1 MONTH, 20 DAYS AGO: 9:33 P.M.
My apartment is shockingly clean. Probably the cleanest it’s ever been. I pulled out all the stops this Christmas because I’ve been working on the most epic gift in the world for months, and the setting has to be perfect when he opens it.
I turn on my electric fireplace—the first time this season, since I usually have shoes packed in front of it and I am not risking burnt UGGs—and clap my hands with a smile. This year started out rocky with the robbery, but it’s turned into a solid winner. I’ve finally deleted Eli’s number from my phone and forgiven myself for what I did to try to keep him. Liz and Landon are married now, but I was wrong about things changing too much. Even after Landon’s movie sold, Liz has still been just a few feet down the hall, there whenever I need her. Which is not so much lately. Alec and I are still toeing the platonic line, never crossing over into risky territory, despite my ever-growing feelings for him. There are times I’d like him to push me up against the fridge again and repeat that kiss.
But really, everything could stay exactly the way it is, and I’d die a happy woman.
Jinxing something by thinking about it is not a joke, I realize as I dip my spoon into a bowl of strawberry ice cream topped with Apple Jacks. Next time I think about things staying the same I’m going to snap a rubber band around my wrist.
The cold from the open refrigerator pours out over my legs, causing goose bumps and shivers as I sit on the tile floor. Food that I’ve foraged throughout the evening is strewn between me and Alec, and empty wineglasses rest by our hips.
“Why are we eating ice cream on Christmas?” Alec says, nodding at my bumpy bare skin before scooping a spoonful into his mouth.
“We eat ice cream when we’re sad.” I flick an Apple Jack from the top of my third scoop and it lands near a hole in his jeans. “Have you learned nothing, young Padawan?”
He scoots in closer to me, his cool arm pressing against my cardigan. “I can’t say that I’m surprised, though. We all knew this was going to happen.”
“They didn’t have to drop the bomb on Christmas.” I frown at my bowl, jabbing at the strawberry swirl, which looks a lot like California. Curse that place and its opportunities.
“Hmm.”
I toss him a glare. “ ‘Hmm’? That’s your input?”
His dimple creases as he half smiles. “I’m trying to figure out what’s the most helpful way to respond right now.”
“Aloof is not the most helpful,” I tease, tapping his nose with the business end of my spoon. He wipes away the ice cream residue, even though it looks ever so adorable on him.
“All right. Do you want me to deliver an abundance of optimism to drag you out of your sad ice cream eating, or would you like me to piss and moan, indulging you in your fear that things won’t go the way you hope they will?”
I shake my head, biting back a smile. “Curtain number two, please.”
“Damn those bastards,” he spits, getting a genuine laugh out of me. “I mean, really, how dare they.”
“Right? Moving across the country like that.”
“Getting movie deals and making money.”
I nod, scooping another bite into my mouth. “Having their dreams come true without us? What are they thinking?”
His half grin slowly morphs into a full one, making that dimple in his cheek so deep I have the sudden urge to kiss it. A schoolgirl butterfly flaps around in my chest, and I let it multiply until there’s no more room for sadness. I set my bowl down and reach to the open fridge door for the whipped cream. Alec shakes his head as I fill my mouth.
“Wam sum?” I ask, pointing the nozzle at his lips. He gently parts them and I press the nozzle until there’s nowhere for the cream to go but out his nose. I allow myself a few romantic thoughts, imagining that we’re not just two friends who just learned that their childhood friends are leaving, but perhaps two lovers who have no money to spend on a fancy date and are choosing to binge on whatever is in the kitchen. My eyes float down from his cheeks to his open collar and rolled-up sleeves. The muscles in his forearms are to die for. I remember holding on to them when we kissed so long ago, when we danced at Liz and Landon’s wedding, when he told me he loved me in the rain. I stare at his arms, wondering if they still yearn to hold me up.
“I never gave you your present,” I say, voice barely over a whisper.
“Ice cream and Apple Jacks aren’t it?” he teases, coaxing a small laugh out of me. I roll onto my stomach and stretch my arm out to the Christmas tree just outside the kitchen, set up in the dining area I never use. My fingers snag the ribbon and I carefully pull the gift back until it’s against his leg.
“You can listen to it later,” I tell him as he unwraps the USB and sheet music. “I wrote lyrics for it too, but I’m not exactly confident enough to sing them for you.”
The corner of his mouth picks up and he gives me a sidelong glance. “I’m going to listen to it now.”
I shake my head, cheeks filling with heat despite the cold from the open refrigerator. “It’s embarrassing.”
“You wrote me a song,” he says, hopping to his feet like his body can’t stop his inner childlike enthusiasm. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to wait.”
I get hold of his ankle and latch my arms around it. “Alec, not now,” I scold as he drags me into the living room, my legs kicking all the food on the floor. “Don’t you dare play that, or so help me, I will punch you in the butt cheek.”
