Twisted Christmas

by Sara Cate

  Chapter 4

  Wren

  * * *

  We get into Prague in the early morning, having flown for just over eight hours. I managed to fall asleep after my second Jack and Coke, and only awoke to Felicity nudging me. The grey-blue sky of the Czech Republic is beginning to light the cabin, and I notice a small breakfast tray in front of me.

  “Eat,” Blake commands, sitting up and nodding to my food. “We have to get through customs, take a bus to our apartment, and then we’ll have to find food in the city. I can’t guarantee when your next meal will be.”

  He’s so brusque. Has he been awake this whole flight? That would explain his sour mood.

  I eat without saying anything, watching the clouds disappear and the Czech countryside emerge in neat, green squares. My whole body feels happy at the sight—at exploring an unknown city, at being abroad for the first time ever, at doing something slightly crazy but also amazing. It still feels surreal that we’re in Europe. Felicity is listening to her audiobook as we land, but she immediately pulls her headphones out and takes my hand.

  “So, Jenny told me there’s this five-story dance club near where we’re staying. We should go tonight.” I roll my eyes. She’d asked me to pack nice clothes, but I don’t have clubbing clothes. “Before you say anything about your sad, little suitcase, don’t worry—I’ve got you covered.” She winks and pops her headphones back in.

  I sneak a glance at Blake, and if he overheard us, he doesn’t say anything.

  We taxi, exit the plane, and spend an hour in customs. By the time we get out to the bus station, it’s nearly ten in the morning, but I feel out of it and jetlagged. It’s the middle of the night in New York, and I know the first few days here will be rough. I haven’t checked my reflection, but I know I must look a bit insane.

  The air is crisp and cold, and everyone is dressed for the snow—boots, parkas, hats, gloves, scarves. It doesn’t feel that much different than New York, but it is supposed to snow in a few days. I pull my coat tighter, rubbing my gloved hands together. I try not to stare at Blake’s leather gloves—or the way he seems to grip things firmly with them. I don’t know why they fascinate me so much. I think because his hands are just so big.

  Once the bus arrives, it’s a quick thirty-minute journey to the heart of Old Town Prague, where we’re staying. I try not to seem too over eager, but I can’t help the large smile on my face as we slow in front of the famous main square. It’s picturesque and quaint, with Baroque architecture and medieval cathedrals. Cafes sit on the cobblestoned roads, the smells of the food wafting into the bus. The city is already bustling with people carrying shopping bags with store names I don’t recognize, and before I can truly take it all in, we stop.

  “Follow me,” Blake says, grunting as he hoists our suitcases down onto the sidewalk.

  He manages to carry all the bags, and we meander up a narrow, steep road until Blake looks up at one of the charming, crumbling buildings.

  “This is us.”

  It’s a fairytale—the whole city feels like a fairytale. Like someone preserved a part of the world with so much history, and we should be so lucky as to experience it. The whole city is unreal—and this building? It’s straight out of a history book.

  Blake unlocks the door using a code, and after walking us down the hallway, Felicity and I stumble into the modern apartment after him. It’s small, which is to be expected for this part of the world. There are two bedrooms and one bathroom—a fact that makes me only slightly uncomfortable. At least the bed in my and Felicity’s room is a double, so I don’t feel like I’m imposing too much. I tour the apartment and gasp when I see the view from the living room window.

  We’re overlooking the Vltava River and the infamous Charles bridge—which has all the medieval charm I could ask for.

  “Gorgeous, right?” Blake says, making me jump. I didn’t realize he was standing behind me.

  When I turn around, his eyes narrow slightly, and the guilt of being here on their vacation hits me like a ton of bricks.

  “Blake,” I start, crossing my arms. “I really appreciate you letting me tag along. I know it’s a lot to ask, and—”

  “You still think I’m mad about the fact that you’re on this trip with us?” he asks, sounding almost incredulous.

  My eyes widen. “Yeah. I mean, I know I wasn’t exactly invited, and I know I’m not your favorite student ever, so…” I trail off, and his expression softens. “Thank you.”

