Xmas 2022 - 3 of 12

Christmas at home is great. Even if it’s… a little different this year. The house smells like it always did: wonderful. Your mom’s cooking is incredible. Kayla is, interestingly, not being an asshole. Your Dad isn’t here, but that’s OK.

At first you can’t put your finger on what’s so different, other than how weird Kayla and your Mom are acting, but then you figure out what it is: Zarya is so big that she shrinks any room that she’s in. She takes up half the couch, and you look like a little child beside her.

“Uh, more cocoa, Miss, uh, Zarya?” your mom asks weakly.

“Please,” Zarya replies with her thick accent. You snuggle beside her contentedly, watching the fire in the fireplace as Mom goes to the kitchen.

From the other sofa, Kayla looks traumatized because of the way the firelight brings out the shadows on her face. She hasn’t stopped staring at Zarya since you brought her home. Zarya wears the hottest outfit imaginable: some simple, classy trousers and a flannel shirt. The pants aren’t even tight, but no matter what she wears, her superhuman physique is unmistakable. Kayla’s eyes are glued to that bulge.

Your mom returns, pausing in the doorway. She looks at how Kayla is transfixed and how you cling happily to Zarya’s incredible, godlike, rock-hard arm. Looking slightly shaken, she brings Zarya her mug.

Zarya thanks her politely.

“Uh,” your mom says, looking at her watch. “I’m gonna bring up some presents. Just so we’re good to go in the morning.”

“Allow me,” Zarya says, getting to her feet.

Your mom’s eyes widen as Zarya rises to her full height right in front of her. She swallows, looking up… way up at her.

“Um, OK,” she says. Zarya follows her into the hall. You sip Zarya’s cocoa as you hear them going down the stairs.

“Watch your head,” you call out.

Too late. There’s a bump as Zarya hits her head on the bottom step, which is tall enough for you, Mom, and Kayla… but was never tall enough for Dad. He’d hit constantly when he still lived here. You laugh quietly, then notice Kayla’s stare.

“You OK?” you ask her.

“How does that fit inside of you?” she asks.

You snort. “Perfectly,” you say.

Kayla’s eyebrows rise and she takes a long drink of eggnog. “Can we switch places tonight?” she asks. “If we get her drunk would she notice it was me instead of you? Please? Riley?”