Well, we made it to the end of our 12 Days of Christmas. We’re going to pump the brakes a little, but still shooting for 3 or 4 updates a week. For now, here’s the latest chapter in this absolute disaster of a story, “12 years since they last saw each other”
– Richard
The rest of December was too busy for Chelsea to get into any more scenes with Arnold. They had a few quickies, and she sent him a few pictures in the outfits she dug out from under the bed, but it was mostly work and getting ready for the holidays. Chelsea saw Mark a few more times, but even Bonnie was tired of hearing about it.
“What do you want me to say, Chel?” she asked. “He’s been in town for two months at this point, and other than bumping into you at the haunted house he hasn’t talked to you once!”
“What about Hannah?”
“What about her? They’re dating or hooking up or whatever. She seems to be enjoying it. As far as I know he’s not doing anything she doesn’t want. There’s only so many people in town, it’d be pretty hard for him to not hook up with someone you know. Do you expect him to be celibate?”
“I expect him to stay gone! He can’t just ghost me and then show up out of nowhere!”
“So tell him that! Ask him what happened! You’ve gotten drunk and cried about it every year for twelve years, and now you finally have a chance to yell that in his face, and you’re sitting here paying for my coffee and cruller and ranting like he was the mastermind behind 9/11 or something!”
“And then he’ll be walking me on a leash right next to Hannah.”
“He’s not walking Hannah on anything. And if he does, so what? He’s allowed to walk her if they want. Hell, you’d probably like it.”
“What about Arnold?”
“I don’t know. He’s… nice… But you never seemed to have that spark with him. We all figured you’d date him for a couple months and then go back to someone more like Mark.”
“Why didn’t you ever say that?”
“We did. Every time you cried about Mark. We’d say, ‘Go to a munch, Chelsea,’ or ‘Get on Fetlife, Chelsea,’ and then we cleaned you up, threw you in bed, and the next morning you acted like it never happened.”
“So you want me to what? Break up with Arnold and get back with Mark.”
“No. You clearly want to do that. Or a part of you does. Because you’re obsessed with him. I want you to go get paddled once or twice a month so you’ll be less high strung, and I don’t really care who does it. Probably not Mark. Maybe Arnold. I don’t know. I’m not you. And have you seen my dating life? I’m the last person you should be asking for advice.”
“He’s getting better.”
“What?”
“Mark. We’re working on it. He likes costumes, and roleplay, and he can take charge when he’s in the right mood.”
“Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”
They finished eating and hugged before heading out. Chelsea walked by the nursery on her way home. An older woman was arranging poinsettias in the window.
“Is that Chelsea Archer?” she said, waving when she spotted Chelsea.
Chelsea took a step forward. “I… yes… I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“I’m Mark’s mom, June. He brought you around a couple times when you were dating. Have you seen him lately? He’s back in town.”
“Oh, that was him?” Chelsea said, laughing nervously. “I saw a guy who looked just liked him, but I didn’t think he’d come back.”
“Me neither. Seemed like all he wanted to do was get out of here. But I think he’s settling down now that he’s gotten older. I’ll tell him you stopped by. Can I get you anything?”
Chelsea had what could generously be described as a black thumb. “Ummm, something that I won’t kill?”
June picked up a poinsettia. “Take one of these. They’re pretty hardy. But if it does die, no one expects you to keep it after Christmas anyway.” She carried it to the checkout and rang it up, “And ten percent friends and family discount. Mark’s brought home plenty of girls over the years, but I think you were always special to him.”
Chelsea flushed redder than the plant, mumbled a thank you, paid, and ran off with it.
It was still alive a few weeks later (thanks to Arnold) when they were getting dressed for a New Years Eve party.
“You sure this is slutty enough?” Chelsea asked, spinning around so the oversized t-shirt she was wearing lifted up to show the shorts that barely covered her ass.
“I’m sure. It’s not an orgy,” said Arnold, pulling on a nightcap to finish his Scrooge ensemble.
“Any party can be an orgy if you try hard enough.”
He gave her a playful swat on the ass and she wriggled her butt to ask for more.
“Be good! We’re going to be late!”
“I’m sure we’ll make it by midnight. Even I’m not horny enough to have sexy for six hours.”
Arnold rolled his eyes and they headed down to the car.
“Am I finally going to meet your mysterious crush? All I’ve heard for a month is Pete this and Pete that.”
“It’s not a crush. But yes, he should be there.”
“I’m sure that no matter how good he is as Magic I can whoop him at Rummikub.”
Arnold laughed, “I guess we’ll find out. Maybe you can go to tiddlywinks for a tie-breaker.”
The New Years Party was at Jenny’s house, the site of Arnold and his friends’ regular game days. The theme was a 90s teenage slumber party, and the back of the car was full of retro board games, along with Arnold’s N64.
They milled around for a bit, grabbing drinks and catching up, when Chelsea heard the door open and a bell jingling.
Hannah stepped in, dressed in a cat kigurumi, with a small collar and bell on her neck.
“Pete!” Arnold yelled, as Mark came in behind her.
J R Vincente 