“What was that?” she asked him.
Seb cleared his throat. “Like what? Let’s discuss what won’t work so we can move forward.”
Bay explained what needed to be changed, marking the pages as he went through them. It seemed to be quite an effort to keep his gaze from Kara and he spent more time talking to her than Seb, though Seb tried valiantly to reclaim some of Bay’s attention.
Two hours later they finished, having agreed upon what could stay and what had to change. “I’ll finish the plans as soon as possible,” Bay said. “Then we can get them over to construction so they can begin scheduling the building. I’m very excited about this.”
Kara nodded in agreement. After having spoken to Bay, she was even more excited than before. The dance hall was becoming a reality and it would be almost exactly what she and Seb originally imagined. They left Bay’s office, empty-handed this time, Seb still scowling.
“Are you okay?” she asked as they stood on the belt that took them back down the spiral.
“Fine,” he said. Then, “I really don’t like that guy.”
“What? How can you not like him? He was friendly, knowledgeable, and he wants to make sure our vision is kept intact. What’s not to like?”
He turned his glower on her. “Yes, he was all of that, but he also stared at you like you were the dessert, the whipped cream, and the cherry on top all rolled into one.”
Kara didn’t know why it would bother him. “So what does that make you? The nuts?”
His expression darkened, and then suddenly he smiled. Kara blinked. She hated when he did that unexpectedly. It didn’t give her time to shield against the effect.
“I am being nuts, aren’t I? I mean, he’s right. All the males can talk about these days is you.”
Kara flushed and shook her head. “It’s only because I’m new. How often do new elves come here that are my age? As soon as I’ve been here a while, I’ll be invisible.”
His expression turned serious. “You’ll never be invisible.”
Kara looked away. She wanted to be invisible. Not for the first time—or the last she was sure—she cursed the hair and eyes that marked her as different.
Seb walked her back through the snow packed lane to her cottage. There really wasn’t much more they could do since the work day was nearly ended. When they stopped at her door, she heard herself ask, “Do you want to come in for a minute?”
Seb nodded and just like that she was leading him—Seb—into her home. She turned to face him once he closed the door, unsure of what she was going to do now that she had him here. He stood framed by her door, his dark hair stark against the pink color. His height was magnified by just how close the top of his head came to the low ceiling.
His hands tucked into his front pockets. He immediately pulled them back out and then put them back in. Out. In. Out. In. “Hey, Kara, I was wondering,” he began, his voice oddly quiet, “if tonight you wanted to—”
Her house phone rang, and Kara nearly cursed aloud. She managed to contain it and smiled at Seb, one finger in the air. “Hold that thought. I’ll just grab this real quick.”
She swept the phone from its cradle, expecting to hear Pearl’s voice. “Hello?”
“Hi, Kara? This is Bay.”
“Bay?” Her voice pitched up in surprise, her eyes shooting to Seb. His jaw clenched and his hands burrowed deeper into his pockets. She thought his fists might actually rip out the bottoms.
“I know this might be a bit . . . unseemly, but I wondered if you’d go out with me tonight?”
Kara swallowed. Not only did she not want to go out with Bay—or anyone, but Seb had begun to ask her about tonight. Maybe he wanted to hang out? That seemed a much safer choice.
“Um, thank you for the invitation, Bay, but I actually . . . I’m really tired so I think I’m just going to call it a night.”
“Oh, well, sure, okay. Maybe some other time?” he asked hopefully.
“Maybe,” she said. “Good night, Bay.” She quickly hung up before he could ask her about that some other time. She knew it was rude, but didn’t care. “Sorry,” she said as she turned toward Seb. “That was Bay.”
“Yes, I got that. Did he have another question about the plans?”
“No, not exactly . . .”
His eyes pierced her. “Was he asking you on a date?”
Kara only nodded.
“Well, I’d better get going, then.” He pulled his hands from his pockets and swung away, grabbing the doorknob.
“Wait, Seb, you don’t have to—”
“I heard you say you were tired.”
Kara couldn’t argue. She did say that. And the fact that it wasn’t exactly the full truth bothered her. She couldn’t now tell Seb it was only a half-truth. When she didn’t answer, he glanced over his shoulder at her. She nodded again.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
He left, closing the door softly behind him. Kara walked to it and leaned against it. She sighed heavily. She wished she could figure Seb out—one minute he spoke of her being his friend, the next he acted jealous about Bay, and even Trystin. She shook her head and pulled her sweater off, freeing her wings. The cursed wings that kept her from telling Seb that, whatever he might wish, she felt she just might be falling for him.
She gasped at the sudden thought. Falling for Seb? No. Not possible. He was ornery, cantankerous, moody . . . and beautiful, easy to be with, fun to plan with. Her mind went back to their first trip to the dance hall site when he held her as terror shook her. His smile came unbidden into her mind, the smile that lit his whole face and transformed him into what he was meant to be.
Her wings drooped. No matter how she felt for him, no matter how attracted she was to him, there could never be anything between him. She stretched her wings out, the very thing that kept her from being with anyone, ever. Even if she didn’t have the wicked things, Seb himself had said he wasn’t interested.
