by Amelia Wilde
He glares at me. Apparently he doesn’t give a shit about how hard his wife worked on this party. “You had your hands on my girl. Don’t care if she thinks it was innocent. A man knows.”
“A man knows what, Morrison?”
“That you wanted her. That you always have wanted her.”
There are fifty pairs of eyes watching us right now. Christmas music hangs in the air, the jolly strains at odds to the tension in the room. No one’s even pretending not to talk to each other or eat. The cranberry pie doesn’t stand a chance against this show.
I glance at Ellie. Her face looks white. Her eyes are stressed. “Daddy, stop,” she says, her voice trembling but sure. “You leave him alone. He never did anything to you.”
“Never did anything to me? He stole from the good people in this town.”
“Because he was hungry—”
“That’s okay,” I tell her gently. Then I turn to Morrison and the rest of this town. Merry as fuck except when someone’s starving outside the city limits. “You’re right, Tom. I do want her. I always have wanted her.”
Fury lights his eyes. The crowd bursts into surprised chatter. I don’t give a damn about any of them. I only have eyes for Ellie. She looks up at me with confusion. I should have had the balls to tell her my feelings sooner. I shouldn’t have done it at her parents’ Christmas party. She looks… hurt. As if maybe keeping a secret wasn’t a favor I was doing her.
3
Ellie
The only reason I survive this moment is because my mom sweeps back out of the kitchen dragging the church pianist behind her. Usually she springs for someone fancier—a guy in a suit with fast fingers and flirty nothings for all the guests.
This year she’s gone with Mike. Mike is about to put on the greatest performance of his life, and I tear my eyes away from Ryan and burst into frantic applause.
I’m too early and my mom shoots a not-very-subtle glare at me as she takes her spot next to the piano in the corner. It’s a baby grand and her favorite thing in the world.
How can a girl compare?
She cannot. Especially when her very own best friend has just dropped the meanest bombshell in all of history.
I didn’t think he would take it this far.
When he said he was my date, I thought we’d do some playacting. Hold hands by the light of the tree. Stand close together at the food table. You know—the things you do at a Christmas party when you’re wild about each other but not wanting to make a scene.
Ry has made a scene.
It’s a scene just for me, because obviously he doesn’t mean this.
Always wanted me?
No.
I’m the one who always wanted him. Not that I would ever admit it. Admitting that you think your best friend is the hottest person ever to walk the earth is a surefire way to send that friendship careening off the side of a mountain. So I never admitted it.
But if I had admitted it, I fantasized that he would admit it back to me.
With the same look on his face that he was wearing when he said it to my father. As if he meant it.
Mike settles at the piano and stretches his fingers above the keys. This is the moment my mother waits for all year long. It’s the moment that she sings Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas in front of everyone at the party. After two verses, everyone else joins in, and it’s a magical moment.
You’d think she had been a performer on stage.
It’s ridiculous, how much I still want her to like me. That’s underneath all the other layers, though. The layers that want to make her royally uncomfortable by the fact of me pretend-dating Ryan. Maybe I could have forgiven her for all the insults to me, but not all the things she’s said to Ryan over the years.
My mom tilts her face up so she’s bathed in the light from the tree and closes her eyes, waiting as Mike plays the first notes of the song. This is a special arrangement that my mom had commissioned just for her. It takes several bars for her to start to sing.
I feel like a live wire. Like any of the hammers in the piano could strike me and I’d vibrate myself right back to New York City.
Ry’s hand on my back is a soft touch. My whole body responds to his fingertips on my shirt. For an instant I’m shocked back to summer ten years ago, his hand in that same place before we jumped off the floating dock out on the lake. It was a thrill then. It’s a thrill now. Even though I’m really pissed at him.
“Really, Ry?” I can’t be too loud without my dad noticing. He’s probably ready to stroke out. I don’t dare look at him. I can’t meet anyone’s eyes in the room.
The murmur floats to me over the strains of the piano. “I meant it.”
My mom is fully into the song now, and I would give anything in the world to not have this conversation against the backdrop of her show carol. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” He sounds so sure, so casually sure.
“You’re taking it too far.” It’s hard to breathe, my heart pounding. “We’re just on a date.” Remember? Remember the game we’re supposed to be playing right now?
“No. I’m not taking it far enough.”
Goosebumps rise on the back of my neck. “Did you pregame before this? Is that what’s happening? I have got to stop letting you fly first class. It goes to your head.”
“I’m as sober as I’ve ever been in all my life.”
God help me. I can’t help leaning into him. My whole body pulls toward him even while I try to resist that pull. He’s warm and solid and so damn sexy I almost self-combust in a room full of people who’ve known me since I was a baby. “Then what are you saying?”
This is so close to the things I’ve fantasized about that I worry it’s a dream. If that’s true, then it’s more than a little sad. My parents can’t even be nice to me in dreamland. But my mom goes flat on one note in her song and—damn. I know it’s not a dream. It’s real. The wait between my question and Ryan’s answer is as big as the Grand Canyon.
“I’m saying, there are better games than pretending to be dating.”
