HOLLY
“Alright,” said Logan, taking the Santa hat from Dylan’s head. He plopped it down on his own and pulled it tight. It barely fit. “My turn.”
We watched as he took his place in front of tree, kicking aside a big pile of discarded wrapping paper. Everyone else had gone already. Everyone else had given their gifts.
“Best for last?” Bradley asked hopefully.
“You’ll soon find out.”
Logan’s studio apartment was bigger than five of mine, a contemporary masterpiece of steel and glass. Every piece of furniture looked clean and unused. Every smooth surface and countertop gleamed with newness. I knew it was because he seldom spent time here. That he worked so much, and so often, he barely used his place, except to sleep.
“Who wants to go first?”
I glanced up at the clock. It was almost mi
