Page 88 of The Bright Side of Christmas
The room breaks into excited whispers before I turn toward the piano to see who is making the noise.
My heart skips a beat when I see familiar hazel-green eyes locked on mine, a familiar crooked smile on full lips, scruff that absolutely needs some trimming, and dark hair that looks like rough fingers have gone through it a dozen times in the last hour.
Adam.
Adam is here, and he’s sitting at the piano.
My heart pounds when his face goes soft and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.
“Uh, give me a second, will you?” I say into the microphone before sliding it into the stand and scurrying over to the piano. Adam’s eyes and then his body follow me, turning on the benchas I round the corner to him before tipping my head for him to follow me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as soon as we move away from the stage. The high school dance team is doing a last-minute rehearsal in the corner, and the middle school kids are still sorting themselves out onto the risers on the stage, but I can’t focus on any of that. All I know is that Adam is here, in front of me, love in his eyes.
“I heard you needed some music,” he says when we stop moving. He steps closer to me until we’re just a foot apart, and I stand there, awkward and unsure of what I should be doing or saying.
He’s here, helping me after I was a total brat to him.
How did he know?
Why is he here?
Is he mad at me?
“You didn’t have to come, Adam,” I say. I so badly want to reach out, to grab his hand, for him to put a hand on my hip and pull me into his chest, but I don’t.
“I know,” he starts. The dimple in his cheek deepens, and I desperately want to brush a thumb over it. “I wanted to. As you know, I only do things I want to do.” My heart throbs just a bit with his words, and my throat swells. His hand comes up, brushing along my cheek, and I melt a bit into his touch. “And I wanted to be here. For you.”
“I thought you were mad at me.”
“I was frustrated and disappointed, but I wasn’t mad at you. I wanted to talk last night, but?—”
I sigh, nodding and cutting in. “It was a long night. The stage collapsed, and it was a scramble to fix it and redo everything. By the time we were done, I was too exhausted to drive home safely, so I crashed at Hallie’s.”
A beat of relief washes over his face, and I realize then that I should have set my own nerves and embarrassment aside and at least sent him a text. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, I interrupt.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly.
“Wren—”
“No, please. I need to say this.”
He shakes his head, but he doesn’t stop me when I continue.
“I’m sorry I forgot about our plans, and I’m sorry I played it off like it wasn’t important. It was, and you are. I’m not used to having someone hold a mirror to my face like that, and I wasn’t prepared for the way it made me feel, but that’s on me, not you. I was hurt and sad, and I took that out on you. I promise that starting today, I’m working on finding a balance of wanting to help everyone and prioritizing myself and my happiness.” I give him a wonky, watery smile, then shrug. “I even asked my parents to head the crew cleaning up after the festival so I can go home quicker. I needed…I needed to talk to you as soon as possible.”
“You asked them for help?”
I nod, then bite my lip. “It was after I shouted at my brothers and had a meltdown.”
His eyes go wide then, and I can’t help but laugh a bit before I shake my head gently. “It’s been a very long day. I’m just trying to say that I’m sorry, and I had made plans to come to you as soon as I could to beg you to forgive me. I know I’m a mess, and I promise I’m working on it. You’ve been so patient. I just?—”
I don’t get to finish my rambling because he cuts me off by pulling me into him and pressing his lips to mine. Instantly, all the nerves, stress, and overthinking from the last twenty-four hours leave my body. His lips move over mine, soft and sweet, as his hand slides up and under my hair, pulling my face closer to his. In the simple kiss, we share everything: apology, acceptance, joy, love, and maybe even a little bit of Christmas cheer.
It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.
“Uh, Wren,” Nat says in a whisper, breaking our kiss. “Love that you two are making up and all, but the crowd is getting restless, and we’ve got, like, a minute before the middle schoolers start telling fart jokes on stage.”
I let out a laugh and look up to Adam.
