The video caught all of it. The kiss and Evan's surprised laugh afterward, complete with a readjustment of the elf hat. Hog's voice could be heard yelling "THAT'S MY BOYS!" from somewhere off-camera.
"How many views?" I asked, though I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
Hog checked. "Forty-three thousand and climbing. Posted two hours ago."
Forty-three thousand people had watched me kiss my boyfriend while dressed as Santa Claus.
"Could be worse," Evan said, with the tips of his ears turning pink.
"Could be better," I countered. "That elf costume makes your ass look incredible. The camera angle doesn't do it justice."
Pickle snorted. Kowalczyk grinned. Hog looked like he wanted to frame the phone and hang it in his locker.
And Evan? Evan watched the video again, with that little crease between his eyebrows that meant he was processing something.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing. It's just..." He looked up at me. "We look happy."
We did. In the grainy phone footage, surrounded by Christmas decorations and the disarray of a community fundraiser, we were two people who'd figured out how to be stupid in love without being ridiculous about it.
"That's because we are happy."
"Yeah," Evan smiled. "We are."
When we returned home, the apartment was quiet. When I first moved to Thunder Bay, the lack of noise would make me nervous. Now, it felt like coming home.
The whole place smelled like cinnamon and pine, courtesy of Evan's decorating.
"Beer?" Evan called from the kitchen, already opening the fridge door.
"Yeah, thanks."
I followed the sound of his voice. He handed me a beer, already opened, condensation cool against my palm. "Good party."
"Yeah. Pickle only set one thing on fire, and it was supposed to be on fire, so I'm calling it a win."
Evan smiled, that small, pleased expression he got when everything had gone according to plan. He opened the fridge again, probably looking for those leftover cookies I'd seen him sneaking into a container before we left.
That's when he saw it.
My latest label, stuck to the side of a plastic container that held cookies:Evan's Cookie Karma – One per Kiss.
He pulled the container out, holding it up to read the label again.
"Cookie karma?"
"It's a new system I'm implementing. Very scientific. Evidence-based." I leaned against the counter, grinning.
Evan set the container on the counter and turned to face me.
"One per kiss," he repeated.
"That's the rate. Though I'm open to negotiations if you want to discuss bulk pricing."
"And if I want multiple cookies?"
I didn't say anything. I pointed at my lips.
