Page 80 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
“Jesus, Eli,” he mutters, but the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Relax,” I say, bumping his arm with my shoulder. “Not gonna scandalize the innocent cinnamon rolls. Just saying… It’s kinda nice. Being out here. Just us. Not hiding.”
Something flickers in his eyes, and my chest goes warm. I don’t push—he’s already giving me more than I thought he ever would.
Instead, I point to a newsstand up ahead. “Want me to buy you one of those neck pillows? Bright pink. With sequins. Real incognito.”
He exhales a laugh—low, reluctant, but real—and I swear it’s better than anything else I could’ve gotten for Christmas.
THIRTY
MAX
Eli’s pressedto the window, beanie tugged low, hoodie swallowing him whole. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, the way his knee bounces and his breath fogs the glass like a little kid.
“Do you think you could jump on them?” he asks suddenly, nodding toward the clouds outside. “Like—if you fell, would it be soft? They look like pillows.”
I drag my gaze off him, because I’ve been staring too long already, and lean back in my seat with a grunt. “They’re just water vapor, Starling. You’d go straight through and keep falling. Not exactly a soft landing.”
He twists toward me, eyes wide, staring at me like I just ruined Santa for him. “So no giant pillow fort in the sky?”
“Only if you like your pillow fort at terminal velocity,” I deadpan.
“You don’t know that. You’ve never tried.”
“I’m pretty sure gravity works the same for everyone, Princess.”
That earns me the smile—the one that makes his eyes crinkle and my chest feel too small. “Grinch logic,” he says, then nudgesmy arm until I glance at him again. “You could at least pretend with me. Just once.”
I glance at him again despite myself. “Fine. Pillows. Biggest, softest pillows you’ve ever seen. Happy now?”
His whole face lights up. “See? Was that so hard?”
Yeah. Harder than he’ll ever know. Because here, thousands of feet in the air with no one watching, no team, no coaches, no rules—he’s not just the guy I should keep my distance from. He’s the man beside me, and it feels too easy to imagine this being real.
“Feels weird,” he murmurs after a beat, voice quieter than his usual sunshine self. “Being out here where no one knows us. Like we could…you know. Just be.”
His words lodge in my throat, similar to what he already said earlier, but no teasing edge to them, and they do things to me. Dangerous, hopeful things. I don’t answer right away because I don’t trust what might come out if I do. Instead, I shift slightly, letting my hand fall between us on the armrest. Close enough that if he wants, he can close the gap.
It takes him less than five seconds. His pinkie hooks mine, feather-light, hidden from anyone glancing our way.
I glance down at our hands, then up at him. He’s staring straight out the window at the clouds like it’s nothing. But the corner of his mouth tips up just enough to undo me.
I should pull away. I don’t. I don’t think I can.
Instead, I lean closer, my voice low, meant for him alone. “Don’t fall through the pillows, Starling.”
His shoulders shake with silent laughter, and he turns just enough that our eyes lock. He smiles brightly at me and then looks back out the window. “Not without you, Calder.”
And for the first time ever, I let myself pretend this—him, us—could be real.
“You ever fly when you were a kid?” he asks, voice pitched low. “I used to look out the window and make shapes. Like, that one—” He points to a cloud in the distance. “Totally a dragon. A friendly one though, not, like,Game of Thronesmurder-dragon.”
I grunt. “Looks more like a chicken.”
His laugh bursts out, too bright, drawing a glance from the woman across the aisle a row ahead. He lowers his voice again, leaning close. “You’re impossible, Calder.”
“And you’re a child trapped in a grown man’s body,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it. My chest feels too tight for that. The way he looks at the world—like it’s full of magic I forgot existed—is one of the things I love most about him.
