Page 82 of Hooked On Them

“Hi.” I closed the door behind her, trying not to read into the way her eyes lingered.

Should I hug her? Kiss her cheek? Shake her hand? What was the protocol when your best friend was falling for your fake girlfriend who you’d somehow started falling for too?

“You okay?” She set her bags down and took off her gloves and coat.

“Yeah, just tired.” I waved a hand vaguely, not quite meeting her eyes. “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? I think I have some hot chocolate somewhere...”

“I’m fine.” She watched me with that piercing gaze that always made me feel like she could see right through me. “Miles.”

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because I can tell something’s off.”

I let out a breath, shrugging like it didn’t weigh a thousand pounds. “Just holiday blues, I guess. It happens.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she let it drop, reaching for the gift bag instead. “Well, I brought you something that might help with that.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.” I felt suddenly awkward. Why was it so much harder to get gifts than to give them? “Hang on. Let me grab yours.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she echoed, laughing.

I smirked, already walking over to the little cluster of gifts under my sad excuse for a tree. I picked up the one with the silver wrapping paper with snowflakes and brought it back to the couch.

She set her gift bag on the coffee table between us. “Open mine first.”

I sat down next to her, close enough that I could smell her perfume. I grabbed the bag and pulled out the tissue paper, revealing a Lego box nestled inside with the brand-new Star Wars release I hadn’t even bothered trying to buy because it sold out in seconds.

“How did you…?”

“You mentioned it. That you build them after road trips to decompress.” She shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I started tracking the release and got lucky.”

“You remembered that?” I looked up at her, genuinely stunned. Everyone usually got me hockey stuff. Or gift cards.

“Of course I did.” She bumped her knee against mine. “You think I don’t pay attention to you, Miles?”

Something caught low in my throat. One random comment, weeks ago, and she’d remembered. She’d noticed.

“Thank you,” I said, fingers still brushing the box. “This is... perfect.”

“You’re welcome.” Her smile softened. “Now gimme.”

I handed her my gift, nervous in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

She tore into it with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old, making me smile for real. Inside was a leather-bound journal, the cover buttery soft and embossed with a simple butterfly pattern. She ran her fingers over it.

“I thought you might want to document everything,” I said quietly. “It’s acid-free paper so it’ll last forever.”

She looked up at me, eyes shining. “It’s beautiful.”

I gave a small shrug, unsure how to sit still under her attention.

She traced the edge of the journal for a second, then tilted her head. “Now are you going to tell me what’s really going on with you?”

I tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sigh. “That obvious, huh?”

“To me? Yes.”

I leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know where I fit anymore, Nora.”

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