Page 33 of Once Upon a Holiday Vacation
I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that it meant everything to me, but fear kept the words locked away. Instead, I watched him walk away, feeling like I was losing a piece of myself with every step he took.
Before I knew it, it was the next morning and we were on the plane home, the hum of the engines a dull backdrop to the deafening silence between us. I kept stealing glances at Easton, taking in his profile illuminated by the reading light. He had his nose buried in a book, but I could tell he wasn’t really reading—his eyes weren’t moving across the page.
“Good book?” I asked lamely, desperate to hear his voice.
He nodded without looking up. “Mhm.”
I sighed, leaning back in my seat. “Listen, East, about what happened?—”
“It’s okay,” he interrupted, finally meeting my gaze. The hurt in his eyes made my breath catch. “You don’t have to explain. It was just a vacation thing, I understand.”
But he didn’t understand. How could he, when I couldn’t even understand myself? I wanted to tell him that every moment with him felt like coming home, that the thought of letting him go was tearing me apart. Instead, I just nodded, the words I longed to say dying on my tongue.
As the plane descended, I found myself wishing we could stay in the air forever, suspended in this moment before reality came crashing back. Because I knew once we landed, everything would change, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to face a world where Easton and I were anything less than what we’d been this past week.
The plane touched down with a jolt, and suddenly we were thrust back into the real world. As we disembarked and made our way through the crowded airport, I watched him walk a few steps ahead of me, his shoulders hunched, and his gaze fixed on the ground. Each step he took felt like a mile stretching between us.
“Hey, East,” I called out, quickening my pace to catch up. “Want to grab a coffee before we head out?”
He glanced back at me, his hazel eyes unreadable behind his glasses. “Nah, I’m pretty tired. I think I just want to head home.”
I nodded, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. “Right, of course. Let me help you with your bag.”
As I reached for his suitcase, but he brushed my hand away. “I’ve got it. Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the din of the airport.
We made our way to the long-term parking area in silence, the tension between us palpable. As we climbed into my car, my mind turned to thoughts of how different things had been just a week ago, when we’d been laughing and joking on our way to the cruise ship.
My attempts at small talk were met with monosyllabic responses and we lapsed into an awkward silence. I watched the familiar landscapes, feeling a growing sense of dread with each mile that brought us closer to Easton’s apartment.
When we finally pulled up outside his building, I felt a pang of longing so intense it nearly took my breath away. He paused with his hand on the door handle.
“Well,” he said, turning to me with a small, forced smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “I guess this is it.”
I wanted to reach out, to pull him back into the car and tell him that this wasn’t it, that it could never be it for us. Instead, I heard myself say, “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for... everything.”
He nodded, his eyes shimmering with something that looked suspiciously like unshed tears. “Bye, West,” he said quietly, then slipped out of the car before I could respond.
I watched him disappear into his building, feeling as though a vital part of me had just walked away. As the Uber pulled away from the curb, I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, closing my eyes against the sting of tears.
“Everything okay, buddy?” the driver asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
I forced a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah,” I lied, my voice rough. “Everything’s fine.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
EASTON
I slumped deeperinto my worn couch, surrounded by the detritus of my holiday pity party. Empty cookie dough containers littered the coffee table, and a half-empty bottle of eggnog teetered precariously on the armrest. My eyes were glued to the TV screen, where yet another sappy Hallmark Christmas movie played out its predictable plot.
“Oh, come on,” I muttered, rolling my eyes as the leading lady stumbled into the arms of her hunky small-town savior. “As if anyone actually falls for their best friend in real life.”
The words tasted bitter on my tongue, and I felt a sharp pang in my chest. Who was I kidding? I was the poster child for unrequited best friend love. Images of Weston’s sea-blue eyes and that infuriatingly messy blond hair flooded my mind, and I groaned, burying my face in a throw pillow.
“You’re such an idiot, Easton,” I chastised myself, voice muffled by the fabric. “Did you really think playing a happy couple on a cruise ship would magically make him fall for you? It was just a fantasy,” I whispered, the ache in my chestintensifying. “A beautiful, perfect fantasy that you were stupid enough to believe could be real.” I reached for the eggnog, taking a long swig directly from the bottle. The sweetness did nothing to wash away the bitterness of regret coating my tongue.
“You know what the worst part is?” I asked the empty room, gesturing with the bottle. “I can’t even be mad at him. He was just being a good friend, trying to cheer me up and show me a good time. It’s not his fault I’ve been in love with him since... forever.”
I sank back into the couch cushions, letting out a heavy sigh. “And now I can’t shake this stupid longing. It’s like... it’s like I got a taste of what could be, and now nothing else will ever compare.”
