Page 72 of Riptide

“You like it?”

“You surprise me, Mr. Jones. I didn’t think you were a festive sweater kind of guy.”

The camera pans back to his face that’s splitting with a grin. “Maybe I wanted to change things up this year.”

“Nothing says holiday cheer like a Christmas tree with white teeth.” I chuckle.

Foxx laughs too. His hand drifts down, fingers brushing over the design. “Well, I know you said your family are big on the holiday,” he says, not quite looking back at me yet. “Thought I’d try to lean into it a little more.”

My heart lurches at that and the thought that he’s doing something that’s brought on by one thing I’ve said in passing. I clear my throat, trying to play it down. “So, does this mean you left out cookies for Santa last night?”

He pins me with a stare, but I barrel on.

“Or maybe when I come over next, there’ll be a candy cane welcome mat at your door… Oh no, please tell me you have elf pajamas that match with Eugene.”

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“No,” I wheeze, my hand shaking as I hold the phone. “Don’t go. I like this festive version of you, even if it’s temporary.”

His smile fades slightly, and I watch him swallow, eyes locked on mine before saying, “It doesn’t have to be.”

The air leaves my lungs in a way that doesn’t feel casual. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? “You keeping Christmas tree year-round then?” I ask.

He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, maybe I like the Christmas tree more than I thought I would.”

That officially makes me stop talking. A single prolonged note of silence stretches between us when we’re just staring at each other. The implication in everything we’re not actively saying weighs heavily through the phone, yet I don’t think either of us wants to run too fast and ruin it.

But then has that ever been my style?

“I wish you were here,” I say without thinking too hard on it and just telling him how I feel.

“Yeah, I kinda miss you,” he says, and even through the phone, I see the color creeping into his cheeks.

“Kinda?” I muse.

He grins full on now, glancing away for a beat. “No, not kinda. Definitely.”

“We can see each other next week. I’ll be back before school starts.”

He nods. “It’s a date.”

Chapter thirty

Foxx

WhenIwaslittle,my parents used to throw New Year’s parties for the whole street we lived on. I always remember watching the grown-ups in sparkly clothes, laughing, clinking glasses and popping champagne. I’d get to stay up late, at least in theory, but I always fell asleep before midnight. Curled up on the couch in a room that smelled like perfume and snacks, voices blurring into some awfully sung song at midnight. I’d wake up to someone draping a blanket over me, the TV still glowing with reruns, the new year already arrived without me.

Now it’s just me and the thousands of people in New York City on the TV. Not having much family doesn’t usually bother me, except for birthdays and holidays, then it feels like a kick to the guts.

Eugene is the only person I’ve spent those times with over the last four years. He texted me hours ago to say he wasn’t making it past ten and wished me a “vaguely thrilling new year,” which I think is his way of being supportive.

I glance at the clock. 11:51.

There’s a half-drunk bottle of sparkling cider on the coffee table. I don’t even like it. But it felt like I should have something.

I exhale and settle back against the couch, one arm slung across the back cushions. The apartment is quiet in that particular way it only gets in winter—like the whole building is tucked in early, waiting for the year to end. I’ve spent years in the quiet, so why is it that Finn spends a handful of weekends here and, suddenly, the quiet is louder than anything else?

It’s stupid. Logically, to know someone for a couple of months and miss them, but I do. I miss the way his laugh fills a room. The way he never seems to care if something’s too much or not enough. He’d probably call this night boring, then throw a pillow at me just to get a reaction.

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