"I probably don't, but now you have my curiosity piqued." She threw her hands up in the air. "I'm not going to persuade you to do anything you don't want, but I have to know. What exactly do you do when drunk and exactly how much sugar does it take to get you there? Are we talking a spoonful here or a cup? Do you pick fights or are you a happy, sappy sort of drunk? And what's the harm in---"
Her smile dropped as it dawned on her what he was talking about. He wasn't talking about the Christmas tree. He said someone's Christmas tree. "O-oh."
Her cheeks went rosy pink again. Why did it take her so long to figure out his meaning? She flushed red all the way to her ear tips because she found that idea rather appealing to her. But only if he wanted to--with her--and not because of cake. And then she became further flustered because she assumed that when they discussed going to her room later that it was a given. Had she misunderstood him?
Gulping and feeling slightly dejected, she slid off of his lap, completely embarrassed. "Well, um. I'm going to.. grab a plate. You're welcome to join me. If you want." And she nearly tripped as she scurried off.
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