Page 60 of Follow Your Bliss

“Oh, absolutely not!” I turned away from the shelf. “I just thought it was cool.”

We drifted toward the checkout counter. In the line, Jason’s hand bumped mine, and my heart rate went up. One casual stretch of my fingers, and I’d be holding his hand. But that would be admitting I wanted more. And I didn’t want to admit that unless he felt that way too. We moved ahead once more in line.

My one-to-three scale for relationships started at having sex. So, with his desire to remain celibate, I didn’t know where to place him. I never held hands unless I was about to or was sleeping with someone. Would holding hands skip him ahead to a Two because it was more relationship-y? But if all my relationships were based on sex…

Two of his fingers hooked onto mine. And stayed there, his thumb rubbing circles. He didn’t look at me, didn’t speak. But casually, more of his fingers connected with mine, electricity shooting to my core as he gently played with my fingers. My heart pounded. I returned the gesture, all of my attention focused on the places where our fingers met. Just as he scooped up more of my fingers and ran his thumb softly over the back of my hand, it was his turn to check out. He clasped my whole hand as he took the step forward, pulling me gently with him, and then squeezed my hand once before placing his glasses on the counter.

I folded my arms, unsure of what to do with my hands now that we had held hands. My heart jittered as I did careful relationship math in my head. What were we? What was this? Because the idea that Jason Soniat could be interested in me, even if sex was off the table, was too ridiculous to be true.

But as soon as he signed his credit card receipt and took his bag, he gave me the loveliest smile, slipped his arm around my waist, and led me from the store.

Once on the sidewalk where we finally had breathing room from the crowds, I let my hand swing free as we walked toward the back of Seaside to where wooden shops clustered around an open courtyard. He pointed toward Rudolph’s Christmas Shoppe. “Can we go there? I’m so excited to get a big-ass tree this year, and I barely have any ornaments.” He smoothly slipped his hand into mine.

It was hard to form words, the way his thumb caressing my hand was waking up far more intimate parts of my body. Would I survive a sex-free relationship with Jason? Would he give in? How horrible was I that I wanted him to compromise his morals?

“Sure,” I said. “And then don’t forget you promised me a bookstoreanda record store.” I risked a glance up at him. He was grinning down at me.

“Of course! I like making you smile.”

My smile got so much bigger.

Rudolph’s was a Christmas wonderland. They’d divided the shop into themed rooms, one filled with blown glass ornaments, a whole room of Santas, and a whole section for ornaments celebrating southeast states. Jason’s wide-eyed wonder was infectious. “Can we just stay here for the rest of the trip? Oh wow, look at this Santa.”

Within a few minutes he’d collected so many ornaments that I went to grab him a basket.

“Thank you. Can you tell I love Christmas?”

“No.” I kissed his cheek. “It was not at all apparent.”

I followed him around a corner, and he stopped short. “Girl. There’s an upstairs?”

I laughed. “Come on, you big kid. Let’s go see what they have.”

The upstairs was full of mini Christmas villages, Halloween decorations—where I immediately diverted to—and a whole section of Christmas greenery. Heather, Abby, and I used to put up a Halloween tree when I lived with them. We made cool crystal ornaments, hung up spell sachets and other witchy things. I missed those days. Maybe I’d put my own tree up this year.

“Hey Rose.” Jason’s voice was at my ear as I checked prices on two witch ornaments that I really, really wanted.

“Yeah?”

He cleared his throat, and I tore my eyes away to look at him, then at the mistletoe he held over his head.

I grinned. “You’re an adorable dork. Do you know that?” A family of four passed us on their way down the stairs, and no one else was around. I set the ornaments down and reached my hand up to cup his face, and he leaned down to kiss me.

And oh, what a kiss. Tender, slow, so much yearning I was unsteady on my feet. I rocked softly into him, my hand on his chest, his hand on my lower back. The world was cinnamon, pine, soft jingling, and stardust.

“Eh-eh-ehm.”

We broke apart with asmack. An older woman stood with a fist on one hip, her other hand pointing at a sign on the wall that read, “you kiss under it, you buy it” in old timey red and green letters.

“Yes ma’am.” Jason smiled. “We were just trying it out to make sure it was legitimate, kissing-under mistletoe. It satisfied all my requirements. You, Rose?”

I gazed starrily up at him, only able to nod after a kiss like that.

The woman smiled indulgently at us. “As if I’d sell anything less.” She pointed to the basket at Jason’s feet, which was nearly full. “Would you like me to hold that at the counter for you?”

“Yes please.” He lifted the basket, dropped the mistletoe into it, and passed it to the woman. “Don’t let anybody else buy that mistletoe.” He turned the full force of his dimples on her. “I mean it. That particular one is the only one I’ll have.”

“Wouldn’t dream of letting another soul have it.” She winked at me before heading back down the stairs.

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