Merry Cherry Christmas - Keira Andrews Page 0,11

by Jeremy trying on a bigger pair of black glasses. He sat up straighter. “Oh yeah. Love that look.”

Jeremy leaned in closer to the mirror, his jacket riding up even more. “You think?”

“Hell yeah. I like that classic vibe, but not too thick and chunky on the plastic. They still look sleek. It’s hot. The big, dark frames really make your eyes pop.”

Said hazel eyes widened a fraction. “Mine?”

“No, that lady over there who’s been bitching out the salesgirl for five minutes about a scratch on her new glasses as if she wasn’t the one who dropped them.”

Jeremy laughed. “Shh!” He turned back to the mirror until he was only a few inches away. “You don’t think they, like, take over my face?”

Max stood behind him for a closer look. “No. I think they bring more attention. Your other ones are just there. No statement. No style. Just functional. These are like, ‘Bam! I’ve got glasses, bitch!’”

“Right.” Jeremy bit his lip, and damn, that was adorable.

“Trust me, these are keepers. But it’s up to you.”

“I guess it can’t hurt to try something new.”

“That’s the whole idea, right? You’re going to get laid in no time.”

A middle-aged couple nearby laughed, and Jeremy ducked his head. He fished out his old glasses and put them on, but Max stopped him.

“Put the new ones on and gimme your phone for a sec,” Max said. When Jeremy handed it over, Max swiped up for the camera and told him to smile. He took a few shots and examined them, quickly determining the winner and deleting the others. He gave back the phone after Jeremy slipped his old glasses back on. “There’s your next Instagram post. What’s your handle? I’ll follow you.”

“Oh. Um, it’s ‘Jeremy-underscore-science-nerd.’ I know, I know.”

“What? It’s cute. Very on brand.” Max opened the app on his phone and searched the user name. “Request sent.” He watched as Jeremy checked his app.

Jeremy laughed, his eyebrows shooting up above the metal rims. “Future-lawyer-jock,” he read. “Guess that’s on brand too.”

“Yup.” Max smiled, but unease nagged. Was he a future lawyer? Would he have to change his social media handles if he didn’t go to law school?

As if that’s what I should be worried about.

“I’m sure you did great on the LSATs.”

He blinked at Jeremy in surprise. “Guess I can’t hide it, huh? Thanks.” Max sidestepped a woman in a puffy winter parka dragging a wailing kid wearing light-up reindeer antlers. “Anyway, we should get your order in and get to Winners.”

They sat at one of the desks and an optician took Jeremy’s eye measurements with a ruler-looking thingy. Jeremy had pulled up his prescription on his phone, the photo in a text thread. The phone was sitting on the desk, and Max glanced at the messages.

Okay, he more than glanced. Curiosity spiked the ball in the end zone and he went into creeper mode, reading the visible messages. The first was from Jeremy, a polite hello and asking how everyone was, then the request for the prescription photo. Then his mother’s response.

We’re fine. Busy packing. You’re still covered on our insurance, so send me the receipt. Try to be more careful with this pair. Let us know when you have your exam results.

Max quickly looked away and spun a carousel of reading glasses on the corner of the desk, squirming in guilt for having read the texts. Which were weird. Like, they were polite, and it was good his parents weren’t making him pay for the new glasses. But then there was the dig about being more careful. And busy packing for what? But then she wanted to know about Jeremy’s exams. There was this push and pull.

Jeremy had said he was going to be alone for the holidays, so whatever his family was busy packing for, apparently he wasn’t going? Was he going to be stuck in res? Max supposed there would be a handful of other people there, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? Maybe he’d actually make friends with some of them. Maybe.

The optician said the new glasses could be delivered express by the end of day on Monday and rang up Jeremy’s order. He paid with a credit card, and Max wondered if that was a card his parents paid off. Obviously none of his business, but Jeremy hadn’t mentioned having a job. They headed out, walking a few blocks to Spadina to catch the streetcar.

There were glittery wreaths on lampposts and greenery with red berries in planters