Page 1 of Once Upon a Holiday Vacation
CHAPTER ONE
EASTON
The keys jangledin my frozen fingers as I unlocked the library door, my breath puffing out in little clouds. I hurried inside, grateful for the rush of warm air that greeted me along with the familiar scent of books and pine.
As I made my way through the stacks, straightening a few volumes here and there, my mind drifted to Weston. I wondered if he was awake yet, probably not given he’d worked a late shift at the fire station the night before. The thought of his bed head and sleepy blue eyes made my heart flutter.
“Get it together, Easton,” I chided myself softly. “He's your best friend, nothing more.”
But oh, how I wished it could be more. I imagined his strong arms around me, those full, kissable lips brushing mine under the mistletoe. The fantasy was so vivid I could almost feel the warmth of his body, smell his woodsy cologne.
With a sigh, I shook my head, dispelling the daydream. “Focus on work,” I muttered, moving to the circulation desk.
I busied myself with shelving returns, trying to lose myself in the familiar routine. But every book about love or friendship made me think of Weston, his laugh, his kindness, the way he always knew how to cheer me up.
I leaned against the shelf, letting my mind wander back to the day we met in kindergarten. It was the first day of school, and I was terrified, clutching my dinosaur lunchbox like a lifeline. That's when I saw him a whirlwind of blond hair and infectious laughter, running around the classroom like he owned the place.
“Hi! I'm Weston!” he'd declared, skidding to a stop in front of me. “Wanna be friends?”
I'd nodded shyly, and just like that, we were inseparable. East and West, as our teacher had jokingly called us when assigning seats. The nickname stuck, and so did our friendship.
As we grew, our differences became more apparent. I was the quiet bookworm, always with my nose in a novel, while he was the life of every party, excelling in sports and making friends effortlessly. But somehow, our bond only grew stronger.
He never let our different interests come between us. He'd drag me to football games, promising to take me to the bookstore afterward. And I'd coax him into movie marathons, bribing him with homemade cookies and the promise of choosing our next outdoor adventure.
The jingle of bells at the library entrance startled me from my brooding. I turned to see Laura bustling in, her cheeks rosy from the cold and her arms laden with a tray of steaming cups.
“Merry almost-Christmas, Easton!” she chirped, setting the tray on the circulation desk. “I come bearing liquid joy.”
I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. “You're a lifesaver, Laura. Thanks.”
She handed me a mug of cocoa, eyeing the boxes strewn all over the counter and stacked on the floor under the desk. “So,how many new decorations did you end up buying? I swear this place gets more festive every year.”
I felt a blush creeping up my neck. “Just a few,” I mumbled, taking a sip to hide my embarrassment.
Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Uh-huh. And I bet you were humming carols the whole time, weren't you?”
“I was not,” I protested weakly, knowing full well she was right.
She laughed, nudging my shoulder. “Face it, my friend. You're a Christmas elf trapped in a librarian's body.”
I chuckled. “Guilty as charged, I suppose.”
As we sipped our cocoa, my gaze drifted to the window. Soft, fluffy snowflakes had begun to fall, dancing on the breeze before settling on the ground. The sight filled me with a bittersweet longing.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?” I murmured, more to myself than Laura.
She followed my gaze and nodded. “It really is. Got any big plans for the holidays?”
My heart gave a little flutter at the thought. “Just the usual. Spending time with my parents and Weston.”
“Ah, Weston,” Laura said knowingly. “Your favorite part of the season, I bet.”
I ducked my head, focusing intently on the drink in my hand. “He's my best friend,” I said softly. “Of course I'm looking forward to seeing him.”
As she moved away to start her work, I found myself lost in thought again. The holidays with Weston were always magical—movie marathons, baking disasters, snowball fights. For a few precious days, I could pretend that the warmth in his eyes meant something more.
I sighed, watching the snowflakes swirl. This year would be no different, I told myself firmly. I'd cherish every moment withhim, even if it wasn't quite the way I longed for. After all, wasn't that what Christmas was about? Being grateful for what you have?
