Page 21 of Once Upon a Holiday Vacation
As if he could sense me watching him, Easton's eyelids fluttered open. Those hazel eyes, still hazy with sleep, met mine, and a soft smile curved his lips.
“Morning, West,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.
I swallowed hard, trying to calm my racing heart. “Morning, East.”
The silence stretched between us, charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. I watched as he shifted slightly, pulling the blanket up over his chest. The movement brought him closer to me, and I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“Sleep well?” I asked, desperate to break the tension.
He nodded, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah, actually. Better than I have in a long time.”
I couldn't help but wonder if it was because of me, because of our kiss. The thought sent a thrill through me, followed quickly by a wave of uncertainty. What if I was reading too much into this? What if he regretted what happened?
“East, about last night...” I began, my voice trailing off as I struggled to find the right words.
His eyes widened slightly, and I saw a flicker of something—fear? hope?—in their depths. “Yeah?”
I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “I just... I wanted to say that it was... nice.”Nice? Really, Weston? That's the best you can do?
But Easton's face softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing against mine on top of the covers. “It was,” he agreed softly. “More than nice.”
The warmth of his touch sent sparks shooting up my arm, and I found myself moving closer, drawn to him like a magnet. Our faces were inches apart now, and I could see every freckle dusting his nose, every fleck of gold in his eyes.
“East,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “What are we doing?”
He smiled, a mix of shyness and affection that made my heart skip a beat. “I don't know, West. But... I think I like it.”
And just like that, the last of my hesitation melted away. I closed the distance between us, capturing his lips in a kiss that was somehow both familiar and thrillingly new. As his arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer, I knew that whatever this was, whatever we were becoming, it felt undeniably right.
I pulled back from the kiss, my heart racing. His cheeks were flushed, his pupils wide. I couldn't help but grin.
“So,” I started, my voice a little shaky, “that wasn't weird at all, huh?”
Easton chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “Surprisingly not. I mean, I thought it might be, but...”
“But it feels right,” I finished for him. Our eyes met, and I saw my own mix of excitement and uncertainty reflected back at me.
“Yeah,” He nodded, biting his lower lip. “West, I... I don't really know what this means. For us, I mean.”
I ran a hand through my messy hair, sighing. “Honestly? I'm just as confused as you are, East. Look, I don't have all the answers. But I know I want to explore this... whatever it is between us.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Me too. Maybe we don't need to define it right now. We could just... see where it goes?”
“I like that idea.” I grinned, feeling a weight lift off my chest. “We've still got a few days left on this trip. Let's make the most of them, yeah?”
Easton nodded, his smile brightening. “Agreed. Now, shall we get ready for another day at sea?”
As we fell into our morning routine, I found myself noticing little things I'd never paid attention to before. The way he hummed softly as he brushed his teeth, the careful precisionwith which he combed his dark hair. Each small habit, so uniquely Easton, only deepened my growing affection.
The ship's grand ballroom buzzed with excitement as we entered, the air thick with the scent of gingerbread and frosting. Easton's eyes lit up behind his black-framed glasses, and I couldn't help but grin at his enthusiasm.
“Ready to dominate this gingerbread house contest?” I nudged him playfully.
He laughed, a sound that sent warmth spreading through my chest. “As long as you don't eat all our building materials.”
We claimed a spot at one of the long tables, shoulders brushing as we surveyed our supplies. I laughed as he began sorting candies by color. “Always the organized one,” I teased, reaching for a handful of gumdrops.
“Someone has to be,” he retorted, swatting my hand away. “We need a plan of attack.”
