Page 16 of Back Home For Christmas

“I thought you two had dated.”

“No, I had a crush on him. Everyone knew it, including Dan. One time, I was at a party.”

“You? Went to a part?”

“Don’t interrupt me,” I said, pressing my finger to his lips. They were so soft. How much booze was in Irish Coffee? I wondered, pulling my finger away like I had burnt it. “I heard that Dan would be there, so I made Jenna go with me. Anyway, he asked me if I wanted to make out with him in his car. Just like that. No pretext, no flirting, just ‘wanna make out in my car?’”

“Did you?” Jay’s eyebrows were knit together as he leaned forward, waiting for the rest of the story.

“It was so stupid. I couldn’t think past my stupid crush on him, so I let him take me by the hand, go outside and get into the backseat of his car. We were kissing, and I thought I was in heaven. Until his buddies pulled open the car door and tried to pile in like it was a big joke. Anyway, I found out that he had a girlfriend the whole time.” I was quiet for a moment, lost in the memory. I had been embarrassed, but more than that, I had been so pissed at myself for being such a sucker. The older I got, the more I realized how hard it was to have any sort of self-esteem when you grew up with parents who didn’t think you were all that great.

“Sounds like an asshole. For some reason, I thought you had dated him,” he said.

“That’s my life. Surrounded by assholes,” I said with a knowing glance in his direction. “You probably thought we were dating because I talked about him all the time. I didn’t really date anyone in high school. I tried to date in college. Well, I did date a little in college here and there, but I was too busy. I guess I always figured there would be time to date once I had established myself. Once I was worthwhile, you know.”

When my rantings were met with silence, I looked up at him. He had his serious face on, which wasn’t unusual. He was rarely not serious. But he also looked, well, kind of pitying. Why the hell was I sharing anything with him? I pushed my now empty glass away. No more Irish Coffee for me.

“But you and Steve were together, right?” He asked.

“Jesus, are you a stalker or something? No, just because I kissed Steve doesn’t mean we were together,” I said.

“Seems like he would still like to be together with you,” he said.

I snorted out a laugh before covering my mouth. “No,” I said.

“Yes,” he said in the same no-nonsense way that he shut down other conversations when he was convinced he was right. It was the most frustrating form of communication I had ever experienced. It had a dismissive quality that made me foam the mouth to scream in his face.

“Some people are just friendly,” I said while at the same moment another Irish Coffee appeared in front of me. I was already seriously feeling the effects of the first two. After freshman year, I didn’t drink often, so two was enough to do me in. But Steve was smiling so sweetly that I smiled back, thanked him and took a sip, while Jay quietly judged me with his judgey, smirking face.

“What is your problem?” I could hear the slight slur in my words. I leaned closer to look up into his face, and nearly spilled off the stool before his firm grip wrapped around my forearms. At the same time, I reached out my hands and caught myself on his thighs, his thick, firm thighs. Time slowed to a stand still as my eyes met his, and my heart fluttered at the intensity of his stare. Maybe Jenna was a teeny tiny bit right about the whole smoke show thing.

“Whoops,” I said, and then immediately wanted to crawl under the bar stool and never come out. Whoops? Who the hell says whoops?

“Maybe you’ve had enough to drink,” he said.

“I’m fine,” I said, slapping him on the chest. Holy crap, his pecks were firm. I pulled my hand away quickly when I realized I had been kind of sort of feeling him up. My hands had developed a will of their own, and for some insane reason, there will was to touch Jay. Jay is an asshole who hates me, I reminded my very naughty hands. We do not want to touch him. Then I giggled.

“Yeah, it’s time to get you home,” he said.

Chapter Thirteen

“Pfft, I’m fine. I certainly don’t need you to tell me when to go home. I’ve been living there longer than you,” I said. A full smile replaced his wry smirk and nearly took my breath away. I couldn’t recall ever seeing the full brilliance of his smile. I almost told him that he should smile more. That thought brought on another bout of giggles, which led to Jay grabbing my upper arm and gently guiding me off the stool. The floor threatened to rush up to meet me as my legs wobbled precariously beneath me.

“Alright, I’ve got you,” he said. I pulled my arm out of his grip with impressive force.

“I’ve got it,” I said as I swayed over toward the stool.

“Sure you do,” he said, grabbing onto my arm again. I stood on his right side while he held my left arm with his left hand. Then he slid his right arm around my waist. Goosebumps sprung up on my skin at his firm but gentle touch as he started guiding me outside.

The cold air that swept over me momentarily knocked me out of my stupor. I became cognizant enough to realize that Jay had his arms wrapped around me. I pushed him away, or tried anyway, because his solid mass barely moved, while I nearly fell on my ass.

“I understand that you can’t stand me, but I would appreciate it if you could tolerate me long enough to let me help you home,” he said.

“I don’t need help,” I said, to the accompaniment of We Need a Little Christmas playing on the street around us.

“Okay, fine, then do it for me,” he said. His arm was still wrapped around my waist, and I was all too aware of the heat coming off his body and the feel of his fingertips where they pushed into my hip. I wanted to both murder him and see what his hands might feel like on my bare skin at the same time. It was confusing.

“I really do want to know what your problem is,” I said as we walked slowly along the cobblestones. To outsiders, we must have looked like a very happy couple taking a stroll.

---