Page 126 of Holiday Friend Zones
“Yes.But… I wanted more than just a friendship.I didn’t know that until our almost-kiss.I waged a war inside my head if it was a good idea or not.Would it ruin what we had?But it only made it better.I’m sorry for what I said.You’re the only thing that matters.I want you here with me.Christmas decorations and all.Iamscared.I’m scared of everything I could lose and even more terrified of everything I could gain.Because then I would know what it feels like to be truly happy.”
“I’m scared too.I’ve never felt like this before.”
“Then we can be scared together.I got you a present.”
“But it’s only Christmas Eve.”
“It’s close enough.”I pull the wrapped planner from inside my coat.
She takes it and slowly peels away the wrapping paper.“It’s beautiful.”Her fingers trace the cover.
“It reminded me of you.Open it to December.”
Her fingers flip through the color-coded monthly tabs until she reaches December, and her eyes go wide at my handwriting on the 25th:Tell Lauren you love her.And under December 24th in slightly smaller print:Tell her early, just in case.
My mouth goes dry.“Lauren, I love you.I’ve loved you my entire life.Just recently, I found out how deep that love is.I’m not taking the job.I’m staying here with you.”
For a second, she looks like she might cry, but then she throws her arms around me, and I pull her to my chest.“Oh, Eli,” she says into my shoulder.“I love you too.”
She pulls back, eyes scanning mine, a sly edge returning.“But if you ever call my decorations ‘too much’ again, I will bury you in tinsel.”
Relief floods me, and I laugh.“Deal.”
This time, I pull her to me and press my lips to hers.The cold air swirls around us, but she’s warm against me, and for the first time in forever, I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
* * *
The next morning,I wake to the smell of coffee and the sound of someone humming Christmas carols off-key.Through the sliver of the open bedroom door, my gaze zeros in on her wearing my flannel shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up, her hair disheveled from the night we just had.She sways her hips in front of the stove as she pours batter onto a skillet like she owns the place.And maybe she does now.
I shove a hand through my hair and groan into my pillow, partly because I’m exhausted and partly because the view is enough to wreck me.I thought the first time having sex with her was amazing, but the second time, she showed me who’s really in charge.How is this my life now?Her in my shirt, making pancakes.There’s no going back after this.I can’t.
She glances over her shoulder and smirks.“You’re finally awake.”
“Yeah.”My voice comes out rough, unused.“And you’re wearing my favorite shirt.”
She glances down, giving a little shimmy that makes the hem ride up dangerously high on her thighs.“Looks better on me.”
She’s not wrong.I drag myself out of bed and stroll into the kitchen, sliding behind her and pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder.She smells like coffee and sugar and last night.My hands find her waist on instinct, pulling her against me.
“Careful,” she warns, flipping a pancake.“If you distract me, you’ll end up with burnt breakfast.”
“Worth it.”I nip her neck, just enough to make her squeak.
She elbows me gently.“We cannot make a habit of this.”
“Breakfast or me distracting you while you make breakfast?”
“Both.”She bites back a smile.“Although…” She tilts her head, pretending to think.“The distraction part might be negotiable.”
I spin her around and slant my mouth against hers.The kiss is slow and lazy, like we have all morning.She tastes like syrup already, sweet and sticky.When we finally break apart, she rests her forehead against mine.
“So…” she says softly.“Does this mean we’re officially more than friends?”
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.“Will you allow me the pleasure of being your boyfriend?To wake up next to you every morning.To hold you and kiss you.”
“Oh.I don’t know.”She laughs, my favorite sound.“That’s a lot of demands.”
“Fine.I’ll start smaller,” I murmur.“Just stay here.With me.Every day.Make pancakes in my shirt.Threaten me with tinsel.We’ll figure out the rest.”
“Calling you my boyfriend does have a nice ring to it.But just so you know…” She slides a pancake onto my plate and winks.“I’m not sharing the maple syrup.”
I laugh, tugging her close again.“That’s okay.I’ve already got the sweetest thing in the house.”
“I take it back.”She giggles.“With a line like that, I’m no longer calling you my boyfriend.”
“Too late.Can’t take it back now.”
I lean in for another kiss, ready to give her whatever she wants, because for the first time in a long time, home is less about four walls and a roof, and more about who you spend the rest of your life with.And somehow, I got the perfect person.Peppermint candles and all.
