Page 101 of Glorious Ruin
“Whatever, Reed,” I muttered, my face burning with a sudden blush as I went back to cutting the paper. “Just pass me the gold ribbon.”
Silas reached for the spool, his fingers lingering against mine as he handed it over. He looked at the tree, and his expression turned solemn, quiet, and deeply emotional.
“You know…” he said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the house. “This will be our first Christmas together.”
I paused, the scissors freezing against the paper as I looked toward him. The weight of his words hit me right in the sternum. Realization washed over me as my mind raced back through the timeline of our lives.
“Jesus, you’re right,” I breathed, caught off guard by the throat-tightening emotion.
All of our adult lives had been spent bleeding for the UWF. Back when we were in our twenties and together, the holiday loops were the most brutal and gruelingweeks of the year. We were always on the road, flying from city to city for holiday night tapings and post-holiday house show marathons. This truly was the first time we’ve gotten to spend it together, and insideourhome.
Happiness erupted inside me, bubbling over and completely evaporating the tension that had been lingering from the last few months.
While we sat there, surrounded by ribbons and torn edges of paper, reminiscing about the early days of our relationship, a sudden thought popped into my head.
I stopped wrapping, leaning my elbows on my knees. “Si?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“We never went on an actual date,” I said, the words feeling entirely surreal as they left my mouth. “Like…ever.”
Silas paused, a piece of tape dangling from his finger as he looked at me.
“Wait. you’re right. That’s wild.”
“That’s terrible,” I corrected playfully, narrowing my eyes at him behind my glasses. “Wow! You never wanted to actually date me, just hide me in the dark.”
“Hey! That’s not true, you dick! We couldn’t. I always wanted to take you out and buy you dinner.” Silas shot back, his face turning a brilliant shade of pink as he threw a crumpled piece of wrapping paper at my chest.
“Sure, sure. Excuses.” I smirked, leaning back against the couch cushions and crossing my arms over my chest.
“Alright,” he responded, his voice dropping into a low, commanding register that made my pulse do a sudden, familiar flutter. “Will you go on a date with me?”
I blinked, completely caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. “Wait… right now?”
He chuckled, a bright, mischievous sound as he reached down and snatched the car keys off the counter. “Yep, right now. I have an idea. So, move your ass, Reed.”
I groaned, looking down at my old Philly hoodie. “But we’re not exactly date-ready, Si. I’m wearing your flannel pants.”
Silas let out a long groan of his own, rolling his eyes as he walked toward the front door. “Sir, you’re fine. Throw on some jeans and meet me at the truck. You have five minutes before I leave without you.”
I stood up. “Wait, why are you driving? I always drive.”
He paused at the doorway, turning back to give me a smug, devastatingly handsome look over his shoulder. “Because I askedyouout, asshole. Go get ready.”
Winter in coastal North Carolina was nothing compared to the brutal blizzards of a Philadelphia December, but today, the damp Atlantic wind cutting across the marsh made it feel cold as fuck. The temperature hovered in the low forties, the air biting at my cheeks as I sprinted across the frost-dusted grass of the yard.
I ripped the passenger door of my truck open and slid inside, the heavy blast of the heater instantly hitting my face. The truck was already on and completely warmed up, the engine idling with a deep, familiar purr.
I turned in the leather seat, fully prepared to glare at him for rushing me, but the second my eyes landed on him, my jaw locked. Silas sat behind the wheel, a proud, entirely unbothered smirk on his face. And he was currently wearing the exact, oversized grey hoodie that I had just spent fifteen minutes looking for in the closet before we started wrapping.
“Oh, you dick!” I shouted, reaching over the center console to give his broad shoulder a playful, aggressive shove. “That’s the hoodie I wanted! I looked everywhere for that!”
As we hit the historic district of the city, the Christmas magic I loved so much was on full display. The old brick buildings were completely done up for the holidays. Massive green garlands wrapped around wrought-iron light posts, velvet red bows hung from windows, and wreaths decorated the grills of the cars that were parked along the cobblestone streets. Even though it was still daylight, and the sun hadn’t fully set, the festive energy was palpable. I ate it up. I leaned my forehead against the truck window like a kid, watching the families walk along the riverfront, and my heart swelled with a deep happiness that I knew was permanent.
When we finally pulled into a densely packed parking lot, my brows furrowed. Sitting in the center of the gravel lot ahead of us was a tiny, weathered brick building with a faded neon sign that read “Merritt’s”. The walls of the little building were covered in large, hand-painted murals of double cheeseburgers, crinkle-cut fries, and thick milkshakes–art which looked as if it had been slapped onto the brick back in the mid-eighties and hadn’t been touched since. But what caught me off guard was that there were no doors. No way inside for customers. “Is this a drive-in?”
A group of young waitresses in retro aprons were navigating the other vehicles, carrying plastic trays of food.
