Accepted (13 page)

"At all?" Still incredulous.

"Some people were. I mean, some of them did big holiday celebrations, but I moved around a lot and just never really got into it." It was the most I’d ever revealed about my private life to Colin, and I was worried it was too much.

Instinctively, I knew my frankness would cost me.

"Hmmm…" He leaned across the table and looked right in my eyes. "I guess we’ll have to fix that."

And apparently I was wrong.

"Fix what?"

Instead of answering me, he stood up from the table and held his hand out to me. I just looked up at him.

"Come on." He smiled at me.

I took his hand, and he pulled me up from the table.

"Where are we going?"

He didn’t answer, just pulled me toward the door of the restaurant.

"What are we fixing?" I tried again. We were outside now, walking toward the car. This time he answered me.

Sort of.

"We’re going shopping."

He said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and I was an idiot for not realizing that’s where we were going.

"Of course…shopping. Why didn’t I think of that?" I said blandly.

Colin laughed then stopped and turned to me. His face was inches from mine. He took my hand.

"Ashley." And when he said my name, a chill ran up my spine. He looked in my eyes again and chuckled. "We can’t very well cook Thanksgiving dinner without any food." And he turned and pulled me again toward the car.

Once we were both in the car, and I’d shaken off the daze his close proximity had put me in, I realized what he was saying: he wanted
us
to cook Thanksgiving dinner. I’d never actually seen Thanksgiving dinner; I certainly didn’t know how to cook it.

"You’re joking, right? You know, about cooking…" I trailed off.

"Ashley, I never joke about turkey dinner." So serious.

I turned in my seat to face him. "We’re seriously going to cook Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow? Seriously?"

We were at a red light, and Colin turned his face to look at me. He flashed me a bright, happy, gorgeous smile and said, "We’re
seriously
going to cook Thanksgiving dinner."

"You realize that I have no idea what actually goes into a Thanksgiving dinner, right?"

"Lucky for us, I do."

****

"Have you ever cooked a turkey?" I asked Colin as we walked into the gigantic grocery store. It had to be the biggest building I’ve ever been in. I’ve lived in towns smaller than this market.

"Nope."

"Do you even know
how
to cook a turkey?" I asked with a little too much urgency in my voice.

Colin laughed and kept walking, taking my hand to pull me along. "Not even a little bit, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out."

He pulled me to the far left side of the store, and we started walking down the first aisle.

"So, you want to make an entire turkey—plus side dishes—for the two of us?" I stopped, tugging his arm to stop him with me.

Colin turned to me and stepped so close that I could feel his breath as he chuckled once again. "We’ll make a really small one. Now, come on." He turned and walked away, both shaking his head and pulling me with him. "You weren’t lying when you said you hadn’t had Thanksgiving dinner."

"What?" I looked up at him, confused by his words.

"If you’d ever tasted the glory that is the Thanksgiving dinner, you wouldn’t be fighting me so hard right now." He gave my hand a light pull. "Come on, I’ll let you pick out our turkey."

I followed him. I wasn’t going to fight him; I just didn’t understand how the two of us were going to do this. More than that, I didn’t understand why he was so insistent that the two of us do this.

****

It seemed wasteful —not to mention intimidating—to make an entire turkey, so I forced Colin into buying a frozen turkey breast. He put up a fight, but I won, especially after I pointed out that a whole turkey would not allow room for dinner rolls in our dorm’s tiny oven. He relented, but then started up about side dishes.

"Alright…Boxed or homemade stuffing?"

I had no idea how to make homemade stuffing.

"We’re college students, Colin, not master chefs."

"Point taken." He threw a box of stuffing in our cart.

"Potato flakes or real potatoes?" he asked, but immediately answered his own question. "I know, I know…college students…"

I grabbed the box of instant mashed potatoes he’d thrown in out of the cart. College student or not, I was making
real
mashed potatoes.

"Real," I said firmly.

Colin looked up at me with amusement.

"What? Everyone knows how to make mashed potatoes — you boil, you mash. They’re easy. Plus, haven’t you had enough instant?" The dining hall at school serves only instant potatoes.

