Page 89 of When in December

“Nothing,” I said with a shrug. “I was just wondering, since when do you have manners?”

“I’m not an asshole all the time.”

“Just to me?” I asked.

“You’re a special case. Your parents were nice.”

“Since when was I not nice to you?”

“Not the same,” Aaron said, glancing at me again. He chuckled, and for a moment, the tension between us dissipated. “I can’t help it if you make it so easy.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, is that so?”

His eyes glanced down to my lips, painted a glossy red.

My breath hitched, wondering if he was thinking about the same thing I was—the last time we had sat this close to one another. Our lips touching, fitting so perfectly against each other’s. So soft and smooth like—like?—

“Can’t decide if I like the duck robe or this better.”

“Right.” I shook myself out of it. I forced a laugh. I reached for the dial on the radio, turning the volume up before I looked down at the gearshift, still in park. “Ready to go?”

twenty

. . .

Aaron

“Oh, look, it’s the lovebirds!”Barrett swung open the front door toward us.

I was about to throw a swing at my best friend. If not for the comment, then for the ridiculous oversize Christmas sweater he had on with a huge reindeer with light-up antlers.

Poppy stepped inside the house without a word, slipping her coat off to hang off the edge of an armchair that had a pile of others.

“What the hell, man?” I nudged Barrett in the shoulder.

He chuckled, already red in the face, likely from too many cups of holiday punch. “I thought it was funny.”

Maybe it would’ve been a few weeks ago. But this past week … everything felt … different.

I couldn’t even pinpoint what kind of different. Just different. And it was no wonder.

I’d kissed Poppy Owens.

I kissed the homemaker. I kissed the interior designer. I kissed Snow Angel, who still made the corner of my mouth twitch like I wanted to smile for some stupid reason.

I kissed Poppy Owens, and the moment I did, I felt like I’d been transported back to ten years ago, when everything was okay and right and felt good.

No, that wasn’t right.

It feltfucking amazing.

I’d kissed her.

Now, after days of forcing myself to maintain my distance —knowing if we got too close, I would be ready to bend her over the counter and kiss the hell out of her again— my heart hammered in my chest in a way it hadn’t since I had been overseas.

Hours ago, I’d almost considered backing out on this whole thing. What was I thinking, inviting her along to Barrett’s party? She wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d canceled. No one would’ve been. Not even her parents, who had looked at me like they couldn’t quite figure out my problem.

Consider that a universal problem.

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