Page 4 of A Kiss For The Holidays

Ivy hates me, she has since year five when I beat her in the science fair when her bicarb volcano was no match for my solar-powered fan. Her dislike for me only grew as she failed to beat me academically for the rest of our school years. Her and her little gang also dislike the friendship I have with Dalton. I've heard the comments they make when they don’t think we’re listening - how it’s strange that I’m always around him, that I’m so different from him, that we can’t really have anything in common and so on. I’ve learned not to pay them any mind.

When Ivy says my name, daring Dalton to kiss me, I'm not surprised. She wants to use this as an opportunity to embarrass me or to out what she thinks she knows about me - that I’m in love with my best friend.

Everyone already knows I’m gay - that’s not a secret - but the way I feel about Dalton is the only secret I’ve ever kept from him, and I keep it locked up tightly. At least I believed I did, but with the way Ivy is smirking at me, it feels like she’s looking right into me, grabbing on and clutching tight to those feelings I keep guarded.

My pulse speeds up because I don’t want to kiss Dalton. I mean fuck, Ireallywant to kiss Dalton, I have for a very long time. I don’t want to kiss him here, not now and not in front of all these people I don’t even like and definitely not because of a game.

Dalton scoffs at her and then looks at me, hesitation written all over his brow. “This is so unoriginal, think of something better. I’m not kissing Asher, that would be like kissing my brother.”

The air leaves my lungs in a painful exhale and my shoulders slump at his words and the resounding sounds of pitying ‘oooh’ and someone saying,‘Ouch, that's harsh’ from somewhere behind me.

Rossi has returned by now and he knocks Dalton on the shoulder, saying, “Don’t blame you bro, I’d pass on this one too.” And while Rossi’s words were said to hurt, I don’t let them touch me because they don’t matter. It’s Dalton’s words that I can’t shake off.

“Think of something better.”Better.

I try to tell myself this is what I wanted - that I didn’t want him to kiss me - but my eyes burn with held back tears and I cough to try and relieve some of the tension in my throat. I didn’t want to kiss him here, but I didn’t expect that response from him either. I’ve seen Dalt kiss a guy during spin the bottle when we were eighteen and he didn’t flinch, so I know it’s not because I’m a guy, it’s because I’m… me.

“So, you’re willing to forfeit the game because you won’t kiss Asher?” Ivy glares at me with one eyebrow raised and I get this feeling she’s secretly preening inside. I bet she’d shoutyou loseif it wouldn’t make her look bad. Dalton looks at me, but I can’t meet his eyes, so instead I duck my head and study my fingernails.

“I’ll take the forfeit.” Dalton’s voice is quiet and drowned out by the shouts of the guys at the pool table cheering.

“Fine, instead of a forfeit, I’ll change your dare, you can kiss….” Ivy stalls her sentence, dragging it out dramatically before delivering her final blow. “Roamy.”

My stomach tightens and I feel sick when Dalton says, “Okay,” and I lift my head and see Roamy stand, a little unsteady on her heeled feet as she walks over to Dalton and deposits herself on his lap.

He chose her over me.

With a blasting of clarity - like ice water being dumped over my head - I realise what an idiot I've been harbouring these feelings for Dalton as if he'd ever see me as more than his friend.

Like a brother.

I always knew being in love with my straight best friend was destined to go unrequited, but this is a slap of that reality bringing me to my senses. Standing abruptly, muttering about finding the toilet, I turn away before I can see their lips meet. And I know they have because Ivy shrieks and claps her hands like an obnoxious toddler asRossi cheers.

Darting up the stairs, I pass a couple making out on the top step, and charge down the hallway, pushing past people talking and dancing as blood pounds in my ears and my chest aches from the breath trapped in my lungs. I turn down another hallway and keep going until I find an unoccupied bathroom where I lock myself inside and sink to the floor with my back to the door. Burying my head in my hands, grateful for the solitude in this crowded house, I let the tears fall. It was so stupid to fall in love with my best friend, but even more pathetic is that I didn’t hide it away well enough.

Chapter 3

Dalton

Roamy’s lips on mine are soft and warm and a little sticky from her gloss and while I don’t hate the feel, I don’t particularly like it either - I don’t really feelanything. It’s nothing more than a kiss brought on by a stupid game and when she tries to deepen it by forcing her tongue into my mouth while grinding her body against me, I pull back and still her hips then gesture for her to climb off my lap. I know she likes me, she’s made it very clear before, as have all her friends but I don't feel the same. It’s been a while since I’ve felt anything for anyone, not that I'm actively looking.

Roamy gives me a disgruntled huff when I help her off my lap then stands, rounds the table and flops down in the armchair opposite me, the one Asher had been in only a few moments ago.

“Where’s Asher?” I ask, a wave of panic washing over me as I straighten and scan the room, looking for his mop of unruly dark hair.

“He left after you acted all grossed out about kissing him,” Ivy says as she sits scrolling through her phone, having lost interest in the game she insisted we play. I have no idea what she’s talking about, I never said anything about being grossed out - why would she think that? More importantly, why would Asher?

“What the fuck do you mean? That’s not why I didn’t kiss him. I didn’t want to kiss him because….” I don’t finish my sentence letting the words drift off - it’s not my words to say.

In truth, I didn’t refuse to kiss Asher because I think of him like a brother - I haveone of those, and how I feel about him and how I feel about Asher are completely different. I only said that big fat lie because Asher is my best friend and I love and respect him. I respect him enough not to steal his first kiss because of a dare. He doesn’t talk about it often, but he’s never been kissed and I know he has this dream of falling in love and having this great storybook romance. I also know that he’s embarrassed by it - by being twenty-one and never having kissed anyone but, he told me once in confidence that it’s not that he hasn't had the opportunity but that he’s waiting for the right moment, whenever that may be. I don’t know what that moment looks like for him but it sure as fuck wasn’t this.

“He said something about finding a toilet, he looked a little pale,” Kiki says as she leans forward to grab a cider off the table. My stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought that he wasn’t feeling well when he left and I ignore my friend’s calls for me to stay as I stand up, feeling a little woozy, and head back upstairs, to where the party is in full swing.

I’m feeling a little sick both from the drinks and from not knowing where Ash is, as I head down the hallway and try all the bathrooms on this level but don’t find him. Returning to the main part of the house, my eyes scan the room, and I press up onto my toes to try see above the heads of the people on the dancefloor but with the movement and the flashing lights and my swimming head, I can’t see shit nor can I make out my best friend’s form anywhere in the fucking house.

Pushing through the crowd and brushing away hands that paw at my chest and ass, and trying to duck away from the few people who stop to talk or drag me to dance, I finally make it outside where the air is now biting and most of the people who were outside earlier are no longer. Pulling out my phone, I go to call Asher but see my battery has died - I am notoriously bad at charging it - and curse myself for being so careless. Panic gnaws at my chest and I spin around in the hopes that I’ll find him waiting somewhere outside, but he's nowhere to be seen.

I guess he could have left but I doubt he’d have just abandoned me when he was meant to drive us both home. I look down at the dead phone in my hand and sigh, knowing that if he did leave and messaged me to get a cab home, I would have no way of knowing. Rubbing the back of my neck with one hand while clutching my useless phone with the other, I let out an annoyed groan then tilt my head to take in the dark, star filled sky.

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