Page 56 of The Christmas Cookie Crush

A cute guy who makes me cookies and wants to take care of me? And amazing sex on top of that?

This might be the best Christmas ever.

I’m in the kitchen filling my coffee mug and waiting for my breakfast sandwich to warm up when Dylan comes in.

“Morning,” he says, sounding oddly subdued.

I glance at him and reach for the sugar. After making my coffee to my liking, I turn and face him, leaning against the counter and taking a sip. “Morning, Dylan. You feeling okay?”

He arches an eyebrow and fills his own mug from the coffee pot, then sips it. I guess Dylan drinks his coffee black now. I wonder when and how that came about but not enough to ask.

“I’m feeling fine,” he says after a moment of odd silence. “You?”

“Peachy.”

The microwave beeps, and I pull out my breakfast sandwich, taking it and my coffee to the table, half hoping Dylan will just take his coffee and go, but I know better.

He sets his coffee on the table at a seat across from mine and pulls out a bowl. With his head halfway in the pantry, he says, “You were with Austin last night?”

“Yup.” I pop the P, hoping against hope that my clear disdain for this conversation will end it before it really begins. The last thing I want is to discuss my dating life with my brother. Either brother, honestly, but especially Dylan and especially when I’m dating Austin. He’s been so weird about it already, and I have no desire to hear more of what he thinks.

Sadly, monosyllables and snarky tones aren’t enough to stop him. He clanks around, pouring cereal and milk and grabbing a spoon, putting away the cereal and milk, then shoveling a giant bite into his mouth before taking his seat. “What’s going on with you two?” he asks, talking with his mouth full like the disgusting pig we all know and love.

I circle my finger in the air in front of him. “Does Lydia ever tell you how gross that is? Because honestly, I don’t know how she puts up with it. Is that the real reason she hasn’t moved in with you yet?”

Eyes narrowed, he swallows and swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “Lydia’s not here right now. Answer the question.”

“So your girlfriend’s absence is what makes you feel bold enough to be disgusting? Noted. I’ll be sure we only interact with her present from now on.”

He rolls his eyes, and I sip my coffee, burying my smile in my mug. “You know he’s staying here, right?” he demands, fortunately without food in his mouth this time.

Nodding, I pick up my sandwich, blowing on it to cool it down before taking a bite. “It might surprise you to know that we actually speak to one another,” I murmur, deciding the sandwich is cool enough. It’s not really, the hot, melty cheddar scalding my mouth. But I’ll burn my mouth if it means finishing my breakfast faster and thus ending this conversation faster as well.

He lets out a half laugh. More like saying, “Ha,” than an actual laugh. “Here’s the thing, Nora,” he says, setting his bowl down and leaning his forearms on the table, his face surprisingly earnest. “You swore off guys not that long ago.”

“Last spring,” I correct. “After Aaron. It’s been nine months.”

He flicks his fingers dismissively, and I grind my teeth, forcing myself not to react in a more obvious way. “Nine months isn’tthatlong, though. I thought you were focusing on yourself. Getting your head on straight. Figuring out your life.”

“I am,” I grit out. “I’m not sure what dating Austin has to do with any of that, though.”

“Don’t you?” he asks, picking up his mug and staring at me over the rim. He shakes his head like a disappointed father, whichis rich considering he’s only two years older than me. Not even. Twenty months. “Nora, you took forever to even declare a major. Then you picked psychology, but now you don’t want to go to grad school.”

“So?” I don’t bother to point out that I picked the fast-track program, and I’m still graduating a year early despite waiting to declare my major. He knows. That doesn’t matter to him. Not for whatever point he’s trying to make now, anyway.

“So, what are you going to do? Why even bother studying something you’re not willing to pursue? What are you doing? What are your plans?”

He sips his coffee then takes a bite of cereal, and for once, I regret telling him not to speak with his mouth full because maybe he’d have something else to say right now.

But no. And let’s be real, if he had something to say, he’d say it, full mouth or no. He doesn’t care what I think. He never has.

Instead, I’m left stewing in the reality of my own indecision.

“I’m figuring it out,” I grit out at last.

He raises a doubtful eyebrow, swallowing his food and taking another sip of coffee. “Are you? Because it seems to me that you’re wasting time with Austin as a way of avoiding the issue.”

I splutter, dropping my sandwich on my plate. “Please, like you’re somehow qualified to tell me what to do?”

---