His whole body shakes as he laughs, still pulling me literally kicking and screaming to the laptop. I reach up and grab the fabric around his thighs.
“Whoa!” he says, taking hold of his pants before I pull them down. I crawl my way up his body, jump onto his back, and reach for the USB, which his long arms keep just out of my grasp.
“Why give it to me if you don’t want me to hear it?”
“I want you to hear it. Alone. Far, far away from my very red cheeks.”
He manages to insert the USB into the laptop and tap on the mouse pad. I clap my hands over his ears, my heart spinning. His hands come up to my wrists, using gentle, playful pressure to get me to let go. He has no idea how much I want to keep holding him, though, and not just for the purpose of our game.
The first note echoes through my tiny laptop speakers, and he stops struggling under me. My hands drop to his strong shoulders, giving up, since he can hear it anyway. Landon helped me record it, using his studio equipment. It’s still fuzzy, not a professional recording by any means. Didn’t help that my hands were shaking for nearly the entire piece.
I press my nose into his spine, breathing hard into his button-down. My face is on fire, my palms sweaty, my throat dry and unable to swallow. He’s silent until the descant, and then his hands, his gentle, comforting hands, find the crooks of my knees, prodding me to slide off his back. He looks at me over his shoulder, showing off his one dimple.
“God, you are off-the-charts amazing, you know that?”
I resist the urge to hide my heated face, and I keep gazing into his eyes.
“Amazing?”
He lets out a laugh. “Sometimes.” Then his smile fades. “All the time.”
We listen to the rest, and I’m grateful he closes his eyes to soak it in instead of staring at me the whole time. After it’s done I rest my cheek on his arm and bask in the silence, which doesn’t last long, because silence isn’t my friend.
“It’s not the best, I know,” I blabber. “It was cold when I recorded, so the piano wasn’t really tuned and my hands were all shaky and—”
“I got an audition,” he blurts out. I blink a few times while I process what he’s staying, and then I grab his arm and spin him around.
“For Broadway?”
He nods, wincing at the hold I have on him. I promptly loosen my grip. “It’s in a couple of months. Valentine’s Day, actually.”
“Wow, Alec. This is huge. Big things are coming for you.” I mean it genuinely and with all the love a person can have for a friend who is going places, yet he must hear the sadness in my voice, because despite the joy and excitement, I can see him pulling a Liz and Landon and jetting off to bigger and better things if that’s what he wants.
“All right, you remember last Christmas?” he asks with a furrowing brow.
“As I recall, you gave me something I lost two weeks later.”
The corner of his mouth twitches up. “You may not have that necklace anymore, but…it still means the same thing it did back then.”
“But Broadway could be just the beginn—”
“I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes flick up to the clock I keep on my mantel as it rings twelve times. “Well, I should probably head out now…but I’m not leaving the state.”
He winks, and I laugh, shaking my head. Midnight. How fitting.
I get a sweet hand squeeze before he reaches for the USB and sheet music. I search for a reason to keep him here with me.
“You don’t have to go.” I fold my arms, adjusting my cardigan. “My bed has room for two.”
“Yeah, I do have to go. Tomorrow the post-Christmas sale at the store starts really early, and I sleep better in my own room.”
“My bed’s more comfortable,” I counter.
“How would you know?” he asks as he shoves his arms into his coat.
“I sleep longer and more soundly than you do.”
He tosses his head back, laughing at my ridiculous and false reasoning. I’m the one with the night terrors, though I don’t think I’ve had one in a while.
“Well, thanks for the offer,” he says, “but it’s not a good idea.”
My voice catches. “Why…why not?”
He leans in close, so close I can nearly taste his skin. His voice drops to a low, seductive whisper. “I can’t sleep with…without a fan.”
My held breath escapes in a snort, and I set a hand on his chest and nudge him back. “It’s December.”
“Still can’t do it.”
He starts making his way to the door, eyes shifting, and I can tell he’s ready to leave and he’s trying his best to be polite about it. So I let him win the argument. But my butterflies are melting into ice-cream-worthy sadness again.
I walk him to the door, holding it open as he steps into the hall. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as if he doesn’t want to use them anymore, but I throw my arms around his neck anyway. We are goodbye huggers, and I’m not stopping now, especially since he has healing arms.
“Merry Christmas,” I whisper into his ear. He lets out a shaky breath, one of his hands sneaking out of his pocket and rising up my back. His fingers squeeze my ribs, and his face burrows into the crook of my neck. I float away and fall through the floor all at once, and my heart pulls a Grinch and bursts from my chest.
I am so in love with this man I can’t breathe.
Just as the thought forms in my head, Alec pushes away from me and speed-walks to the elevator. I’m left with the ghost of his arms still locked tight around my waist. I stumble back inside and fall to the floor, wondering if he’s still waiting for me, or if I lost that chance a long time ago.