Page 62 of Joy to Noel
Liam’s smile has turned positively wicked, his eyes glimmering. “Is that so?” he asks as I invade his personal space, intending to resume physical contact immediately.
He steps away, though, holding up his hands. “Hold on, you don’t want to touch me right now. I’m drenched in sweat—the Arkansas humidity is awful already, even though it’s only June.” He reaches out to softly drag a finger down my jaw. “Doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about kissing you, though. I just need to shower first.”
Taking a step forward to erase the space he put between us, I lift my chin as I say, “Liam? Now that we’re being honest about how we feel, there’s something I need to confess.” His eyes dilate as he holds my eye contact. In my peripheral vision, I notice his hands twitch at his sides. “I’ve been dreaming,” I slowly enunciate, taking my sweet time, “about you making me another pour over coffee.”
I give him my most mischievous smirk. He exhales a sharp breath just before wrapping me up in his arms and pulling me against hisverysweaty chest. “Have you?” he asks, an evil laugh in his tone. “Forget showering first, you deserve this.”
“Ack, gross! What? Were you running through a sauna?!” I exclaim, squirming in his embrace. He tickles my sides as he rubs his sweaty hair against my face, and I squeal. “Gross! Gross! That’s disgusting!” I yell, pretending to gag.
Is Liam really and truly drenched in sweat? Yes.
Am I legitimately upset about being in contact with his sweaty body? Not even a little.
He finally releases me, his teasing grin lingering. I make a big show of wiping off the imaginary sweat he left behind. But when he suddenly takes my face in his hands and kisses me, my hands instantly latch on to his chest, sweat and all.
After a short but very thorough kiss, Liam pulls back. Whatever starstruck expression he sees on my face must be exactly what he was going for, because his self-satisfied smile widens. “Good morning, MJ,” he says.
“Mmhmm,” is the only response I can muster. Liam traces a thumb across my lips before releasing my face. He turns toward his bedroom, calling out over his shoulder, “I’ll make coffee after I shower.”
I might just need a cold shower myself. You know, to wash off all of Liam’s gross sweat.
“Now we’re going to raise our right legs into an arabesque, and hold. Bend both knees, and lengthen. Bend, and lengthen.” The barre instructor’s voice coaches us through the video screen, and I find that I’m struggling far less to keep up this time.
Probably because my mind is distracted thinking about Liam.
“Did Liam have fun yesterday? It seemed like he was having a good time, but I don’t really know him well enough to be able to tell what he’s thinking,” Clara says between even breaths. Her arabesque form is still far superior to mine, but at least I’m holding my own.
“He did. I think it was good for him to be around the guys and see some close friends interacting,” I say. It takes me far more effort to talk and also remember to breathe than it did for Clara. She raises one hand into second position, balancing herself on the barre with just one hand to increase the level of difficulty on her core muscles.
Showoff.
“I think he also had a good time when he kissed me last night,” I casually comment.
Clara falls right out of her arabesque relevé, and I grin in victory.
“’Scuse me, what?” she exclaims, turning to face me. I glance over at her, a smug look on my face as I continue bending and lengthening my trembling leg. Clara crosses her arms. “Mads, tell me everythingright now!”
Sighing, I say, “We should probably do the cooldown so our muscles don’t get—”
Clara cuts me off with a light shove, forcing me to plant both feet on the floor. I simply laugh.
“I will lead us through a cooldown while you tell me every single detail,” Clara says.
We sit on the floor, and I half-heartedly mimic Clara’s stretches as I expound on the events that unfolded after Liam and I got home last night. Her love for romance is second only to her love for Christmas, so she sighs and swoons and squeals as I describe our kiss and subsequent conversation.
Clara places the back of her hand to her forehead and dramatically “faints” to the floor. “Mads, I’m dead. You’ve killed me with happiness for you.”
Lying down on the floor next to her, I stare at the Christmas lights still strung around the room. Her Christmas magic certainly seems to be extra magical at the moment. I tell her, “I’m pretty happy too.”
“So . . . howwillyou make this work? What happens when you’re not in the same city anymore? Long distance?” Clara asks, turning her head to look at me.
I shrug. “I don’t know yet.” I try to tamp down the edge of panic that creeps in over not having an ironed-out plan for the future.As we go. As we go. As we go, I mentally chant.
Clara props up on one elbow. “What city willyoueven be in?” she asks. “Are you going to go back to KC or stay here in Noel?”
Sputtering a breath through my lips, I repeat myself. “I don’t know yet.”
“You know you could stay here! You can proofread books from anywhere. Why not join me as an official Noel resident?” Clara prompts, eagerness in her voice. “We’ve loved having you here for so many months.”