Suddenly a feeling of being cooped up in the cottage came over her. She folded her wings, pulled on a coat, and ran from her house. She considered going to Trystin, but she didn’t know him well enough to talk to him about any of her fears yet. She had to get to the drop off as soon as she could.
Chapter Twelve
Kara and Trystin shuffled through swatches of material, trying to decide on what was festive enough to belong in the dance hall, but neutral enough to fit with any of the themes. Bay hadn’t called her again, even though two weeks had passed, for which she was grateful. As grateful as she was for that, she was also kind of bothered that Seb hadn’t asked her about it. Now they were meeting with Bay in two days. She dreaded it.
“What do you think of this?” he asked, pushing a shimmering silver material toward her.
“I like it. It will fit in with the overall ice theme, but still fit in with the other themes as well.”
“It sparkles, see,” he said, grasping her wrist and turning it side to side so she could watch the light bounce off the fabric.
“Wow,” she said, awed. She pulled the swatch closer to her face and examined it. Tiny glass microbeads were sewn onto the material, hard to see without looking closely. She ran her hand across the surface. Smooth. “How do they do that? I expected it to be rough.”
“Magic,” he said, winking at her. Seb just winked at me! Her jaw slackened, amazed at what it did to her stomach—such a simple gesture, and not entirely unusual for elves. But Seb, he didn’t wink. Not ever. Well, not that she’d seen anyway. It seemed so out of character.
He began gathering up the swatches that covered the work table while Kara scrambled to get control of herself. She hoped that after they finished this project she’d be assigned in an entirely different department so she could regain her senses that scattered whenever he was near.
Even more strongly, she dreaded the project ending because then she wouldn’t be able to spend time with him every day. The thought made her ill.
“Do you think we should have s
ome chair covers made for the specific themes rather than go with a single color?” he asked.
“Hmm?” Kara’s brain slowly caught up to Seb’s words. “Oh, um, yeah. I mean, no. I don’t. I think just changing the tablecloths, and maybe some matching bows for the chairs will be enough.”
“Yes, good. I like the bow idea. Do you want to have dinner together tonight?”
“I . . . bows . . . yes . . . um, what?” Did he seriously just ask her to dinner? She must be imagining it. She really needed help.
“Dinner? Tonight? Unless you’re busy, or too tired—”
“No! I mean, no, I’m not. Busy. Or tired. Yeah. Dinner.” She was babbling. A smile was beginning to curve Seb’s mouth, which threw her brain into a bigger tailspin. She turned away from him. Better. “Won’t your roommates mind that I come?”
“I don’t have roommates.”
“Really?” She turned back toward him. It was unusual for any elf to live alone, and yet they both did? Big mistake to turn back to him, since he was now smiling fully, his head moving in a slow nod. Her stomach burned. Her thoughts scattered.
“So?” he finally said as she just stared at him. “Dinner?”
“Um . . . yes?”
“Is that a question?”
“Um . . . no?”
Seb laughed and the burn in her stomach turned molten. “Okay. I’ll come pick you up around seven?”
Kara nodded, sure she was caught in some other dimension, where reality wasn’t real at all.
Somehow she managed to find her way home, but once there she stood in the center of her living room, looking around, trying to figure out what she should do. She should get ready. That’s what she should do. But then if she spent time getting ready, that would mean it was a date.
She didn’t date.
Seb didn’t date.
Did he mean for it to be a date? No, of course not. They were just friends. Not involved.
Was it a date?
Kara went into her bedroom and pulled the closet doors open. She stared at her clothes. Then glared at them. What did one wear to a non-date that might be a date? She pulled out a thick blue pullover, comfortable and yet it would easily conceal her wings. She rarely wore it because it made her eyes and hair stand out, and called too much attention to her.
Too casual.
She threw it on the bed and pulled out a yellow blouse that was silky and flowed nicely. Of course, it didn’t hide the wings so well so she’d have to wear a cardigan or jacket over it. She pulled a black dress jacket over the top. Nope. Too date-like. They joined the blue pullover.
A dozen outfits and a nearly empty closet later, she went back to the first blue sweater she’d tried. It would have to do since it was nearly seven. She hurried to her vanity and put on some mascara and lip gloss. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail—she didn’t have time to do much else with it. Then decided that was too juvenile and wadded it into a messy bun. Oh, no, that looked too—
A loud knock on the door interrupted her internal tirade. She couldn’t do anything now, so she hurried to the door, closing her bedroom door—and its natural disaster appearance—behind her. She opened the door to Seb’s back. He twisted toward her as she opened the door, hands in pockets, his eyes sweeping over her. She suddenly felt overdressed, as if he could tell that she’d gone to some effort.
“Wow, great sweater.”
Those three words had heat climbing Kara’s cheeks and she was sure her blush was as bright as a neon sign. She mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “thanks” as she pulled her coat on. When they stepped outside she was surprised to see his sled wasn’t in front of her house.
“How did you get here?” she asked.
“I flew.” Her eyes shot to his in panic, but he was smiling, teasing her. He chuckled and she warmed at the sound. “I have a surprise.”
