Page 75 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
Then the pressure returns, firmer this time, his foot pressing against mine like he’s daring me to react.
Around us, it’s chaos—Todd gnawing on a wing like he hasn’t eaten in days, Daniel arguing with Peter about “technicalities,” the waitress refilling drinks. But all I can focus on is Max’s foot against mine, steady, grounding, electric.
I push back, just a fraction, grinning into my soda like I’ve got the best secret in the world.
Because I do.
TWENTY-EIGHT
MAX
Two weeks.That’s all it’s been since the storm and the weekend I’ll never admit to anyone. Two weeks since the first time I dragged him into the injury room and kissed him like I was drowning. Since I started slipping into his dorm at night, most times just to cuddle and watch his ridiculous Christmas movies, to feel him breathing against me until he falls asleep.
Two weeks of practices filled with his teasing. Two weeks of trying—and failing—not to smile when he looks at me. Two weeks of pretending I’m paying attention in my classes.
And now Christmas break is staring me down like a loaded gun. Three weeks. Three whole weeks without him if he goes home.Whenhe goes home, we both know he will.
The thought makes something dark coil low in my chest. I don’t want him to leave. I want him right here—loud and ridiculous, humming carols off-key, spilling peppermint latte foam down his chin and grinning at me like he knows I’ll wipe it away. I want him pressed against me in the dark, curled up warm in his bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
But wanting it doesn’t make it fair. Doesn’t make it right.
Because I’m the one who keeps us hidden. I’m the one who shuts the door, makes the rules, and insists no one can know.Even if it’s getting harder and harder to do. And still, here I am, selfish as hell, wishing he’d pick me over his family.
I rake a hand through my hair, staring at the half-empty med kit on the counter like it’s got answers. All it’s got is tape and gauze, the same things I use to hold the guys together when they play hurt. Nothing for this. Nothing for the ache that’s been gnawing at me since Eli mentioned his ticket home.
He deserves more than a secret. He deserves someone who can stand next to him in daylight without flinching.
But when I picture him gone—gone for weeks, out of my bed, out of my reach—it feels like tearing something vital straight out of me.
And god help me, I don’t know if I can let him go.
Footsteps tap down the hall. I don’t have to look up to know who it is.
“Trainer check-up time,” Eli singsongs, voice still hoarse from practice. When I finally glance up, he’s there—hair damp from the shower, shirt tugged on half-crooked, leaning against the exam table like he owns the place.
I try to play it straight, clipboard in hand. “Pretty sure I just cleared you yesterday.”
“Yeah, well, better safe than sorry.” He winks, like we’re both in on the same dirty joke. Which—hell—we are.
I set the clipboard down and turn to shut the door, but my chest’s already tight because I can tell he’s building to something. That little bounce of his knee, the way his gaze flicks toward me and then away.
“So,” he says lightly once the door is between us and the locker room, “Christmas break. Three weeks. My dad’s expecting me home, but…” His eyes cut to mine, steady now, holding me there. “…I want you to come.”
The words knock the breath out of me.
I grip the counter, searching for something to say, but he’s already moving, reaching into his bag as he pushes off the exam table when I don’t move. A folded slip of paper lands next to my hand.
A plane ticket. With my name on it.
Eli leans in, casual like he’s not detonating my whole world. “Already booked it. Round trip. Leaves Friday.”
My throat’s dry. My pulse hammers. “Eli…”
He just looks at me, eyes too damn open, voice softer now. “I don’t want three weeks without you, Max.”
The ticket sits between us, heavy as a confession. And all I can think is how selfish I’ve been, keeping him in the dark, keeping us hidden. How much more selfish it would be to take this—to take him—when I can’t even give him everything he deserves.
And still, every bone in my body is screaming to say yes.
