Page 55 of War on Christmas

I cringe. There are exceptions to every rule, obviously, but most people I’d known at that age were strange, hybrid creatures of adolescents and adults, high on the combination of maximum freedom and minimal responsibilities. No answering to parents, but no mortgage or kids either. It was a time for backpacking through Europe, drinking on work nights, and racking up sexual conquests. Given my drive to create stability for myself, I’d had a more constrained approach, but most of my friends had been sowing wild oats like it was a government-issued directive.

Thad points at my face. “Exactly. They’re dumbasses. And Freya had gone through this transformation from Freaky Freya”—his mouth pinches for a moment, and I feel a grim satisfaction about plastering myself to Freya’s side in front of Tiffany at the Galway Inn—“to this…well…” He scratches his head, looking bemused. “She’s really pretty.”

Saying Freya is “really pretty” is like saying Albert Einstein was “really smart,” but I take pity on Thad and don’t belabor the point.

“Men treated her badly?” I ask, my voice strangled. Mom’s eyes widen at my tone, and I force my clenched fists to relax. Because I suddenly want to pummel every sorry asshole who ever hurt Freya.

Thad sighs. “They liked theideaof her, right? Her image. But you know Freya. There’s a lot of depth there. She has big feelings and big ideas and big ways of sharing them. It intimidated the guys she dated, and whenever things started getting more serious, they’d break it off. There was one guy, Ryan, who I thought might get more serious, but something happened there, too. And Freya had no interest in being less, well,” Thad shrugs, “in being lessFreya. So, she just learned not to go there.”

My cereal churns in my guts. I hate the idea of Freya facing that kind of rejection. The idea of men who weren’t fit to lick her sexy little boots making her feel less than. I crack my knuckles as I blow a hard breath out of my nose, and Thad gives me an amused half smile.

“There was also their other fatal flaw, of course.”

“What was that?”

He smiles. “They weren’t you.”

Thirty-Five

FREYA

5 days until Christmas…

Leo:Sohowisthe seduction going?

Me: You need to ask? Oh ye of little faith…

Leo: Glad it’s shaping up to be a merry Christmas ;-) You said he lives in Chicago…

Me: Yeah. Your point being???

Leo: That you could keep seeing him after the holidays? That you might have someone to comfort you and stop you from living a cold, lonely, miserable existence once I’m discovered and move to LA? You know, basic companionship? The human need for connection? ORGASMS?!?!?

Me: WTF? You sound like my sister. Remember before you started dating Todd? When you used to be cool?

With a sigh, I toss my phone back onto the couch, trusting the fifty-year-old springs to cushion its landing. My parents are both at work, and Thad and Sam went downtown for last-minute Christmas shopping. Which means I have the house to myself.

I thought about sleeping in, but my brain wouldn’t turn off this morning after I snuck back into my room. It’s swirling with what-ifs.What if Jeremy and I tried to keep this thing going? What if I let my guard down? What if I trusted him, just a little?

My brain is also swirling with answers.One of his coworkers would recognize me from The Sphere and Jeremy would be embarrassed at work. Or maybe I’d shoot my mouth off at a work function and get him in trouble. Jeremy would get sick of me once the novelty wore off. Once I wasn’t just a fantasy anymore.

And the result is always the same:I would get my heart crushed.

No thank you.

So, to quiet the hamster wheel that is my brain, I’m taking advantage of the empty house and using the basement to dance. The Sphere’s January burlesque will be our first performance after the holiday break, so it will need to come together fast. The theme? “New Year, New Me.” It’s going to be a full-on satire of people pursuing stereotypical New Year’s resolutions. People at an exercise class crashing into each other, an item of clothing falling off with every collision. An enthusiastic dieter who ends her number sobbing into a bowl of lettuce.

It's going to be great. It even distracted me a little, the physicality of it. Working my muscles through the familiar moves. Shimmies and grinds and three-step turns. Then Leo had to interrupt and bring my thoughts straight back to Jeremy.

With a sigh, I towel my face and grab my phone, heading back upstairs. Hecate’s waiting for me in my room, butting her head against my legs until I scratch behind her ears. My phone dings, but I ignore it, concentrating instead on the soft rumble of Hecate’s purr. I know it’s probably Leo, and I don’t need his “human need for connection” negativity this morning.

But there’s no ignoring the twist of unease behind my breastbone.

Because this thing with Jeremy…it doesn’t feel like a fling. The sex is amazing, sure, but it’s not the sex that has me on edge. Well, notjustthe sex. It’s everything. The way he trails his fingertips down my back while he listens to me endlessly prattle about The Sphere and our upcoming shows. Hell, the way Iwantto prattle to him about work, watching to see which details will make him smile with amusement. The look in his eye when I catch him watching me from across the room. The casual way he holds my hand and plays with my hair throughout our movie nights and C&C sessions with Thad and Sam. Fuck, even his annoying Sunshine nickname has started getting me all hot and bothered.

Seventeen-year-old Freya would be mortified.

And trust me, I’ve noticed that since our night together at the Galway Inn I haven’t brought up going our separate ways in Chicago. The countdown is always on my mind, ticking away with every sunrise, but I don’t want to say it out loud. It’s like those words—“Six days left…Nope! Down to five.”—will burst this magical bubble we’ve created. A bubble of teasing, and games, and steamy sex.Poof!Gone. When it’s already going to burst way too soon.

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