My breath catches. “I don’t know. This is pretty fun.”
He traces those small circles on my lower back and laughs. I’ve heard that laugh so many times in my life. It happens sometimes in my dreams. “Let’s play truth or dare.”
“Dare.”
Normally, dare would be the courageous choice. Dare means taking action. It means doing something. It means leaping all the way outside your comfort zone by design. I have always chosen dare when Ryan and I play. It’s not because I’m really a person of action. It’s always hard for me to do the dares. But I choose dare anyway.
Because...
He could ask me for a truth I’m not willing to give.
It’s too hot in the room but I don’t want to step away from him.
One move, and our whole house of cards will come tumbling down. I cannot, under any circumstances, interrupt my mother’s song.
The Christmas spirit smiles on us and everyone else in the room starts singing.
I’ve always found this part of the song to be the most disconcerting. No one else can see how pretend it is, clearly. They’re all watching her with a familiar warmth in their eyes. That food pantry collection basket near the entrance? They don’t know that she pulls out the name-brand stuff for her own pantry before she takes it to the shelter. Or maybe they do know, and they don’t care.
Ry leans down and murmurs near my ear. “I dare you to date me.”
“We’re already dating,” I grumble. It’s not fair of him to say it. Not here in front of everyone. This is as close as I’ve ever gotten to being with Ryan the way I secretly want to be in my heart of hearts, and it’s an illusion just to make my parents mad. Goal achieved. We could quit any minute now. The fifteen minutes I said I’d spend at the party are almost gone.
“No, Ellie. I dare you to date me for real.”
I turn in his arms, ready to laugh at how ridiculous he’s being, how absurd, how Ry
an. I’m expecting to see the joke in his eyes and a forgive-me smile on his lips.
But no.
His blue eyes are dead serious.
They’re as serious as that time junior year, when he told me that there was no way in hell I’d be going to the winter prom alone. Ryan didn’t have any money back then but he meant it. He meant it, and he somehow, somehow, came up with a suit and tie that made me fall in love with him.
Oh my god.
He’s going to kiss me.
And even though my father is six feet away and scowling I’m leaning into his touch. We’re inches apart. If this happens, I’m going to ruin the party. If this happens then my parents will never forgive me, not ever. Not for dating Ryan.
Not for kissing him in front of the entire town.
I’m never going to forgive myself.
My heart is a winter bird, a caged thing that’s flapping its wings and disturbing all the nearby snow. All the sweetness from the plate Ryan brought me clouds my mind. My thoughts are a Christmas carol on an endless loop.
My mother stops singing.
There’s something else.
It’s something that supersedes the party, the holidays, my parents. It’s a burning flame at the core of me that won’t go out. It’s basically the heart of my adult integrity. Does that sound weird? Well, it is. But it’s also true. The one touchstone that’s never failed me. Not in high school, not in college, never. I have gotten on planes for this principle. I’ve skipped study hall. I’ve gone on scavenger hunts from one end of New York City to the other.
I’ve never turned down a dare from Ryan.
4
Ellie
“Time’s up.”
I don’t know who I’m saying it for—me or him. What I do know is that my dad is a ticking time bomb. He might say Ryan’s all grown up, but if Ryan kisses me here, he’s going to get dragged out by the collar of his shirt.
Ryan raises an eyebrow. “You want to get out of here?”
“I tried not to come here in the first place, remember? This was your idea.” I keep my voice low to avoid being overheard by everyone crowded around us. Ryan lets out a breath.
“Just one of the many excellent ideas I’ve had tonight.” He kisses my hand again and the heat of his lips to my skin is flame to a candle wick. Oh, holy night.
I go to hug my mom, who is busy accepting praise for the one song she can sing. She does not linger over the hug. Distracted before it’s over. Small blessings, right?
My dad is still scowling in the center of the crowd and I throw my arms around his middle and hug him tight. I was a daddy’s girl once, before he was hellbent on being an asshole to Ryan at every possible opportunity. I like to remind him of that.
“Merry Christmas, Daddy.” His arms tighten around me. I can tell he’s having delusions of kicking Ryan out and grounding me right now. But then he lets go.
Someone else is reaching in.
Ryan. “Nice to see you, Mr. Morrison. Happy holidays.”
My dad grits his teeth. He’s always been big on politeness. About shaking a man’s hand when he offers it. About arresting kids who are just trying to survive. Every person is such a contradiction. He’s as red-faced as I’ve ever seen him when he shakes Ryan’s hand. “You’re not leaving already?”
“Gotta go,” I sing. “We have a date tonight.”
Ryan says something else that I can’t hear over the rush of blood in my head. I’ve never, never, taken a stand on the issue of the Christmas party. Two years ago I didn’t arrive until two hours after the party had started. My mom’s frozen stare could have killed me. It almost did kill me. Ryan had to listen to me fret about it for weeks afterward.
But this is not two years ago, and he’s already helping me with my coat, already steering me down the front steps and onto the sidewalk.
“Blitzen’s is closed,” I tell him. It’s a cold, crisp night with a million stars.