He just laughed.

When we got to the freezer aisle, Colin stopped.

"What about veggies?" he asked, pulling a couple of colored bags out of a giant freezer.

"Do we have to?" I whined. I hate vegetables.

My behavior elicited another round of laughter from Colin.

"Just one," he answered like he was talking to a petulant child — which, of course, I was acting like. "It’s not a real Thanksgiving dinner without carrots or corn or green bean casserole."

Ew. I made a face. "I’m not eating anything called green bean casserole."

He laughed again. "Alright, princess, then what’ll it be…corn or carrots?"

"Um…" I couldn’t decide. I looked back and forth between the two bags in his hands, trying to pick the lesser of two evils.

"Time’s up," he declared and threw both bags into the cart.

"We’re never going to be able to eat all of this food." I looked down at the cart and then up at Colin’s face.

Smiling, he stared down at me from across the cart and shrugged. "We’ll give it a shot."

Chapter Nine

That night, sleep was elusive.

As I laid in my bed, tossing and turning, I couldn’t help but think about the fact that Colin was in his bed, less than twenty feet away from me in mine.

Now, I realize this is nothing new. I’d slept here, in this room, every night for the past three months. The only difference was that for those three months, many other people slept between Colin and me.

Maybe it was the quiet.

This was the first night I was actually assailed by the quiet. It’s never totally quiet in a residence hall; the sheer volume of people prevents it. Add to that the stresses of being a college student—freedom from parents for the first time, mountains of homework and studying, the thrill of living in a co-ed dorm—and you’ll find that noise is a constant occurrence.

Maybe I was just really excited about tomorrow—excited about spending a holiday with Colin instead of alone, excited about cooking a real Thanksgiving dinner—or at least something close to it—instead of eating ramen noodles or canned pasta.

Whatever it was, finding sleep was very difficult that night.

By the time I actually fell asleep, for good, the sun was beginning to come up. I could see the sky lightening through my one small dorm-room window. It was a heartbreaking sight.

I’d wanted to be pretty and refreshed for my first Thanksgiving celebration. Apparently, I’d have to settle for weary and ragged.

I hadn’t set my alarm; I hadn’t assumed I needed to. One, I didn’t get to sleep until morning, so I hoped to sleep until afternoon. Two, it was a holiday. No one should ever have to get up early on a holiday. It’s the purpose of a holiday—to take the day off to relax and sleep in.

Needless to say, I was pretty irate when someone—and I could easily guess who—started banging on my door at what felt to me like the absolute crack of dawn. I mean, it had to be some ungodly early hour. I tried ignoring him, but after five straight minutes of incessant banging, I realized that he wasn’t going to give up.

I jumped out of my bed and stomped to the door, yanking it open, meaning to yell at Colin, to yell and scream at him and beg for more sleep, but the minute I saw him and the way his face was beaming with excitement and anticipation, all my anger disappeared, and I remembered why he was knocking on my door.

He looked me up and down, and the excitement and anticipation on his face changed to amusement.

"Well, good morning sunshine." He smiled, a big, lazy smile, "Aren’t you a vision in the morning."

My hands immediately flew up to my hair, smoothing it down as I wondered how awful I actually looked.

"Yeah, I had a rough night." I looked down at my feet. "Couldn’t sleep." I shrugged, still looking down.

He stepped just inside the doorway and reached his hand up to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear.

"I wouldn’t have noticed," he said softly, his hand lingering by my ear. "I wasn’t joking. You look adorable just out of bed."

I looked up quickly, and our eyes met. I felt myself blush all over and wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. Instead, I stood entranced in my doorway, wearing nothing but my pajamas, staring at Colin.

Suddenly, he dropped his hand from the side of my face. I jumped, effectually breaking the trance. Colin chuckled and took a step back. I blushed harder.

"Alright, sleepy…time to get ready and dressed. Turkey doesn’t cook itself."