They rounded the end of the street and she gasped. Two of the reindeer—as in, the reindeer, the ones from the big house—stood in the street, harnessed to a small sleigh. “Did you steal them?” she breathed.
“Of course not. I borrowed them.” When she looked at him suspiciously he added, “With permission.”
“Huh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. She’d always wondered how it would be to ride in the sleigh, flying behind the magical beasts. How different would it feel than flying under her own power? Did the Big Guy feel as exhilarated as she did when airborne? Seb’s hand squeezed hers and all thought of flying fled her mind as he helped her up onto the sleigh and climbed in beside her.
“Hold on.” He flicked the reins. Kara knew a moment’s panic when the sleigh first moved forward, the feeling much like being on a snowmobile. Her hands clenched the edge of the bench she sat on. Then, with a gentle tug, the reindeer lifted, the sleigh following effortlessly. Kara released the breath she’d been holding and a laugh escaped her. Seb glanced over with a grin that sent her stomach into somersaults. “Better than the sled?” he asked.
“This is amazing.” She looked over the side of the sleigh and saw how quickly they’d climbed. The village was far below. The feeling was different than when she flew alone. This held the same feeling of freedom, but she could stay up here as long as she liked without tiring. They were higher than she could fly under her own power. No fear presented itself, probably because she knew that she could save herself if the sled fell, so there was no danger.
She felt Seb’s very real presence next to her. That might have something to do with the joy in this particular flight as well. Her mind continued to sort through possibilities, and she realized that if the sled fell, she could save herself, but probably not him.
She used to give her sisters rides when they were younger, when she still hid herself from the world. Their father would take them to the far reaches of the continent and she could fly. But there came a day when her sisters were too heavy to carry. Seb definitely outweighed any of them.
Then again, when had a reindeer ever fallen from the sky? Never. She relaxed again and allowed herself to enjoy the ride. The wind whipped through her hair and she was glad she hadn’t spent time on it. They neared the area where they were to build the dance hall, and they began to descend.
“Where are we going?” she asked a second before she realized Seb had thought this a good opportunity to work. Definitely not a date.
“You’ll see,” was all he said as they landed gently, almost imperceptibly, on the ice. He stepped down from the sleigh and held a hand out to help her. She was grateful for the insulation of her gloves against the warmth of his hand. She avoided looking at him, too. If they were going to work she needed to maintain her professionalism and not give in to the crushing disappointment.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered.
“What? Why?”
“Kara.” Her name was an exasperated huff. “Will you please just do as I ask and not question every little thing?”
She opened her mouth to argue, but then snapped her jaw—and eyes—closed. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she immediately stiffened. Her wings!
“Relax,” he said. “I just want to make sure you don’t fall. The ground is uneven.”
She realized she couldn’t argue without telling him why he couldn’t touch her, and settled for pulling her wings in painfully tight against her back. He led her for a ways, warning her of jagged ridges or sudden drops, practically carrying her weight with his arm anyway. Finally, he stopped.
“Okay, open.”
She opened her eyes and a wide smile spread across her face. In the center of the area where there would soon be a dance hall, there sat a table sculpted from the ice. It was lit from beneath somehow and glowed in the night. A warming table sat next to it, pans covered with lids hiding the contents.
“Did you do this?” she asked, letting herself bask for one minute in having someone make such an amazingly romantic gesture for her.
“I did.” He released her, and she almost wished he’d keep his arm there, excep
t now she could relax her wings a little. “I wanted to show you this idea I had. I thought outside of the dance hall we could have some ice tables like this, have them be a premium reservation or something, where they can see the lighting inside the hall, but not necessarily the people. We can have them spaced far enough apart that they’re private.”
Kara swallowed and blinked against the sudden tears that pricked her eyes. Not a romantic gesture, after all. Simply business as she’d suspected. She nodded and walked toward the table, pretending to examine it and think about it when she was really just trying to keep the sobs inside that threatened to explode. She should never have allowed herself the pretense of a real date. She knew better.
“It’s good,” she finally said, still not looking at him. “No. Better than that. It’s great. I think it’s a really fantastic idea, Seb.” When she felt she had control, she turned his way. His wide smile caught her off guard and she dropped her eyes.
“You like it?” he asked.
“Yes, absolutely.” She sat on one of the cold benches and grimaced. “We’ll have to make sure they know to wear their waterproof pants.”
Seb laughed, the sound reverberating through her head like a cruel taunt: not a date, not a date.
“I thought of that,” he said, stepping near and indicating she should stand. He placed a pad beneath her and she sat. It was warm. Her astonished face turned up toward him. “Warming pads. But won’t they melt the benches?”
“Nope.” He handed her a second pad and pointed to the bottom. “They’re warm on top and cold on bottom. I’ve had this idea for a while and I’ve had Electrical working on it. It’s quite innovative—and their idea before you accuse me of being egotistical.” His voice held nothing more than teasing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“So what’s with the reindeer and the food,” she said, waving a hand toward the items.
“The reindeer are our new way of getting out here to the site.” He shrugged. “I might have mentioned your fear of sleds when I asked if we could use the sleigh instead.”
A Fantasy Christmas Page 8