Page 19 of Christmas Sunrise
"You old romantic," I say, nudging my arm into hers.
"I know, shit. Don't tell anyone."
"You think you'll end up with a man or a woman?" I ask hesitantly. "Or someone non-binary?"
Arabella pulls a face that is the very definition of ambiguity. "I have no fecking idea. And that's what I love about being pan. Anything is possible.Everythingis possible. Isn't that just so fucken beautiful?"
"You're beautiful," I say as I tuck one of her braids behind her ear. I mean it and she knows it. We give each other compliments like this all the time, but right now as the air grows thicker and the background noise dulls a little, Arabella holds my eye contact and she doesn't immediately throw back words of praise to match mine. I wonder if she's soaking up the compliment, feeling its full weight, or if maybe she's feeling agitated like I am, confused by what's happening between us.
"You're fecking beautiful too, Maevey," she finally says and she echoes my movement, bringing her hand to my cheek and I just know she feels how hot my skin is. Maybe that's why she drops her hand before I can move mine to hold it against my face for a moment longer. Or maybe she does it because she feels what I think I feel too. A new connection trying to forge its way between us. A new level to our years-long friendship.
Surely, surely, surely that means something?
"Bella," I say, my mouth moving before I can stop it but then my brain catches up and no more words come out.
"Yeah," she says, pulling her purse out of her bag, presumably for that round she offered to buy.
Still stumped for what to say next, I know we need to be somewhere quieter and more private for the conversation I really want to have. My brother has been breathing down my neck all evening and, while he, Jenna and Jake look lost in their own conversation now, that could end at any moment.
"I really need to piss. Do you?" I ask in a clumsy rush.
Arabella shrugs and stands. "Sure, let's go."
It's when we're only a handful of steps away from it that I see what's hanging from the middle of the doorway we need to walk through at the far end of the bar to find the toilets.
Mistletoe.
I don't know why my first reaction to spotting this is to turn back and look at the table we just left but when I do, I see my brother pulling Jenna onto his lap as Jake busies himself on his phone. I watch as Marty kisses her chastely, but there is nothing but intimacy in the way their noses then rub together. So many times I've seen moments like this between them, exchanges so doused in love and tenderness that you can almost smell it wafting from them, and increasingly, I find it impossible to watch them without feeling a flash of something bolt through my veins.I want that.I want someone to rub the tip of their nose against mine. I want someone to love. And I want them to love me too.
I love Arabella. I know that, but what shape does this love have? Is it a love that could open up a whole new world of intimacy for me? Is it a love that could finally, finally make sense? Could she love me like that too?
I suppose there's only one way to find out.
Just as she steps under the doorway, seemingly oblivious to what's above her head, I reach forward and grab her arm. My grip is strong enough to stop her in her tracks and have her spin back to look at me. Stepping up to face her, I look up slowly. When I bring my gaze back down to her face, I see her own eyes noticing the mistletoe.
"Oh," she says, still looking up.
"Bella, I-"
"You want to kiss me?"
"Well, it is Christmas and that is some mistletoe," I lie. That is the last reason I want to kiss her.
Arabella's eyes narrow and I almost begrudge how it takes away some of the full dark brown globes I find so much reassurance looking into. There's a little rise of noise near us and I turn my head to the side to see a group of men nearby, watching us with clear interest.
Fucken eejits.
"You wanna give them a show?" Arabella says and when I look back at her I see her eyes are wide and sparkling again, sparkling with mischief.
"You doing something for the male gaze?" I say, layering my voice with the necessary disdain. "That's not like you."
"It is when I think about how none of them have a chance in hell with either of us."
I look over at the group again. "Not a chance in hell," I confirm.
Arabella inches closer, pulling my attention back to her. "You up for it, hamster?"
"I am if you are, munchkin," I say and it only pains me a little that she has no idea how heavy the truth in that sentence is.
