by Leila Lucas
I hear his phone vibrate and light up, but the light quickly disappears. For some reason something as small as not texting someone else back because he was talking to me made me feel special.
“I’ve never been in love.” This took me by surprise. I can’t imagine someone like Dylan not being in a big relationship at least once in his twenty-four years. But maybe there’s something wrong with him that I haven’t discovered yet.
“Not even with Jenna?” I blurt out.
“No,” he simply says.
“I have never been on a perfect date.”
“And what does a romance writer consider the perfect date to be?”
“Being whisked away to a private island by helicopter. Then having a single table surrounded by hundreds of candles waiting for me in the middle of the beach. My date would greet me, while wearing a suit and handing me a glass of champagne.” I wait for his reaction.
“Meh, that’s a pretty standard date. That’s why I invested in my own island and helicopter. I expected something extravagant coming from you.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“You know that thing where you’re so lost in conversation that you don’t notice you’re the last two people left at the restaurant? No awkward silences. No spare time to second-guess your demeanor. Just you being yourself without even realizing that you aren’t trying to portray a better image of who you are.” I pause. “That’s my perfect date.”
“In that case, I haven’t had your perfect date either.” Yet somehow tonight feels really close to one.
“I spent months and months asking this girl out. She finally said yes, and on the day of our date I got a stomach bug but decided to man up and not cancel on her. Without going into too much detail, I spent more time in the bathroom than at the table in the restaurant.”
I laugh out loud, covering my mouth with my hands quickly before I wake anyone up.
“And before you ask, no, there was no second date after that.” He laughs too.
At some point in between other random questions I fell asleep.
DYLAN
“Dylan.” I can hear her whispering. “Dylan, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up.” Now she’s nudging me.
“Whaaat?” I manage to open one eye.
“WAKE UPPPP,” she almost yells. I quickly sit up in panic.
“Are you okay?” I grab her arms.
“Snowing! It’s snowing!” She looks at me wide-eyed. I glance at the clock and it’s just past six and the sun is barely up.
“It’s snowing? That’s why you’re waking me up like the house is on fire?” I ask.
“No! Well, yes, that’s why. But it’s snow!” She looks so excited I can’t really be mad at her for scaring me half to death. She’s still sitting right next to me in her cute pajamas, her hair still messy, and I can tell she’s waiting for me to suggest we go outside.
“Okay, well, we’ll go outside later. You and me are going back to sleep now.” I lay my head down on the pillow and close my eyes.
Wait for it…
“Dylan?” she whispers.
There it is.
“Hmmmm?”
“I can’t sleep when I know it’s snowing outside.”
You can’t say no to a cute face like hers. Especially not when it’s her cute morning face and the little pillow creases are still visible on her cheek.
“All right, give me five minutes to wake up.”
She does a little clap in front of her grin and runs off to put her boots on.
There’s something nice about being adults, in pajamas, playing in the snow while everyone is still asleep. And even nicer seeing someone experience snow for the first time. We’ve lived all over the country, so snow isn’t something new to me, but Chloe looks like she’s going to explode with excitement. There’s not too much snow on the ground, just enough to cover the lawn. Yet somehow she’s making a small snowman with her bare hands only covered by the thin material of her sleeves.
I make a small snowball and throw it at her, just missing her face.
“Hey! I’m trying to build a snowman here.” She doesn’t face me, but I can see her brows furrow. I quickly make another one and it hits her snowman, completely ruining it.
“Nooooo.” She pouts. “I can’t believe you killed him.” She turns her back to me again for a bit and then before I realize what’s happening a snowball hits me right in the face. The girl has aim. Unfortunately for her, I had already made a backup snowball and get her back. Right in the mouth. She starts spitting out some of the snow that made it inside her mouth and starts laughing. “Well, now I know what snow tastes like.” Another snowball hits me in the face.
