Thicker Than Paper

Christmas jitters

Warm, and familiar. The air is different, good or bad I'm not sure. But we're here. Again in so long, back. Faces I've seen over and over. Faces I dreaded, faces I missed. People I'd rather not relive the past with, people I will make the future with. I squeeze his hand and open the door.

~~~

"Is this what you wear to the party?" I roll my eyes at logan and don't even look at whatever he's holding up.

"Perfect," He throws it at me, and I flinch. It's his Christmas sweater I told him was a perfect ugly sweater, "Oh yeah. This is actually perfect. Mines in the closet. I only wear it to this party."

He snatches his sweater up, and pulls off his shirt, "If you're kidding around, Phoenix Weather, I'll buy the fastest ticket to Califonia I can afford."

Before he can put the sweater on, I leap off my bed and grab his sides, pulling him close to me. His skin is cold, as I expected from a Cali boy. I tease him at night when his feet are colder than blocks of ice. 

He stops trying to slide the sweater on, and lean into me. I gently rub my thumb in a circle on his side, his eyes fluttering closed. Mom and dad are at their own Christmas party and left us one of the cars to drive to T.J's. 

"Baby, you're a college student. One who's already bought a two-way ticket to Wyoming. You certainly don't have a whole lot left," It comes out mumbled in his hair and he drops the sweater on the ground.

"You're the death to all my hopes and dreams," I chuckle and find a little smile on his tired face.

"I am all your hopes and dreams," I walk backwards, slowly taking us to my bed.

He sighs, his arms wrapping around me before we fall onto the bed, "Amen to that."

I kiss his forehead. He tips his head up and makes my lips crash with his before they can kiss his forehead again. His arms tighten, and my hand flutters up to his face, cupping his jaw. 

Involuntarily, my hips begin to slowly move against his. When he begins to do the same, it definitely doesn't help we have to leave in ten minutes, ready for an entire party of people. 

Nevertheless, my leg wrap around Logans and I lift my body above his, forearms resting next to his head. I still grind against him, begging the material between us to disappear. His hands slide under my shirt, and I sit up so he could pull it off. Good thing I had to change anyway. 

I let out chests touch, dragging kiss all over his jaw, listening to the gent;e whispers as I make my way down to his neck. I like Logan's fingers pushing at my pants. 

"Phoenix,"I suck harder on his skin, lightly nibbling, before licking over it, "Phoenix, we have to go."

I mumble an agreement and keep moving down his body, licking one nipple while playing with the other between my thumb and pointer.

This time, his hands push on my chest, "Phoenix, seriously." But his words are breathless so I know he likes this.

I momentarily break contact, "They won't care if I'm late. If we're late."

"I do. I'm making a good impression tonight," I keep  trailing my fingertips along his torso, "I don't want your friends to think I'm like a horny prostitute or something."

At that, I laugh and fall next to him, and stare at the ceiling, "I hope they think you're a horny prostitute. Then they'll know I get it more often than any of them ever will."

Logan slaps my shoulder but laughs, "You're sick, Phoenix. Come on, this horny prostitute wants to show up fashionably late not gag-worthy late."

I laugh again and get up to find my sweater, "Gag-worthy late is not a thing. Even if we showed up 'too late' they'll all be too drunk to give three shits. The punch is beyond the legal alcohol limit."

I slip my feet in loosely tied sneakers and pull the itchy sweater that still smells like booze on. Logan pulls his sweater on and pats down his hair, and flashes me a cheeky grin.

"I'm pumped, let's do this Christmas party!" 

Logan made us listen to an entire Christmas album he made before we left Standford. I'd probably heard all the songs through at least two times, and I know I'd hear most again over and over at the party. He looked so cute, watching the lit up houses pass by.

When we finally made it to the swarm of cars around the bright house bouncing with annoying Christmas songs, Logan turned to me with a look of fear in his eyes.

"It's not that bad, I swear. We greet a few people, introduce you to my friends, drink a cup or two of punch and escape. I've done it every year since freshman year of high school. Come on," I climb out the car, and cross over before he's even all the way out.

He takes my hand in his, and I pull us to the house, and into the swarm of drunk, cheery people. Logan immediately pushes a lock of hair out of his face, even when it's not in the way, and I know he's nervous. I squeeze his hand, and nod to people saying hi to me as we make our way to the kitchen.

Luckily, we come upon the man of the hour pretty easily, "Sanit Nick! Where's your beard?"

T.J. turns around in his Santa Claus sweater and hat. The moment he see's us, his cup is raised in the air, and his mouth is wide, "Phoenix! You made it! And you brought...Logan! Yes, Logan!" He's drunk but not exactly as drunk as I expected. 

i smile down at Logan, who has a nervous smile on his, "Uh, hey. Cool party."

I nearly laugh at that, but T.J. just bobs his head excitedly, "Thanks bro, have you tried the punch. Bro, try the punch. Phoenix, why haven't you got your lover any punch yet? The punch is our specialty!"

Now both Logan and I are laughing at T.J's drunk rambling about the punch he's already had enough of at this point, "Maybe we should try the punch, Phoenix. I've heard it's pretty good."

I chuckle and pull us to the ginormous punch bowl located in the dining room, "Yeah me too. That guy T.J. love it. Obviously, we should trust him." 

Logan giggles and takes the cup, sipping it with a look of mild disgust. I grab his hand and search the house for Ace. Logan and I have had a week-long fight on whether or not another person can be as...obniouxus as Gavin. But I've told over and over that Ace has a pretty good shot of being his identical twin in the personality category.

"Oh, there he is," I point to Ace who's doing the world worst dance to Rocking around the Christmas tree.

I look at Logan, whose face almost looks like it wants to go back on his word. I smile evily and pull Logan to the rocking boy in the living room. 

"Ace," when I sing his name, he whips around and punches flies from his cup.

"Flaming Phoenix!" I've never heard him call me that before, and Logan looks amused by it, "I didn't know if you'd make it. Cali girls probably cause such traffic in the streets with their beach balls and boobs and bikinis. How did that song go, 'California girl, undeniable. Daisy Dukes, bikini's on top!'" I raise my eyebrows at Logan who narrows his at me.

"He's drunk. They are similar when drunk, but I'll need to see him when he's sober. You haven't won yet, Flaming Phoenix."

I groan and tip back my cup.