Page 43 of The Christmas Letters
Drew leans forward, and for a half-second, I think he wants me too.
Would I truly kiss him?
The last time we were together, we talked about being friends.Just friends.But it’s hard to remember what all the reasons were when he’s looking at me like this.
“You smell like Christmas,” I hear myself say. “I love Christmas.”
Heat flashes in Drew’s eyes, and he tilts his head so his nose brushes against mine. He pauses, his lips hovering centimeters from my mouth, and I know he’s asking permission. If I want this, it will be me that closes the distance between us.
I almost do it.
But…no.I can’t do this. My body might want to, but I just asked Max if he wants to meet in person. I can’t show up just to let him know I started dating someone else and wanted to meet so I could let him down easy.
I have to see this through. I have to give Max a chance.
My hands fall from Drew’s body, and I take a step backward, out of the circle of his arms.
Drew doesn’t resist, immediately giving me the space I ask for.
“Drew, I’m seeing someone,” I say.
His eyebrows lift, but otherwise, he doesn’t respond.
“Or, notreallyseeing someone. We’re just talking, and it’s still new,” I continue. “Really new. But I still want to see where it goes. And knowing that, it feels weird to let anything happen between us.”
He pushes his hands into his pockets. “So you’re saying I really screwed up when I didn’t call you, and now I’ve lost my chance?”
My heart stretches at his words, even as I smile, loving that he’s still willing to be a good sport about it. “I’m saying your timing isn’t great. And I hope we can be friends anyway.”
He’s silent for a beat before he nods. “Friends would be good.”
We stand there, our gazes locked for what feels like an eternity before Drew asks, “Hey Tess, how do you feel about olives on your pizza?”
It takes me a minute to process his question. “What?”
“Olives,” he repeats. “Do you like them?”
I shake my head. “Olives are the worst. Why?”
He smiles, the dimple in his left cheek popping in a way that sends a rush of traitorous butterflies through my belly. “No reason. I think I’m just hungry.”
A meow sounds at our feet, and I look down to see the Greenlys’ cat weaving her way between our legs. “Well, hello,” I say, bending down and scooping her up. “Nice of you to make an appearance.”
I walk back toward the garage, the cat purring happily in my arms. “Why don’t you close me in,” I say to Drew, “and then I’ll let myself out the side door.”
“Do you remember the code?”
“No, but it’s on my phone.” I look down at the cat. “Which is in my back pocket?”
“Are you asking me to pull your phone out of your pocket?” Drew asks, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“Yes? Is that weird? I’m afraid if I move, we’ll lose the cat again.”
“I’m willing, I just wanted to make sure. If I’m touching your butt, it’s going to be consensual.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “Friends, Drew.”
“You don’t touch your friends’ butts?” He smirks as he slips his arm around me, leaning close enough for his nose to brush against my neck, his soft breath sending a wave of goosebumps over my skin. “Got it,” he whispers huskily.
