Page 64 of If It Can't Be Us

“Deal,” he replies with a wink.

We had so much fun at the Christkindlmarket. The whole experience was magical, with charming little shops that looked like Christmas cottages, phenomenal comfort food, and treats. Of course, the mulled wine was a highlight for us. We loved supporting that vendor. Despite the cold, the wine warmed us up as we walked side by side, my arm linked with Leo’s, exploring each row of shops. Christmas lights glittered all around us, and festive music played in the background. It was a great time. Ipicked up some adorable ornaments for my bare tree at home, as well as gifts for Sarah, my mom, and Ben’s mom.

It’s almost nine, and I mentally tally the hours we’ve been out. “Technically, I’ve only had one drink per hour, which isn’t all that terrible.” Leo has had much more than I have, but he’s also bigger and handles his alcohol much better than I do.

“That’s not so bad at all. Should we pound this and get going?”

I grimace, “Ugh. I never want to pound anything, Leo—let alone wine.”

“Ah, come on. We can get home and watch a movie.”

“No,” I say, pointing my fork at him again. “You promised you’d teach me more self-defense tonight.” My fork is inches from his face.

He swats the fork away. “God, you’re like a toddler with that thing. You’re going to scratch my eyes out. I don’t know, Viv, I might be too tired for self-defense. I’m still jet-lagged. You might be able to take me tonight.”

I laugh, stick the fork in my mouth, and slowly pull it out, examining it, confused. There’s no food on it, and suddenly, I’m acutely aware of how drunk I am. “Oh God,” I say, laughing, “I didn’t have any food on that.” I let my face fall into my hand, my elbow resting on the bar.

Leo folds his arms and leans back, suppressing his laughter. “Dinner and a show,” he says with a grin.

“Okay, get me out of here. I’m about to get borderline embarrassing,” I say, pushing my wine glass away and chugging the water in front of me.

Leo’s shoulders shake with laughter as he tries to contain himself. “My life must have been so dull before we met.” He picks up my empty fork and moves it toward my mouth. “Here, why don’t you have one more bite?” His laughter becomes uncontrollable as I smack my lips shut, and he tries to press the empty fork into my mouth. He eventually drops the fork, squeezes the bridge of his nose, and bows his head, laughing heartily.

I belt out my own giggles. “Fuck off,” I say, playfully shoving him and wiping tears from my eyes.

Luckily, no one is next to us, and Leo is at the end of the bar, but we’re starting to make a scene.

Leo gathers his wits. “We’ve got to get out of here before I end up kicking myself out. We’d deserve it.” He slaps a hundred down for Noah, grabs our coats off the backs of our chairs, and links his arm with mine. Thank God because I need it for balance.

The bitter cold bites at my skin, like a cold plunge to the face, making me grateful for the alcohol. I know it would feel much colder if I were sober. The ten-minute walk takes us almost twenty because of my drunken state. By the time we reach our row of townhouses, I do feel a bit more sober—still drunk, but less so.

“Your house or mine?” I ask as we approach his townhouse.

“Yours, of course. You have more food in your fridge.”

“True that. Though, apparently I’m like the Lost Boys fromHooktonight—pretending to have a feast and eating imaginary food,” I say, sending a flood of giggles through me again.

Leo chuckles along with me. “God. What are we going to do with you?”

We walk through my front door. As I reach down to unzip my boots, I lose my balance trying to take one off. Leo’s strong hands wrap around my waist, steadying me.

“You okay there, Walker?”

“Yes! I just lost my balance trying to get these damn boots off!” I yank on one, and it goes flying into the wall.

I give up, moving to the living room, where I plop down on the rug and lift the other foot in the air. “Can you help me?” I plead, making a pouting face.

Leo grins at me. “Oh, I rather enjoy watching you struggle.”

“You know I could kick you in the dick right now, right?” I make a kicking motion toward him as he cups his junk.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he chuckles, grabbing my foot to hold it steady. With one swift motion, he pulls off my boot while I try to trip him with my other leg. But he’s too quick and not nearly as drunk as I am.

“Oh, you wanna do this, huh?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye.

“Bring it on, tough guy,” I taunt back, wiggling my foot free from his grip.

He lunges, and I roll to the side, laughing as I scramble away. But he’s faster, pinning me to the floor with ease. His hands grip my wrists, his body hovering just above mine, and I can feel the heat radiating off him.

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