I run after her and gently tackle her on the ground. It’s not until we finally stop laughing that I realize just how close my lips are to hers. She’s looking right into my eyes. I lean my forehead against hers before rolling off. “So hard,” I mumble. As soon as I say it, her eyes look down at my groin.
I throw my head back, laughing. “Trying not to kiss you is hard.” Although that is too. Because despite the snowman pajamas and my sweater that’s drowning her, she looks beautiful. I’m convinced she never looks bad. I help her up and we go back inside to dry off. While she’s in the bathroom having a shower and putting dry clothes on I set up the window seat with all the pillows and cushions I could find. Which wasn’t hard because my mom hoards cushions.
“What’s this?” She looks around.
“Come here and bring the blankets from the bed.” I sit down on the corner of the seat and tap the area in front me for her to sit. She grabs the blankets and sits in front of me, leaning back on my chest. I drape the blankets over both of us and put a pillow behind his head.
“It’s so nice here.”
“I used to sit here and write songs after school.”
“About all your girlfriends?” She looks up at me.
“Sometimes. But mostly made-up scenarios in my head. Sounds stupid, I know, but it worked.”
She laughs. “You’re telling that to someone who makes up scenarios for a living.”
“True. I guess you get it then.”
She nods.
“Who is the song ‘Home’ about, if you don’t mind me asking?” She plays with the tassels on the end of the blanket. I just noticed that one of her red nails has a small candy cane on it. My mom will be very proud of her Christmas spirit.
“It’s going to sound a bit weird, but it’s about my parents.” I hate explaining this to people. Sounds a bit creepy writing a love song about your parents and I usually just lie and say it’s about a girl, but the truth just falls out of my mouth with Chloe. “My dad was away a lot. He worked crazy hours and my mom’s entire life revolved around me and my brother. My dad missed so many Christmases and birthdays, but she always kept it together and made us feel like everything was still normal. Then I heard my mom break down on the phone to him late one night. I still don’t really know what happened. I guess it all just built up and she lost it. My dad came home the next night and he took two weeks off work to spend time with her. She has always been his number one.”
“I think that’s really sweet. I hope I find a love like that.”
As she sat there looking out the window daydreaming about her soul mate, I think I already found mine.
CHLOE
I turn around and see a shirtless Dylan asleep on his back, one arm under his head, the other draped across his front. And as much I’d love to just lie here and watch him sleep, I decide to see where all the noise is coming from downstairs. I can hear a Michael Buble’s Christmas song coming from the kitchen and head toward there.
Susan is wearing her festive Christmas apron, humming to the songs and packing mini Christmas pies into plastic containers.
“Merry Christmas.” As I said it I realized that this was the first time in ten years I’ve had someone to say it to in person.
“Merry Christmas, dear.” She smiles.
“Can I help?”
I grab the bowl and start.
“It’s nice having another woman around. These boys are no help, waking up so late, opening presents and watching movies all day.” She shakes her head.
“I’m happy to help. Thank you for having me. It’s nice being around people on the holidays again.”
“Where’s your mama?” She puts a cup of coffee in front of me.
“She lives in California. She’s spending Christmas in Switzerland this year with her husband.”
“Oh, darlin’, Christmas isn’t the same when you’re alone. I’m glad you decided to come spend time here. I’ve never seen my Dylan so happy either.” She looks at me.
“That’s because he has a hot girl to sleep next to. Who wouldn’t be happy?” Ben comes into the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.
“Benjamin Vincent Holt! Go to your room and put some pants on!” she yells at him.
“It’s Christmas. I don’t have to wear pants and I’m a grown man. I make my own decisions.” He walks past Susan and gets a mug from the shelf.
“Pants on now.” Susan swats him with a tea towel. Ben leaves his mug and stomps upstairs like a child throwing a tantrum. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I’ve muttered that sentence to that child.”
“It’s obvious which one was the handful.” I laugh.
