Page 3

Snow flurries chase me around campus. Though it’s cold, I can’t help but relish in the elation that’s hit me today. I’m tempted to stick my tongue out and spin in a circle to see if I can catch a flake. That’s how happy I am to have finals behind me and freedom ahead. One more semester down and only one to go until graduation.

I’m still annoyed with my parents, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’ve hyped myself up for a Christmas alone. I decorated my dorm with a small tree I picked up at Target, created a plan for a movie marathon, and ordered Christmas-themed pajamas galore.

All I can do is make the best of it. I even ordered a few presents for myself and had them gift-wrapped so I can open them on Christmas. Sure, I know what’s inside each one, but chances are high my mom will forget to send me anything.

The holiday isn’t about gifts, of course, but the reminder that my parents forget my existence stings. This way, I’ll at least have a few new items of clothing and handbags to keep me company.

Although, now that I think about it, that might only make me feel more alone than I already am.

With my thoughts racing and my stomach turning, I let myself into the coffee shop on campus. Once I place my order for a peppermint mocha, I wait off to the side and send a text to Rosie, though I don’t expect a response any time soon. She’s busy these days.

I have other friends on campus, but they’ve all headed home for the holidays. Rosie, on the other hand, lives close by and is celebrating Christmas here with her family.

When my order is up, I grab it and head back out into the chilly December weather.

Now that finals are done and I won’t have studying to occupy my time, I’m not sure what to do with myself. It’s been way too long since I’ve been to the gym, and that would distract me, but the idea of running on the treadmill or lifting weights doesn’t sound appealing at the moment.

I could go to the movies. Or shopping. I think there’s some sort of light festival happening in a nearby town.

Maybe I should do that tonight .

So absorbed in my thoughts, I run straight into a person—luckily without spilling my coffee. As I bounce off his hard chest, I’m already spewing apologies.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t?—”

Luke takes one of his earbuds out and smiles in a way that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

My stomach dips in response. I never got butterflies like this with Tommy. Maybe that’s why Luke scares me so much. Because if I gave him a chance and things didn’t work out, I’d never recover.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks.

“Fine,” I answer a little too curtly. With a breath in, I will myself to relax and give him a smile. “Just finished my last final and wanted coffee.” I hold up my cup.

We’ve been texting here and there since that day at the dining hall. Nothing serious, though.

“Where are you headed?” he asks, spinning the earbud back and forth between his thumb and index finger.

“I guess back to my dorm. I don’t really have anywhere else to be.”

With a nod, he adjusts his beanie. “Listen, I don’t want to sound too forward, and I don’t want you to think I’m only offering this because I like you.” His cheeks pinken, and not because of the chill in the air. “But I’ve been thinking about you being alone for Christmas and…” He sighs, tugging the beanie off entirely to rub his fingers over his closely cropped hair. “My mom always cooks a meal on Christmas Eve. It’s just us two and it’s a lot of food. You should come over. If you want. She’d love to have someone else to feed and shower with Christmas spirit.”

My heart thumps heavily in my chest as I mull over the idea. Christmas is still about two weeks away. “Can I think about it and get back to you?”

He gives me a half smile. “Sure. See you.” He sticks his earbud back in and walks away.

It’s cold. I should be scurrying away, eager to get inside and warm up, but I watch until he disappears into one of the buildings before I make my way back to my dorm.

Inside, I set the paper cup down and plug in the lights I wrapped around the small Christmas tree. Instantly, the warm twinkling light makes the space feel homier.

Sipping my coffee, I shuffle to the fridge in search of leftovers.

I locate a bowl of pasta I made a few nights ago. It passes the sniff test, so I stick it in the microwave to start the warming process while I hop into the shower.

Once I’ve dried off, I pull on my coziest flannel pajamas and fuzzy socks, probably looking ridiculous, but I’m not trying to impress anyone.

I give my pasta a quick stir, stick it in the microwave for another thirty seconds, then bring it over to the couch and cue up a Christmas movie. I’ve already watched all my favorites this holiday season, so I’m expanding my horizons and trying a few I’ve never seen.

