Page 29 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
Eli kicks the door shut behind me, his grin turning sheepish. “He didn’t. Because he never showed up this year.” He gestures toward the room as if it’s obvious. “So…it’s just me. And all of the Christmas I can handle.”
I snort, glancing at the tree weighed down with ornaments and the paper snowflakes taped to the window. “All of Christmas? Looks like you mugged a Hobby Lobby.”
He smirks, unbothered. “Don’t pretend you’re not impressed.”
I huff, trying to keep the corner of my mouth from twitching. “Impressed isn’t the word I’d use.”
But the truth is, it feels…weirdly him. Warm, over-the-top, impossible not to look at. And if I’m honest, the empty bed on the other side of the room makes something in my chest ache, knowing he’s been here alone, decorating all this for himself.
I shake the thought off before it can dig in too deep, dropping onto the edge of his bed like I belong there. “So what, you just sit in here every night sipping cocoa and communing with your snowman army?” I nod to the shelf of three different sized snowmen over his dresser.
Eli drops down across from me, cross-legged on his bed, grinning as if I handed him a compliment instead of an insult. “Sometimes cocoa, sometimes eggnog. Depends on the vibe.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, dragging a hand over my face, but it’s useless. My mouth betrays me, pulling into a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” he says, leaning back on his hands, “you’re here.”
He reaches for the pie container on his dresser next to him. “I promised to share, but I only have one fork, so we are really sharing.”
I shake my head and wave him off. “It’s all yours.”
“Sharing a fork isn’t a big deal. Our tongues literally just danced…so…”
My face heats with the reminder of our kiss, and I clear my throat, reaching for the safest topic I’ve got at the moment. “You said something about conserving body heat and a movie?”
Eli props a couple pillows against the wall and climbs back, patting the space beside him as if it’s already decided. “C’mon, Calder. Premium seating. And really, you can have a bite of my pie. The sugar will give you the energy to make body heat. I’m sure there is science behind it.”
“That’s not how it works.”
I roll my eyes but then kick off my shoes and scoot across his bed anyway, until I’m shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He drags a blanket over both of us, warm fleece settling across my lap, and the heat of him seeps into my side instantly. Too close. Not close enough.
Taking a bite of his pie, he sets the container on his dresser, and then he pulls his laptop over, fingers flying as he cues up some movie. The blue glow paints his grin soft. I can feel every point where we’re touching—the bump of his knee, the press of his arm—and something in me gives in before I can think better of it.
I slide my arm around the back of him, casual, pretending it’s just about comfort. Like I don’t mean it. But when I tug him closer, he doesn’t protest. He just sinks in, shoulder under my arm, head tilted toward me as the movie loads.
Friends. Just two friends staying warm during a blackout. That’s what I tell myself, even as my pulse thunders in my ears, and the excuse feels paper thin.
The movie flickers to life, filling the room with soft light, and Eli shifts just a little closer, settling closer. Like he’s done this a hundred times before, and he belongs tucked into my side.
“You always watch Christmas movies in a blackout?” I murmur, my voice low, mostly so I don’t give away how loud my heart’s hammering.
He tilts his head up at me, eyes catching the glow of the screen. “Tradition. Power goes out, you put onIt’s a Wonderful Life,or you risk bad luck.”
I huff a laugh. “That a real superstition or one of your sugar-high inventions?”
He grins, unbothered. “Does it matter? You’re sitting here, aren’t you?”
My mouth twitches, and I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “Guess I am.”
We fall quiet after that, letting the dialogue from the movie fill the space, but the silence between us isn’t empty. It’s warm. Comfortable. Dangerous. Every so often, he shifts, his shoulder brushing my chest, his knee bumping against my leg under the blanket. None of it’s accidental. At least, it doesn’t feel accidental.
And I’m not sure I want it to be.
ELEVEN
ELI
I’m warm.Warm and happy and way too comfortable for my own good. The blanket is soft, the glow of the laptop flickers against the tinsel strung across the wall, and Max’s cologne is all around me—sharp and clean with a little bit of spice, like he maybe put too much on earlier. Like he wanted me to notice.
