Page 18 of Gingerbread Hearts

The angle is perfection.

The movements pure bliss.

Unable to kiss from this position I close my eyes, letting the moment envelope me entirely.

My heart feels whole.

It no longer feels like just sex.

But love seems out of the question for both of us…

It’s the last thought I have as we fall over the edge. Our shouts almost in sync as he pumps slowly, easing me back to a normal laying position.

We both lay on the carpet, side by side. Our arms touching. Our chests rising and falling, breathing ragged. Our clothes from the evening scattered around us.

Despite the time we just spent as close as you can be with another, I don’t want to talk further. I don’t want to fight. I just want it to go back to being a holiday fling.

I take a deep breath. “I think we should just write this evening off as an odd timing of sorts,” I say, turning to face Jake.

“Don’t want to discuss it further?” he lips pursed into a grim expression.

“No, actually, I don’t. This,” I gesture to the small space between our bodies, “is just sex. My town choice and job path don’t need your input.” I sigh as I lay back down onto the carpet.

“If that’s how you feel, okay. I can head out and pretend we didn’t pause an argument with sex.” Jake goes to stand, picking up his clothes. As he dresses, I watch, letting the silence cover me like a weighted blanket. “Oh, the dress code for the party is, and I quote my grandmother directly, ‘not quite black tie, but your holiday best.’ I would still love you to go with me.” He smiles weakly at me, making my chest ache.

Why can’t it be simple?

“Thanks for checking. I think I can manage an outfit.” I sit up. “And yes, I’ll still go with you. I would love to still see you… while you’re here that is.”

“Of course, while I’m here.” He puts on his coat and leans down to kiss me on the cheek. “Goodnight, Violet.” With that he grabs his coat and leaves.

And I let him.

I stay on the living room floor until my body is more frozen than sad. I want to be my own person, to not rely on another for anything. I don’t want to give up my dream so that a guy can have his. But it’s not just some guy.

It’s Jake.

I shake my head as if that could stop all the thoughts rattling around. It must be past midnight now. My body is sore, tired, and cold. I make my way to bed to try to get some sleep before going to the bakery sometime before dawn.

My eyes close as my head hits my pillow. I think about what I used to dream of my future looking like. Now, as I try to fall asleep, I can’t picture a scenario in my future where Jake doesn’t pop up somehow.

Why is love so hard?

FOURTEEN

JAKE

Waking up in my own bed feels more lonely than normal. I should be used to sleeping alone… and waking up alone. The girls I hook up with in the city are never big on sleepovers. Everyone loves their own space. I wish I was waking up next to Violet. I want to roll over and see her sweet face first thing in the morning.

Everything got jumbled last night. We had been doing so well, but then we had a weird argument. We both want different things out of life, while we knew that going into this fling, when it came to a head last night I wasn’t prepared for how I would feel and react. Even though I meant what I said, I didn’t mean to hurt her. And when I saw her on the porch, her eyes misty and lips trembling, I didn’t want to be the cause of her pain.

Then, even after a hell of a time together and some pretty mind-blowing sex, she didn’t want to talk. I agree that what we have, this whole holiday fling, is great. Her company, the sex, the connection between us is just magical. But it’s as though there’s something else between us, something more.

I wanted to float the idea of extending the fling. I thought Violet might be open to visiting each other and dating exclusively despite the distance. Now, after last night I’m not sure she’d go for anything past this Christmas holiday together. My stomach growls, reminding me that I’m still just lying in bed letting my mind wander.

Breakfast is already on the table when I come down the stairs. My grandmother sitting with her coffee and empty plate. She smiles warmly as I sit across from her at the table.

“Thanks, Grams,” I say as she fills my coffee cup. As the caffeine works its way through my system, I’m working my way through my feelings. I’m trying to unravel things as her voice snaps me out of it.

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