Before I can hit play, I’m overwhelmed with the urge to text Luke. Why, I couldn’t say. Maybe because I ran into him or maybe because I’m lonely. Either way, I don’t give myself time to second-guess it.

Me: Please feel free to say no, but would you want to come over and watch Christmas movies with me?

Nerves skitter through me as I wait for his reply. I don’t want to sound too needy or desperate.

I’ve just about convinced myself to start the movie and forget about it when his reply comes through.

Luke: I’d like that. Should I bring food?

Me: Only if you’re hungry. I’m eating leftovers.

Luke: Cool. Dessert?

Me: I’ll never say no to dessert.

Luke: Any preference?

Me: CHOCOLATE.

Me: Also anything with peanut butter.

Luke: Got it. See you soon.

I send him the information he needs to get inside my dorm building, then sit back and exhale. Only then does the realization that Luke is coming here wash over me. Which, honestly, I should’ve thought about before I asked him.

My bra is draped over the chair.

There’s a shoe halfway under the TV console.

My laptop has streaks of Hershey’s chocolate smeared on it from when I was stuffing my face while studying, but it looks suspiciously like something else.

“Shit.”

I stick my mostly uneaten leftovers back in the fridge, then rush around picking up the space.

I’m normally a tidy person, but after I discovered my parents were ditching me for Christmas, I might’ve wallowed a bit. Or a lot.

Once I’ve picked up the clutter, I wipe down counters, clean up the smear of toothpaste from the sink in case he has to use the bathroom, and stuff my tampons in the cabinet.

As I straighten and close the cabinet door, I catch sight of myself in the mirror, and a curse springs out of me.

I’m a mess. My blond hair is piled on top of my head, and my pajamas are far from cute. I look nowhere near desirable.

Not that I want him to see me as such.

We’re just two platonic friends hanging out.

So, with a heavy exhale, I decide to keep the pajamas. But I have to do something about my hair. I let it down and carefully brush out the knots. How it got so tangled in such a short amount of time is beyond me. Once my hair is smooth, I spritz a little perfume on, worried that I stink and just can’t tell.

I’ve just put it away when there’s a knock at my door.

Smoothing my hands down the front of my pajamas, I give myself five seconds to catch my breath before I turn the knob and greet my visitor.

Luke takes up the entire doorway. He’s so big in the narrow hallway outside my dorm. Larger than life.

“Hey.” His lips quirk up on one side. “I went ahead and got you a veggie pizza just in case.”

He holds up the two boxes, breaking me out of my trance.

“Thanks.” I step aside to let him in. “I ended up not eating my leftovers, so this is great.”

His dark brows furrow as he sets the pizza on the counter. “Why didn’t you eat?”

“I needed to clean up. This place was a mess.”

A gruff laugh escapes him. “You didn’t need to clean up for me.” He looks around my dorm, taking in the kitchenette and living area with the two bedrooms branching off and a bathroom between. “I forget how nice these rooms are. It’s like an apartment.”

I cross my arms over my chest, but immediately drop them again when I realize I’m not wearing a bra. “You don’t live on campus?”

He shakes his head. “I’m a local, remember? I live with my mom.” His cheeks flame a little at that, like he’s embarrassed about his living situation. “I think that’s part of the reason I got the scholarship here. Help out a local kid or whatever.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s your hockey talent that got you in.” The instant the words are out, I want to slap myself. Now I’m the one whose cheeks are heating.

He grins, making a dimple I’ve never noticed pop. This man was already lethal, but throw in a dimple, and I’m not sure I stand any chance.

“Checking out my stats, B?”

Nobody in my life calls me B except him, and I don’t correct him. For some ridiculous reason, I like it.

“I was looking at the whole team.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement. “I’m sure you were.”

“You know you’re a good player,” I mutter, standing on my tiptoes to grab plates from the cabinet. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“No.” He steps up behind me and presses a hand against my waist. “But I do like to hear it.” His body is warm behind mine. “Let me get those.”

Our fingers graze as we reach for the plates at the same time, and sparks zip up my arm like I’ve been electrocuted.

“Sorry,” I mutter, quickly pulling my hand against my chest and dropping down so my feet are flat on the floor.

“No, I’m sorry,” he says, setting the plates on the counter and putting a foot of space between us.

