Page 30 of The Christmas Express

Luke

I climb into bed, twirling the tinsel decoration Cali left me with between my fingers.

The memory of her arm under my hand lingers in my fingertips. I should have pulled back earlier; she’s moved on, we both have. Haven’t we?

I wish I could read her mind. I put down the tinsel, carefully, on my small side table and pick up my phone, opening social media apps and scrolling, first without really seeing, and then I dawdle on a video about how to tell if someone has a crush on you.

The algorithm notices my hesitation in swiping, and soon I’m watching clip after clip and trying to tell myself it doesn’t mean anything.

‘Stop it,’ I mutter out loud, and put my phone face down on my chest, picking up my book instead, and reading three pages in a row without noticing a single word.

I can be her friend again. That’s what she wants; her friendships are everything to her. She’s happy now. I’m happy now. No more falling back into old patterns.

Flipping back a couple of pages, I manage two paragraphs before I’m back on my phone, wiling away Christmas Eve night by looking at old photographs, holding the tinsel close to my heart.