Page 88 of Holiday Hostilities

It almost feels too soon that the vendors are packing up and we’re meandering back to Aaron’s car. My face hurts from smiling and stings from the cold, though I’m feeling warm inside. My arm is tucked through Aaron’s, and I feel relaxed and comfortable at his side.

“Hey, Livvy?” he asks as we approach his car.

“Yeah?”

“I leave for Jersey on Christmas Eve and my last home game before the break is on the 23rd.” He pauses for a moment. “I was wondering… would you come to the game?” Another pause. “For me?”

My answer is easy, said without hesitation. “I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”

34

OLIVIA

Something weird is happening.

I’m sitting at a rooftop cafe in Ho Chi Minh City, a steaming bowl of pho in front of me and the vibrant city splayed out below me. There’s not a hint of Christmas anywhere, but instead, a million motorbikes zoom down busy roads and among street markets. Vendors on every corner sell banh mi and shrimp rice paper dumplings, the savory scents carrying through the hot, humid morning air. The mingling sounds of taxi horns and children’s laughter from the park feels pleasantly bustling.

It’s beautiful, and chaotic, and perfect.

My layover in Ho Chi Minh City was one of the stops I was over the moon to land this month, and yet…

I’mready to go home.

I dig my chopsticks into the huge bowl and gather some rice noodles, processing this foreign feeling. Not only that I want to go back, but also that there’s ahometo go back to. I’ve been gone for a few days now, and while I’m loving taking in all the sights and sounds and smells, I feel ready to be grounded.

Ready to be in one place. For a few days, at least.

I miss Aaron’s comfy bed. Miss his amazing shower, which is all the more amazing now that it holdsa certain spine-tingling memory. Miss his car, which drove us to that annoyingly—okay,adorably—festive little town. I even miss his dartboard-defaced Christmas tree.

And, dammit. I might just miss him, too.

I’ve been thinking about my magical Christmas date with Aaron (there’s a string of words I never thought I’d put together) almost constantly during this trip to Asia.

On a whim, I snap a picture of the view and text it to him. We’ve been texting throughout my trip.

Good morning from Vietnam! Having a rooftop breakfast. Beats Essy’s view of a strip mall parking lot, doesn’t it?

Looks beautiful. But I’m 100% sure that’s only the second best view on that rooftop.

A giggle—yes, a damn giggle—escapes me.

Another text comes through, and my giggle catches in my throat.

It’s a picture of Aaron, shirtless and clad only in gray sweatpants and his black baseball hat, sitting backwards on his head. He’s sitting on a huge bed in a hotel room, right next to a half-eaten sub sandwich sitting on its checkered paper wrapping. In the back of the photo, Jake and Dallas are on the couch, stuffing their faces with their own sandwiches.

My current view. We won our game tonight, so we’re celebrating with Philly cheesesteaks. You know what they say, when in Philly…

I woke up early and caught most of it. Congrats! Nice goal in the second. But serious rookie move getting peppers on your sandwich

I am going to ignore your shockingly poor taste in cheesesteak toppings because I have much more pressing matters to discuss. Namely, did you jump to your feet and cheer for me again when I scored?

A question that would have once made me incandescent with indignance now makes me snort with laughter. For so long, I thought that Aaron acted the way he did because he was arrogant and pleased with himself. And while I do still believe that he is (at least a little) arrogant and pleased with himself, he’s a different person than I once thought.

A person that I like. A lot.

I was cheering for Perez, of course.

Perez, who I happen to know was out with a strained ligament for the game.

---