  He nods once. “It’s not a problem, Wren. It’s not like the extra plate of food is going to break the bank for me, you know?” He laughs, and I smile. “I’m glad you’re here with Felicity. She won’t admit it, but she was really looking forward to spending two weeks with her mom. I know she’s disappointed.”

  I tilt my head. “Yeah, I figured.”

  He smirks, patting my arm awkwardly. “Okay, why don’t you get settled, and we’ll head out to explore the city in an hour?” I was hoping to nap, but I’d never admit that to him. I don’t want to seem ungrateful. He must read my mind, because he gives me a wry, lopsided smile that makes my stomach flip over a couple of times. “We just got here. You can’t possibly want to sleep the day away.”

  I scowl at his assumption, neither admitting nor denying my utter exhaustion. “I just need a coffee and then I’ll be fine.”

  He nods and then he walks away, shouting over his shoulder. “One hour, Wren.”

  It’s a brisk day in Prague as we head out of the apartment. I’m grateful for my winter coat, hat, and gloves. Even my fur-lined boots manage to keep my feet toasty as we twist through the magical city, finally stopping in the Old Town Square for the Czech Republic’s version of a hot dog—sausage in bread rolls, topped with sauerkraut. They’re massive, and my grumbling stomach appreciates the fresh, soft bread and the juicy meat. I swear, food tastes a thousand times better the hungrier you are.

  After we finish, we walk through other parts of the Old Town, and then Felicity and I ask Blake to take our picture under the Astronomical Clock in the Old Town Square. I try to ignore the way his eyes don’t leave mine right away, or how his light grey pea coat brings out the silver flecks in his thick hair. Every time he looks my way, I feel my stomach bottom out.

  Have I always been like this around him? I’ve known him for almost four years now, since Felicity and I were freshman. We didn’t get along then, and I knew he didn’t like the fact that I was friends with his daughter. Nothing ever happened—nothing that should warrant his dissatisfaction with my and Felicity’s friendship. In fact, when I first met Blake, he seemed to dislike me instantly.

  We managed to be somewhat cordial over the years, and I’d spent many nights at their house, but it had never been like this. Something changed recently. I’m just not sure if it’s me, or him. Whoever is to blame for the awkwardness now, and whatever I’m feeling when his dark eyes meet mine, has yet to be uncovered. Was it seeing me with Taylor a couple of weeks ago? Was it seeing each other every day of the week, and feigning hatred? Had the hatred turned into… something else?

  It didn’t really matter, I suppose. It is forbidden. It simply cannot happen. I don’t even want to entertain the thought.

  We head back to the apartment a couple of hours later, and we all decide we need a nap. He tells us to set an alarm for dinner, and I nearly cry with relief as I climb into bed with Felicity. My body is aching from all the walking, and my eyes are stinging with exhaustion. I fall asleep immediately and wake much to soon to the shrill sound of my phone alarm.

  “Oh my fucking god,” Felicity groans, rolling over to face me. “I could sleep the rest of the night.”

  I frown and rub my eyes. “I know, me too.”

  “Will you go wake my dad? I’m going to pee,” she whines, climbing out of bed slowly and cracking her back. “Ugh. I’m also starving again.”

  I laugh as we both exit the bedroom, and as Felicity heads to the bathroom, I tiptoe to Blake’s room. I softly push the doo
r open, and it’s so dark at first that I can’t make anything out.

  “Blake?” I say into the darkness. “It’s six. Time to wake up.” My eyes adjust slowly as I make my way into his bedroom. I can hear him breathing softly, and I squint as try to find my footing—

  “Shit,” I hiss, stumbling over something and falling forward onto the bed.

  Onto Blake.

  I must startle him because he pulls me down, flips me over, and pins me to the mattress with such force that I can’t understand what’s happening at first. I gasp, my heart hammering in my chest as my eyes adjust to the darkness.

  His eyes—they’re feral, glassy, unhinged. Like he’s still asleep. His hair is falling over his forehead, and my eyes travel down to his bare chest, and then to his tight boxers…

  I can feel him—his hot skin, the rough callouses in his fingers that scrape against my wrists, and something poking the band of my sweatpants…

  We both have the same realization at the same time, because he curses and stumbles off of me.

