Dashing Through the No (Summersweet Island 3)
“What the hell is even happening right now?!” He laughs, shouting over the music and making me laugh right along with him, as parents who’ve wandered into the foyer start covering their children’s eyes when they see all the bare-chested hip gyrations.
“More surprises.” I shrug, handing him the box.
Holding it in one arm, Bodhi lifts the lid and tosses it to the carpet, reaching in and pulling out…
“Yeah, little snafu with that one too!” Millie smiles as she dances by, while Bodhi drops the empty box to the ground, and holds up a two-foot long, six-inch thick dirty piece of wood that looks like it came from the firewood pile next to the house. “I’m Jewish, but even people who celebrate Christmas didn’t know what the fuck a yule log is, and I asked everyone. Also, all of you idiots spell you will wrong, so I fixed it for you.”
Fourth item on Bodhi’s Best Christmas Ever List of Necessities: A yule log.
“That was supposed to be one of those chocolate roll cakes that’s frosted to look like a log,” I tell Bodhi as he holds the piece of wood up higher to see that Millie spray-painted You’ll log on it.
“Who even are you right now?” Bodhi whispers, his eyes shining with happiness as I take the damn log out of his hand and set it down on the coffee table next to the covered-up Santa bong.
“But wait, there’s myrrh!” I roll my eyes at how stupid I sound saying a dumb Christmas pun, as Millie restarts the Mariah Carey song again from the beginning when it ends. A few guests have joined us in the living room to dance with the strippers all around us, while Allie and Jason stand in the foyer looking exactly like Bodhi did when he thought I was going to murder him.
With Bodhi’s eyes locked on mine as I stand a few feet away from him in the middle of the room, I quickly unbutton my joggers and shove them down my legs, kicking them off and finally not sweating to death after wearing them on top of the khaki-colored leggings I snuck on in the bathroom. One of Bodhi’s eyebrows quirks, and he gets a dirty look in his eyes when I start unbuttoning my flannel shirt.
The dirty look is replaced with wide-eyed shock when he realizes I’m not joining in with the half-naked men all around us to strip, as I yank my flannel down my arms and toss it to the side with my joggers. To reveal the green, long-sleeved cotton shirt I also snuck on in the bathroom, with a gingerbread man on it, along with the words Let’s get baked.
Fifth item on Bodhi’s Best Christmas Ever List of Necessities: Matching Christmas PJs.
Tears are definitely filling Bodhi’s eyes now as they dart back and forth between our ridiculous matching outfits, whispering, “Holy shit, we match,” as I motion Millie over with a wave of one of my hands.
She quickly trots over to me on the toes of her sky-high stilettos and hands me a small box. “So, there was a little—”
“Snafu,” I cut her off with a laugh and a roll of my eyes as I take the box. “Already assumed as much. Thank you.”
Millie air kisses both of my cheeks before trotting away. Taking a deep breath, I close the distance between me and Bodhi and hand him the box.
“Open it,” I whisper when he just stands there staring at me, as Millie finally turns the music down so it isn’t house-party level, and the strippers and guests start bobbing and swaying slowly to the music, instead of dry-humping all around us.
“Wow, kinky,” Bodhi says with a wag of his eyebrows when he finally pulls the lid off the small box in his hands. There’s nothing I can do but sigh with a smile on my face when I see what’s nestled down inside the box.
Fifth item on Bodhi’s Best Christmas Ever List of Necessities: Five motherfucking golden rings blessed by Snoop Dog.
“We couldn’t get Snoop on such short notice—”
“He sends his love from Turks and Caicos, though!” Millie interrupts me, shouting from back in the foyer, as Bodhi looks over at her, giving her a smile and a chin nod of thanks.
“But hey, nothing says will you marry me like five golden cock rings.” I’m already down on one knee in front of Bodhi before I finish speaking. There’s a loud gasp, and then the box of cock rings slips from his hands and spills around the carpet by my knee when he looks away from Millie and then down and sees what I’m doing.
And right now, I’m proposing to my boyfriend, because I am Tess Motherfucking Powell, and I ask the questions around here, goddammit!
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” Bodhi chants, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as he fans his face with both hands. He looks down at me with eyes that are more excited than when he saw the Santa bong.