Page 44 of Since Always

"Good morning, sunshine," my mom calls.

"Morning, Momma." I say, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Good morning," Owen says.

I sit down in the chair between them.

"Morning," I say casually, only glancing his direction. I am worried my mom will feel the tension if I look at him for too long.

"I'm surprised you are already up. You don't usually make it out of bed before 2:00 on New Year's," my mom says.

"I know. I went to bed pretty early last night. I had a headache."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I wondered where you had gone off to. I saw Lexi a few times and kept asking her, but she said she wasn't sure. I did meet Drew. That's the guy you guys were talking about, right? He seems like a nice kid. Very cute."

I glance at Owen; whose face betrays nothing. The memory of kissing Drew last night comes back to me and it feels like it happened a million years ago.

"Yeah, he's nice. I don't think I'm super into him though. I don't know."

"Well, that's okay," she says. "There are a million boys out there and you still have all the time in the world."

I smile at her. She's right on both accounts. The problem, though, is I don't want any of the millions of boys out there. I only want the man sitting next to me.

My family's tradition is to spend the entirety of New Year's Day lounging around the theater room, watching movies and recovering, while the cleaners tackle the party’s destruction in the rest of the house. Then, after a takeout dinner, we bundle up, get apple ciders and hot chocolates, and go ice skating at the outdoor rink in Snowmass Village.

Owen and I have been avoiding one another all day, putting my mom between us in the theater room and sitting at opposite ends of the dinner table. If I thought it was hard to hide how tense and strange things were between us before last night, things are now at an entirely new level. Everything feels heightened and electric. It's all I can think about or focus on, and it is hard to believe anyone sitting within a fifty-foot radius of us could not notice it.

We are heading to our rooms to change for ice skating, him walking behind me. As soon as we step into our hallway he pulls me back and pins me against the wall, pressing his lips to mine. There is no reason for anyone to follow us, but Chris's room is pretty much right around the corner. This feels dangerous.

"What are you doing?" I whisper, pulling away from him.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I've been needing to do that all day."

I kiss him back, letting myself be pinned there, as his hands roam up my body. They stop to rest on my breasts, his thumbs finding my nipples through my shirt. His mouth stifles my gasp.

Music drifts around the corner from Chris's room, and I know that means he is getting in the shower.

"Fuck," he says breathlessly, pulling back. "I'm sorry. This is stupid. I have to be more careful, but I just can't be around you without wanting to..."

"I know," I purr, pulling him back into me, pressing my mouth into his.

We both know it's reckless. But it's hard to deny that the thrill of getting caught is adding to the heat level. No-one has ever accused people in lust of acting intelligently.

It's hard to think about any of this as he gives in to my kisses, and slips his hands into my pants.

"Oh God," I moan as his fingers find their target. I wrap my arms around his neck to stabilize myself and keep my mouth on his, as he almost instantly brings me up and over the ledge. I am gasping for air, trying hard not to scream out loud.

He slips back from me when I finish, leaving me standing there with a quick wink as he steps into his room.

"Better go get ready, Lil' C. It's time for me to show you up on the rink."

It takes me several seconds to come out of my haze before I can move.

An hour later, my mother and I hit the ice hand-in-hand. It has been a year since we've done this, and we struggle to find out balance together. The Christmas lights twinkle overhead and, around the edge of the rink, families sit at fire pits talking cheerfully. I can smell the roasted chestnuts and coffee being sold from a small cart nearby.

"Cassidy Jane. If I didn't know any better, I would say you are happy," my mother says.

On the other side of the rink, Owen is skating solo. He is wearing a beanie pulled down and has his scarf pulled up to cover most of his face, more to keep himself disguised than warm. He is weaving through crowds of people. In high school, both Owen and Chris played hockey. I was too young to remember much about the games but, growing up, I always loved watching how graceful they were on the ice when we skated.

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