“Is the handful. It never ends,” she says, laughing. “Dylan’s always been the quieter one and Ben could never get enough attention. They’re the complete opposites.” She takes off her apron. “I’m going to take these to the homeless shelter. Help yourself to some more coffee before the chaos starts.” She tilts her head toward the coffee machine.
“I won’t be long.”
I take my time peeling the rest of the potatoes, wash them, and clean up the dishes Susan hasn’t gotten around to doing this morning. I want to help out with so much more, but it looks like she has everything under control.
* * *
“This is for Chloe, although I’m sure she’ll share.” Susan places a huge white fruit-topped cake in the middle of the dessert buffet table. After the epic Christmas feast I don’t know how anyone will have room for dessert. If I knew how much food there would be I think I would have skipped all three meals yesterday in preparation. “I read up on the Internet that Pavlova is typical Australian Christmas dessert, so I wanted you to feel a little at home. Now, I’m not very sure if this is exactly how your mom makes this, but I tried.” The cake is topped with a red sauce, various berries, pomegranates, cherries, and what looks to be mint leaves. Naturally, it’s very Christmas themed and despite it being a very summery dessert it fits right in with the others on the table.
“Wow. I really don’t know what to say. It’s amazing. And definitely better than my mom’s.” I laugh. “You really didn’t have to, but thank you.” Although I have had plenty of Pavlova in my lifetime, not once was it made by my mom. I don’t think she even decorated a store-bought one.
“What is it?” Ben rotates the plate, examining it.
“It’s like a giant meringue topped with cream and fruit,” I explain.
“I need to move to Australia.” He cuts a slice and puts it on a plate for me, then gets two for himself. I watch him take the first bite and his eyes widen. “It’s like, wow, that’s too fucking sweet but then immediately after I need more.” He shoves another mouthful and closes his eyes.
“Ma, you outdid yourself,” Ben yells out to her.
“Dude, you better stick around with us for a long time so she keeps making this.”
“After this epic day, I don’t think I’ll ever spend Christmas anywhere else, whether I’m invited or not,” I half joke.
“What did I miss?” Dylan walks in. “Those kids didn’t let me leave until I finished in the top three in the race. Either I’m getting old or kids are getting super smart, but they kept kicking my ass.” He takes the spoon off Ben’s plate and takes a mouthful of the cake. “Ugh, what is this? Tastes like soap.” He swallows really fast and makes a cute face as he tries to get the taste off his tongue.
“It’s Palooza and it’s delicious.” Ben shakes his head at Dylan.
“Pavlova,” I correct him.
“Either way it’s disgusting. I’m going to go get a beer to get the taste out of my mouth. Want anything?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Me too, bro, thanks for asking.” He gives him the finger. I really wish I had siblings, even if it looks like they annoy you a majority of the time.
As soon as Dylan walks to the kitchen and I can see a girl behind Ben jump out of her seat and power walk to catch up to him. She’s trying to look subtle, but it’s really obvious she was waiting for him to be alone.
“Who’s that?” Please say cousin.
Ben tilts his head to see behind me. “Oh, that’s Emma.” He stuffs his mouth with more Pavlova.
I stare at him, waiting for more information. He didn’t say Cousin Emma. Just Emma. Emma who is a tall redhead with piercing green eyes. Okay, so maybe I studied her a little too hard when she ran after Dylan, but she’s pretty and chasing the cute boy I like.
“Oh, sorry, Emma is Davie’s girlfriend.” He points to a guy holding a baby.
Thank God.
“Well, she was his girlfriend. They broke up last year, but they’re good friends, so she came along too.”
Noooo.
“And the baby is…” The baby is tiny, probably around a month or two old. It’s bundled up in a cute Christmas themed onesie.
“That’s Kevin and Michael’s daughter. She’s the newest addition to the family.”
I see two men doing very high-pitched squeals at the baby. I’m guessing they’re the very new proud parents. I wonder if my mom ever looked at me like that.