We silently load our plates, then sit on the couch with matching cans of Diet Coke.

“What movie do you want to watch?” he asks, shifting back and widening his long legs.

The couch is small, closer to love seat size, yet he miraculously manages to leave inches of space between us.

I both hate and love that space.

Love it, because he’s respecting my wishes.

Hate it, because dammit, I really want him to breach that line.

“I planned to watch something I never have before, but honestly”—I pick up the remote from the coffee table—“I’m not feeling it. I think I’m in the mood for Home Alone . Is that good with you?”

“Absolutely. It’s a masterpiece.” He takes a bite of pizza and groans, his eyes closing for a moment. “Still can’t figure out how you forget your kid at home.” He turns slowly in my direction, blinking. “Please tell me your parents never forgot you at home.”

“Probably a time or two,” I answer honestly. “But I always had nannies, so their asses were covered.”

He lowers his head and gives it a shake. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, I know. I think…” I twist my lips back and forth, considering whether I want to voice this out loud. “I don’t think they wanted kids, but my grandparents wanted the legacy to be carried on, so ta-da, there’s me. Except I’m not a man, and even if my future spouse would take my last name, I don’t think I would want them to. It feels more like a curse than a blessing.”

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” I scroll through my movies, looking for Home Alone in the recently watched category.

“Being a Carthwright.”

A heavy sigh filters out of me. “In one word? Exhausting.”

He’s still watching me, as if that isn’t enough of an answer.

“Don’t get me wrong. It comes with a lot of privileges,” I say, focused on the plate of pizza in my lap. “Shopping sprees, the fanciest restaurants, and opportunities galore. But it also comes with a lot of pressure. When people know who you are, they’re always watching and inevitably waiting for you to fuck up. The pressure to be perfect is intense. I went to the best private school and had the smartest tutors and anything I could want, but…”

“But?” He probes, ducking a little closer.

“But I was lonely.” I shrug, pressing the button on the remote to start the movie. “As a little kid, I wished more than once that I had a different family. I was spoiled, sure. Any toy I showed even mild interest in appeared in my room, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I just… wanted my mom and dad.”

He’s quiet for a moment, a slice of pizza hanging limply in his hand. “I’m sorry it was like that for you.”

I shrug, lips pressed together. “At least I turned out okay.”

With the movie playing, conversation ceases, and we dig into our dinner in earnest. When we’ve both had our fill, Luke rinses the plates in the sink. My core clenches at the sight of him stooped over the sink scrubbing. Am I crazy for not pursuing a relationship with him? He’s gorgeous, and he’s a talented hockey player. Not to mention he’s smart and kind.

No. I’m not crazy. I just need more time. I was with Tommy for so long, and I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be an individual.

I don’t like being alone, but it’s important for my growth.

Luke returns to the couch, and when I tug the throw blanket off the back and spread it out, he happily accepts one half of it, though he doesn’t speak. I like that he doesn’t push conversation. He’s just… there. And it’s comfortable. The silence between us.

I didn’t have that with Tommy.

When things got quiet, I always felt like I needed to chatter to avoid the awkwardness that would settle in.

“Do you want to watch another movie?” I ask when Home Alone finishes. “Do you need to be somewhere?”

He shakes his head. “I have time.”

With a small smile, I pass him the remote. “You pick this time.”

His hand brushes mine as he takes it, and another spark courses up my arm.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

With a nod, he browses through my movies, and after a moment, he settles on Elf , then sets the remote on the arm of the couch.

“Solid choice.” I adjust my legs since my left foot is beginning to go numb.

“It’s a classic.” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyes focused on the screen.

As the movie starts, I can’t help but stare at him.

Carved cheekbones, with the perfect amount of stubble. Brows I can’t help but be envious of—thick and full and perfectly arched, whereas I have to draw mine in or they’re practically non-existent. Perfectly full lips.

“I can feel you staring at me.”

I let out a sound that can only be described as a yip. “Sorry.”

My face goes so hot I have little doubt that it’s tomato red.

“It’s okay. Look your fill.” He keeps his eyes on the TV, but his lips quirk.

I drop my gaze to the blanket in my lap, tugging on a loose strand.

