in the world. He had jammed it into place with a giggle, the sound of his parents’ laughter filling the air around him. It hadn’t mattered that the storm was still raging, or that the wind howled in their ears. They were together, building something out of nothing, and in that moment, it felt like the world was theirs.
Eli shook his head, the memory fading as he climbed down from the ladder, the last snowflake in his hand. The snowfall was steady now, the ground beneath himslowly being covered in a soft white blanket. He placed the final snowflake on the last pole, tying it with a firm knot, stepping back to admire his work.
The cold air wrapped around him, but instead of feeling harsh, it felt... right. Like he belonged here, in this moment, doing something as simple as hanging snowflakes in a small town. It wasn’t glamorous, but it wasreal.
He brushed the snow from his shoulders again, his breath coming out in short puffs as he turned to head back down the street. The decorations looked good—better than he’d expected, actually. The town, once dreary and gray, was now dotted with small bursts of white, the snowflakes catching the light as they spun gently in the breeze.
That’s when it happened.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the meter appear, hovering in mid-air just off to his left. The red liquid inside it bubbled, almost excited, as it jumped higher and higher with each passing second. Eli watched, his breath catching in his throat as the meter surged forward—50 points, 60, 70. It didn’t stop until it hit 75, the red liquid swirling at the top, leaving just a little room before the meter would be full.
Eli stared at it, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction settle in his chest. The town was on the brink of something, something bigger than just Christmas lights and decorations. And somehow, he’d played a part in it.
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his eyes lingering on the meter as it faded from view. The snow continued to fall around him, soft and steady, like it had been waiting for this moment all along. The streets of Bayshore, once quiet and cold, now felt alive, filled with a kind of warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Eli looked up at the sky, the snowflakes catching in his hair, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like fighting it.