“Did Emma bring someone?” I regret asking that the second it came out. It wasn’t even slightly subtle. I avoid eye contact with Ben and look around at everyone behind him.
“You’re either into Emma, which is really hot and I’d want to watch. Or into my brother, which is cool but nothing I’d want to watch.” He leans over a little to see them better. “She is now doing the flirty hair around the finger thing you girls do if you want a guy. Better make your move quickly.”
“What? No! I’m just wondering.” I’m so tempted to turn around and watch Emma and Dylan in the kitchen, but I’m being too obvious already.
“Mmmhmm.” He smiles to himself. “Want to switch places so you can spy without looking suspicious?”
“Yeah, because randomly switching positions won’t look suspicious.” I laugh.
“Oh, so she does want to look.”
I want to bang my head against a wall right now. Susan, who has the most perfect timing in the world, yells out to Ben to help bring the gifts out.
“Saved by the bell.” He winks. “Just so you know, Emma’s had a thing for Dylan for a while and all the flirting hasn’t got her anywhere. So there’s nothing to worry about over there.” He puts his empty plate down on the side table and walks toward the young boy sitting near the Christmas tree.
I think I’ve always been so smitten by Dylan that I’ve never paid proper attention to Ben.
Not like that. Ben’s not my type. He’s just that guy who’s a wild child at heart, yet would turn serious the second you needed him. I’ve never really had any male friends. They were either dating a friend of mine and we’d just exchange hellos or we’d end up sleeping together, which gets weird and the friendship is dead before it even properly began.
“Okay, everyone, time to open gifts,” Roy shouts at everyone and within seconds all the kids—and Ben—are sitting in front of the tree. The Holts don’t open any gifts until Christmas lunch is over. Susan, the Christmas expert, says it makes the day last longer when you have something else to look forward to after the food. I was dreading this moment because Dylan didn’t giv
e me much notice and I came here completely empty-handed. Thankfully the house is filled with people and gifts, so nobody will notice that I’m the absolute worst guest ever. I already asked Vikki for the name of a great florist so I can at least send them some flowers and a thank-you note.
Everyone went from calmly listening to their name being called out to violently unwrapping their gifts. Most kids are squealing with delight and the adults are walking around thanking the gift givers. I take Ben’s camera that he left on the chair and start snapping away. Susan gushing over whatever gorgeous piece is in her Tiffany’s box, Dylan throwing a ball of wrapping paper at one of their cousins, the two cute dads giggling at their daughter wearing a frog beanie.
“Are you ko-wee?” The sweetest little girl asks me, shoving her face in the lens.
“Yes, I am.”
“This is fo you from Santa Kaws.” She places a silver box on my lap and before I can say anything, she runs back to the pile of presents. I’m assuming there’s another Chloe here because nobody would have had time to get me a gift even if they were going to. I look at Ben for help, but he’s too busy playing with his new iPad Pro, so I scan the room for Dylan. I point at my present and shrug, hoping he’d come over and figure this out for me, but he just mouths Merry Christmas before getting distracted by someone giving him a hug. He bought me a present. Which is sweet, so, so sweet but so much more awkward now.
I put the camera down and slowly start to unwrap the perfectly tied white silky bow. I want to be like the kids and just rip it open, but I’m trying to act completely cool about this. I’m dying to know what he picked out for me. By the time I’ve unwrapped it, the kids have put on their many layers of clothes and are running into the backyard to play in the snow with their toys. The parents are all retreating to another room, which I think might be the games room. The lounge area is almost empty with just the sounds of a handful of people picking up wrapping paper and putting champagne glasses away.
I take the tissue paper out to reveal a layer of Kate Spade notebooks, pens, and the cutest bow paper clips. The boy must be very observant because we’ve never had any conversations about things like this, unless Vikki helped him out. Once I piled all my pretty Kate Spade goodies next to me I see something underneath another layer of tissue paper. I pull out a chunky knit scarf and can’t wipe the smile off my face.