He shoots me a look that makes me laugh. “I’m not taking you back to a diner. If we’re dating, we’re going somewhere nice.”
“Where?”
“You’ll see.”
Forty minutes later, Ryan pulls up in front of the nicest hotel that I’ve ever seen. Not personally, just on Instagram. It’s a historical building that’s been renovated to a high shine. I looked up the prices for a night here once.
Wow.
Ryan gets out and tosses the keys to a valet, then offers me his arm to go in. It’s four stories of white and window, all of it lit up for the holidays.
“You’re this rich?”
“No. I’m just trying to impress you.” Heat rushes across my face. Odds are he’s joking. But then again...maybe not.
We go inside the huge, warm lobby to a cozy bar off the back. A long strip of windows looks out over a snow-covered courtyard with stone benches and a wrought-iron fence. Ryan chooses the two seats at the bar closest to the fireplace and orders us drinks. “Is this what it’s like, then? You do this for all the ladies?”
Ryan sips at his drink and looks at me over the rim of the glass. “I’ve been known to buy a drink or two for a person. It’s not usually like this.”
“Why?” I mean, look at him. He could date any person he wants to. He doesn’t have to dare me to go on a date with him.
“I’ve never been that interested in other dates.”
He’s ordered me a 7&7, which is my favorite thing, but it’s not the whiskey that sets me on fire. “It seems like maybe you forgot to mention that for fifteen years.”
“You’re right, El. I did.”
I can feel him looking at me but I don’t turn toward him. If I do that now I’ll just fall into his arms and that will be that. We’ll never be able to go back to the way we were. It won’t even be an option.
“Why?”
“Probably the same reason you didn’t say it to me.”
Now I do glare at him. “You’re calling me out on this?”
The smile that curves his lips is so intoxicating it might as well be another drink. Down the hatch. I’m drunk. “Am I wrong?”
This is it—this is the moment when I could turn back from this precipice we’re at. I could laugh. I could deny it. I could hurt him, and I could guarantee us a few rough months followed by a gradual reckoning.
I can’t be that person. Even if it hurts me to admit it. The shame of it is so hot and uncomfortable that I wish we were still out in the snow. “No. You’re not wrong.”
Is that relief I see in his eyes? It’s there and gone again in a single blink.
“You could have asked me out.” There—the thing that’s making a knot in my throat. “You could have asked me any time.”
Ryan covers my hand with his. “When? While your dad was busy stalking me all over the city?”
“You could have told me.”
“I’m telling you now,” he says. “Doesn’t make it right, what I did, keeping this from you...” His eyes search mine, and damn it, I would forgive him anything. That’s the thing about having Ryan Olsen as your best friend. He looks at you with those eyes and that face and there’s just no other option but to love him. “How can I make it up to you?”
I clear my throat and blink away the last remnants of this old, stupid pain. “It’s my turn. Truth or dare?”
“Dare.” He doesn’t hesitate.
“Which, by the way, it’s bullshit that you dared me to go on a date with you.”
“I did not.”
I turn the full force of my skepticism on him. “You didn’t?”
“No. I didn’t dare you to go on a date with me. I dared you to date me. That means more than one date. Now, go ahead. It’s your turn.”
He’s having too much fun with this. If it weren’t for the color in his cheeks and the brightness to his eyes, I wouldn’t think I had any effect. But I do have an effect. He’s just trying to play it cool.
Two can play that game.
“Your dare.” I pretend to consider it while I fini
sh my drink. My pulse beats hard in the side of my neck. The old me would never have thrown down a gauntlet like this, but it’s almost Christmas. We’re already in this. “I double-dare you to take me upstairs to your room and have sex with me.”
I’m pretty sure Ryan’s brain shuts down. He watches me like I’ve spoken a language he doesn’t understand.
He swallows.
He’s very, very still.
Maybe I should be worried. This can’t be a good reaction. Fresh embarrassment stings my eyes and I’m ready to take it back, ready to call this whole thing off, when Ryan shifts on his barstool.
The movement draws my attention down to the front of his pants.
“What you’ve done is very wrong,” he says. He signals the bartender and puts an enormous tip on the bar. “Unfair, Ellie. It’s not in the Christmas spirit.”
“I think that’s up for debate.”
“We can talk about it upstairs.”
5
Ryan
Ellie sticks close to my side in the elevator, her arm hooked around mine like she’s afraid I might disappear if she lets go.
That’s the last thing on earth that’s going to happen. I wouldn’t leave her right now if an angel swooped down in front of me to tell me that Christ was born. Not a damn chance.
“You look so serious,” she whispers.
“I’m trying not to fuck you in the elevator, El.”
Ellie turns bright red at that, which makes it even harder to wait for the doors to option.
The elevator lets us off on the top floor of the building. There are two suites up here, separated by a wide lobby. I guide Ellie to the door on the right. Open it. Take her inside.
And I’m expecting for her to comment on the suite. On the fact that it has a big living room, a separate dining area, a full kitchen. Two large bedrooms. I have a tour offer on my tongue. A way to get her from the doorway to the bedroom. A way to slow things down in case she’s having second thoughts.