  “Fuck, Wren,” he says, standing in the corner of the room. “You scared me.”

  I’m still breathing heavily as I climb out of his bed, backing away. “Sorry. Felicity told me to wake you up, and it was dark, so I tripped over something—” My eyes flash to the pile of clothes on the floor. “Anyways. It’s six. Bye.”

  I’d never run out of a room quicker.

  We have a pleasant dinner at a nice restaurant across the river in the Malá Strana, otherwise known as the Little Quarter. The architecture is newer here, but not by much. We’d spent a few minutes wandering down the cobblestone streets, admiring the pastel tones of the houses. It felt luxurious, and nice cars passed us by as we headed to the place that Blake found. We eat pork and dumplings, more sauerkraut, crusty bread, and then delicious koláčes for dessert—jam-filled pastries that practically melt in our mouths.

  I can barely keep my eyes open on the walk back to our apartment. As we head inside, the panic at what happened earlier rises to the surface. I fell on top of Blake, he rolled me over and pinned me to the bed in a way that told me he was a total dominant, and then on top of it all, I felt his large erection against my stomach?

  What the hell was happening, and why was I starting to feel an inkling of interest toward someone who should remain my teacher? I guess I could psychoanalyze myself and say it’s because he let me tag along to Europe with him, but it started before this, if I’m really being honest with myself. Maybe Taylor was to blame, often leaving me high and dry just in time for history class with Mr. Cooper.

  Or maybe it was the way I wanted to prove to him that I was a good student. I didn’t know why it mattered so much, but I guess over the years, I got sick of being known as Felicity’s bad influence. His opinion began to mean something to me.

  It didn’t feel wrong to think about him in this way.

  It wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility.

  But I knew it was for us.

  I wait until Blake and Felicity are done getting ready before I brush my teeth and take a long, hot shower. I feel drunk with exhaustion, and I don’t even bother brushing my hair as I dry off and pull on my flannel pajama set. I stumble into my bedroom, and collapse beside Felicity, like a tired, useless heap of flesh.

  Chapter 5

  Wren

  * * *

  The next couple of days follow in a similar manner. We wake up late, Blake makes us a hearty breakfast, and then we go out and explore the city before an afternoon nap—where I’d since requested Felicity wake her own father up—and dinner. We tour the Prague castle, St. Vitus Cathedral, and the National Museum on Wenceslas Square, and hit up the Czech shopping while Blake takes a historical tour of Prague. I’m sad to miss it, but I also don’t want to leave Felicity high and dry, so I oblige her shopping habits. We drink beer with almost every meal, much to Blake’s chagrin, and sample some of the best food I’ve ever eaten in my life—like the goulash, which is served with dumplings. My jeans begin to grow tighter, and I’m not sure if it’s the beer or all the food, but I truly do not care.

  On our fourth night, Felicity decides we’re going clubbing. Blake protests at first, but we agree to share our location on our phones, and to stick together. We also agree to a midnight curfew. Felicity drags me out in a skimpy black dress with straps as thin as floss, and she pulls on a pair of leather pants and a sparkly, cropped tank top. I let her do my hair and makeup, and I don’t look at Blake until just as we’re about to leave.

  I wish I hadn’t, because his eyes are slowly roving down my legs. When they snap back up to meet my eyes, I swallow at the possessiveness in his expression—and his clenched fists.

  “Bye, dad!” Felicity croons.

  “Be good,” is all he says, and I don’t appreciate how he directs it at me.

  I’m glad I have my winter coat, because my toes are frozen in these platform heels—so at least only my feet are cold. Jenny, our friend from Regent, told us about this converted warehouse that’s made up of five stories. Each floor has a different theme. There’s a 70’s floor, an 80’s floor, a 90’s floor, an R&B floor, and a top 40 hits floor.

  We choose the 90’s floor first, checking our coats and taking two shots right off the bat. We promised Blake we wouldn’t drink too much, but screw him. We’re eighteen, and we can do anything we want to for tonight.