"What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

"Ten? Why do I have to get ready at ten? It’s the
morning
. Dinner doesn’t happen till the night!"

"Why do I have to get ready at ten?" he repeated, mocking me playfully. "Because kickoff is at eleven-thirty, and we have a lot to do before then." He walked into my room, pulling me with him.

"Kickoff? What’s a kickoff?"

A huge smile lit up his face, and he walked right up, stopping less than foot in front of me. He put his hands on either side of my face and leaned down to look into my eyes, wearing the same look of amusement he had a few minutes ago while taking in my pajamas and messy hair.

"You really never have had a Thanksgiving, have you?" He asked it rhetorically. "Ashley, football is as much a part of Thanksgiving as turkey."

I made a face.

"Aw…don’t be like that." He released my face and headed towards the door. "Today’s gonna be great! Football and turkey!" He clapped his hands together and turned back to face me. "Come on, Ash, show me some excitement!"

I cringed but played along, raising my arms and giving a pathetic "yay" before pushing the door closed to get dressed.

As the door clicked shut, I heard Colin exclaim, walking down the hallway, "Turkey and football, Ashley! Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

I just shook my head and laughed. Today would be an interesting day.

****

"Wow," I said in shock as I looked at all the food Colin and I had bought sitting on what would be our kitchen table.

"I know." Colin’s answering response wasn’t shocked; it was more…awed.

"This is a lot of food." Still shocked.

"I know." Less awed…more excited.

I turned my head and looked up at him standing next to me.

"This doesn’t feel at all overwhelming to you?"

He looked down at me, his eyes warm then put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.

"Nah…we can handle it."

I sighed—I’m not sure if it was a sigh of concern or contentment.

"If you say so..." I trailed off.

And I curled into him just a little bit.

"So, where do we start?" I asked.

He let go of me and, walking to the refrigerator, answered, "With our turkey, of course."

Now, I had done my fair share of cooking in my day, but my expertise lies in baking and breakfast foods — and the occasional box of macaroni and cheese. An entire meal with an entrée and sides was not something I’d mastered. It wasn’t even something I’d tried.

Luckily, as the oldest child of a single parent, Colin had a little experience in the kitchen. Even luckier, Colin recognized my lack of experience almost instantly.

"Don’t cook a lot?"

I made a face. "Not really, well, not this kind of stuff. We’re more of a hot dog and mac and cheese family," I said apologetically. "I can make a mean cheese omelet, though." I shrugged.

Colin just smiled. "Then you’re going to have to make me one someday."

I looked at him for a moment, and then nodded.

"Well then," Colin began, "I’m on turkey duty. Why don’t you start peeling and cutting the potatoes?"

As I watched Colin start to prepare the turkey breast before placing it in the oven, I peeled and cut the potatoes just like he showed me. When I was done, he helped me cover them with water before putting them in the fridge.

"What’s next?" I asked as I washed and dried my hands.

"Next, we relax and watch football."

"No, really, what do we cook next?" I commanded.

I was confused. He’d forced me out of bed at the crack of dawn to make dinner. We were going to make it, and it was going to be perfect.

He just looked at me calmly and chuckled.

"The turkey’s in the oven. The potatoes are prepped. Everything else is quick, so we can just relax for the next couple of hours."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Watching football." I didn’t even try to hide my displeasure.

He chuckled again, this time harder. "Come on, princess." He took my hand and pulled me out of the kitchen to the other side of the table, grabbing the television remote on the way, and pulled me down on the sofa with him.

"So, why do you hate football?" He asked in a patronizing but playful tone.

I sighed loudly, pouting. "I don’t hate it," I huffed. "I just don’t
get
it."

He laughed and turned to look at me. "So, because you don’t understand it, you don’t want to watch it? Somebody’s a know-it-all," he teased.

I turned my face away, still pouting. Still laughing at my antics, he took his hand and placed it under my chin, lifting my face until our eyes met.

I tried to keep pouting, I swear I did, but seeing the tolerant amusement in his eyes was too much, and I couldn’t help but smile up at him. Looking into my eyes, he smiled back.