He shifts, causing the couch to creak under his weight. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

I startle when his finger is suddenly on my chin, forcing my gaze up, and a shiver works its way down my spine.

“We’re mature enough to acknowledge that we’re attracted to each other. We’ve both said our piece, and that’s that, but attraction doesn’t just go away. I’d like to be friends, though.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I don’t think we can be friends. It’s not normal to be this attracted to a person one has a platonic relationship with. But I swallow the words down. I’d rather have Luke in this limited capacity than not at all. That’s a scary thought, but I can’t deny it. My circle is next to nonexistent since I ended things with Tommy. I have Rosie, because she was my friend first. While I have other “friends,” the vast majority took Tommy’s side when we split. Why there even has to be sides is beyond me, but people are weird. I guess it’s better to know now who actually likes me and who just tolerated me because of my boyfriend.

“What are you thinking about over there?” he asks, pausing the movie. He drapes his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers close enough to graze my shoulder if he wanted.

“You don’t want to know.”

He purses his lips, cocking a brow.

Huffing, I let my shoulders sink. “Tommy.”

His nose crinkles like he smells something spoiled. “You’re right. I don’t want to know.”

“I was thinking about how the people in our friend group were actually his friends, and now I’m alone. I have Rosie, of course, and she’s great, but she has a lot going on right now.”

Luke laughs. “I’d say. She married Daire. That’s all I need to know.”

“Yeah.” Head lowered, I pick at the thread on the blanket again. Their marriage is a farce. They tied the knot so Daire can get shared custody of his son. But that obviously isn’t public knowledge, so I keep my mouth shut on that front. “I know I’m not missing out on anything, because clearly those people didn’t care about me, but I guess with the whole thing with my parents, I’m feeling extra sensitive and lonely.”

My stomach twists as I force my gaze up. I can’t believe I admitted that to Luke Covey, of all people.

Luke’s lips turn down. “I don’t like the thought of you being lonely.”

I shrug. “I’ll be fine. I’ll graduate and move on with my life.”

His frown deepens. The look causes unease to wash through me. I hate that I’m the one who put it there.

“Don’t worry about me,” I say, forcing myself to sit straighter. “I’m good. Promise.”

He hums, clearly not buying what I’m selling. “Well, if you’re ever not good and want to hang out, let me know.”

“I did ask you to come over tonight,” I remind him.

That pulls a genuine smile from him. “You did.” With that, he turns back to the movie.

We’re quiet, focused on Buddy the Elf and his shenanigans for a long while. It’s a relief, this reprieve from talking about my miserable existence.

I blink several times, my eyelids heavy, and the next thing I know, I’m sinking into my plush mattress.

“What’s happening?” I mutter, half asleep.

A quiet shush comes from the darkness. “You fell asleep. I’m tucking you into bed, and then I’m going to head out.”

“Oh.” I pout at Luke’s blurry silhouette. “I didn’t snore, did I?”

“No.” His chuckle is deep and rumbly, sweeping over me like a physical caress. “But you did drool.”

“Oh, God.” I wipe at my mouth.

With his fingers wrapped around my wrist gently, he tugs my hand away. “I think you got most of it on my shirt.”

Stomach sinking, I cover my face. “ No .” I draw out the word. “That’s so embarrassing. I’m sorry. You’re never going to want to see me again.”

He pulls the covers up to my shoulders. If I weren’t wishing I could crawl into a hole and die, I would think it’s cute.

“I could never not want to see you.” The confession is barely audible.

As tears prick at the backs of my eyes, I swallow thickly, fighting back emotion.

“Think about spending Christmas Eve with me and my mom, okay? I think you’d like her.”

My heart pangs at the thought. “She raised you. I’m sure she’s great.”

“She really is.” He straightens and clears his throat. “Sleep tight.” Then he’s turning and shuffling to the door.

“Luke?” I rasp.

Silently, he turns around.

“Text me when you get home, okay?”

He nods. “I will.”

It takes concerted effort, but I manage to stay awake until his text comes through. Once my phone is on my nightstand and I close my eyes, I drift off quickly.

I’m treading in dangerous water.

It wouldn’t take much for me to fall for this man.