CW cracked an eye open. He wasn't exactly sure where he was. He puffed out his cheeks as he rose on his elbows. He was in bed, not quite fully clothed in his flannel boxers and socks. The covers were comfy, warm, and cozy. The room was downright freezing, so he snuggled in the covers again.
The bed was bigger than his, and it was still the shadows of early morning, or was that night?
Thanksgiving was such a long engagement. It was definitely not a day off. He guessed it was rewarding. But he was on his feet most of the day. And he did have a lot to do. Making vast metal tubs of side dishes. He watched the baked turkeys to keep them moist, not dry. He learned a lot, but he couldn't think about it at the moment.
Instead, he could feel the heat of something near, so he reached out with his big fat toe to touch it. A chunky foot kicked him right back. CW turned away with the covers like a big hood around his head and motioned with his mouth, "NO!" He didn't say a word but almost said SHIT with clenched teeth.
How in the hell did this happen? He looked over to the dark honey curls peaking out from the covers. This time he got out of bed and shivered in the cold, looking for his T-shirt but found someone's panties instead.
He was in shock. The bed shifted. He quickly found his thermal shirt and pulled it on as if he could get dressed soon enough; he would just go. No questions asked. Just go. But he noticed the falling snow. And heard a snowplow go by on the street.
No way was anyone coming to the coffee shop in this. He was expecting the snow to come later, not sooner.
He sat back down on the bed and combed his messy hair with his fingers. Of course, he was still trying to think back. His mind was on rewind. It felt like the celebration had taken a turn. Yes, there was wine, and he and Crystal partook of it as if to celebrate like adults with Darry's parents.
He'd never been to a traditional Thanksgiving dinner like that. He grew up with Hungry Man TV Dinners, as his grandma had called them. They always watched the parade and ate during the Dog Show on NBC. This was really a family celebration, and he and Crystal both got a turkey leg.
Maybe he ate too much turnkey. So did Crystal. He didn't drink as much red wine as Crystal did. He was a lightweight in that category. She practically finished off the bottle, and he'd driven them home.
Except. His eyes opened wide. She had other things in mind when they got to her place. And all he could think of was how intoxicating it was.
He nursed the corner of his lip. Maybe it was just sleep. Yeah, maybe. He looked out at the white canvas of the street.
"It snowed," he said as if he had just gotten there.
Crystal fought the covers back, but covered herself when she realized she had nothing on. "What did you say?" She looked at him as if she were nothing like the Crystal he had known last night. She looked unhappy.
"It snowed." He nodded.
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