  “This is so much fun!” Felicity yells in my ear. She looks amazing tonight, and the lights on the dance floor make the color of her eyes look golden. “I’m so glad you came on this trip with me,” she says, pulling me in for a hug. “It really took my mind off of my mom having to work,” she adds, looking vulnerable as hell and somewhat sad.

  Of course, she’s sad. She sees her mom every other weekend, but this was her last Christmas before college—and she’d already had one with Blake last year. I know she was looking forward to Christmas in Boston.

  “I know,” I say, hugging her again. “I’m glad I could be here with you, too.” I drag her to the bar. “I think we need another drink.”

  And so it begins, and over the course of the night, we each consume a few more drinks—to the point where we stumble everywhere and giggle maniacally at every little thing. We make our way to every floor, finally settling on the top 40 hits floor. My stomach aches from laughing so hard, we lose our shoes at one point, and it feels like we dance for hours on end. We make friends with a couple of German guys, and an hour later, we’re all screaming the lyrics to a pop song with our arms around each other, swaying side to side. Someone even brings in kebabs, and Felicity and I gorge ourselves, relishing in how good the food tastes. I’m having so much fun that when I see Blake’s angry face across the room as I dance with one of the German guys, I assume I’m hallucinating.

  But then the events of the night come crashing into my mind. Slowly but surely, I groggily remember that my phone is in my coat—which is downstairs. I’d meant to check the time earlier, but then we met Hans and Anders, and time got away from us…

  Before I can register that he’s here, he takes several angry strides toward me, dragging me away from Anders. I glance at Felicity, who is standing next to me, and I can’t help but feel my cheeks heat and awareness return as Blake looks between us, furious.

  “What’s wrong?” I yell over the music, shaking my head.

  He sighs. “Jesus fuck, Wren. It’s nearly three in the morning.”

  Felicity gasps. “Dad, don’t be mad at her. It was my fault—”

  Blake lets out a cruel laugh. “Am I really supposed to believe that? The one night in your life that you break curfew, and of course you’re with… her!” he yells, his eyes finding mine.

  I take a deep breath, and my chest stings from all the screaming and cigarette smoke—but also from his accusation.

  “We lost track of time,” I explain, crossing my arms. “It’s not like we committed any crimes tonight, Blake.”

  My use of his first name startles him. I’ve only e
ver said it once, in the dark, when he was asleep. His head rears back slightly, and he grabs my wrist in one arm, and Felicity’s wrist in the other. Our bare feet slap against the old wood as we walk to the elevator, and I ignore the scent of mint permeating the air of the confined space. His chest rises and falls quickly—like he’s trying to calm himself down. A strange thrill works through me—that maybe he’s not angry because he’s Felicity’s dad and we were being slightly irresponsible by breaking curfew, but because he found me dancing with another guy.

  He retrieves our coats and throws them over us, then procures our shoes that had been lined up by the door. I slip into mine, frowning. I am sober now, and I know he’s going to blame tonight on me for a very long time. I keep quiet as we walk through Prague, the mist clinging to the old buildings and lampposts, creating an eerie atmosphere around us. We only encounter a few other people, and every time I look at Blake, his brows are furrowed, and his lips are formed in a thin line. He’s also walking impossibly fast; Felicity has to basically jog to keep up with him as the shortest out of all of us.

  When we arrive back at our apartment, Felicity rushes to the bathroom, and I hear her vomit loudly. My eyes snap to Blake’s as I slip off my pumps, and his eyes scan my legs for the second time tonight before flicking back up to my face.

  “Happy?” he seethes, nodding to the bathroom.

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, because I forced all of that alcohol down her throat.” I shrug my coat off and stalk to my room. I hear him follow me.

  “Of course, you didn’t. But I expected you to look after her,” he hisses, his eyes dark with rage.

  “Why? Isn’t that your job?” I twist around to face him.

  “Don’t give me that attitude,” he chides, sneering. He takes a step forward, backing me up against the tall bed I’m sharing with his daughter. “I get enough of it in class.”