by Kat Pace
“Why Christmas?” I ask him the question that’s been bothering me since last night.
He looks at me and I can tell he knows exactly what I am talking about.
“It’s one month.” Brooks shrugs beneath me. “Maybe I can visit again.”
Don’t do it.
“Actually, I don’t think you’ll be able to visit,” I whisper against his skin.
“Are you revoking my visiting privileges? Now who is bipolar?” Brooks nudges me.
“No, it’s not that.”
Don’t you fucking do it, Emmy.
“Are your parents traipsing the globe, again?” He laughs. “Where are you going this time?”
“Home, actually.” I smirk.
“Home?” He repeats, looking at me with wide eyes. Surprised Brooks.
“I’ll be home for Christmas.” I say. I’m so WEAK. No shame. I need to have him again.
“You haven’t been home for the holidays in like eight years.” Brooks laughs, almost incredulous.
True. Who knew he was keeping count. I can’t bring myself to look at him. I can’t admit to him that the reason I’m finally allowing myself home for the holidays is because I no longer fear myself around him.
I mean I do still of course, but in a different kind of way. In a way where the relapse means crazy good sex and not existential depression.
“Why now?” Brooks asks.
“My aunt is hosting the benefit at the B&B this year. Can’t remember what cause it’s for this year. Promised my mom I’d be back to help,” I say.
He’s got nothing *everything* to do with it.
“You know, as it just so happens I will be home too.” Brooks watches me from the pillow. My arm starts to go numb under the tiny circles he’s tracing on my skin.
“That,” I say, “is a very happy coincidence.”
He laughs at me and pulls me in. I feel my waist touch his.
“Maybe we will run into each other.”
We laugh. I roll over on top of him. I press my hips into his. He raises himself to me.
“Maybe.” I agree. “It is a small town.”
“It’s a date then?” Brooks’s hungry eyes search mine.
“Woah,” I hold up my hand. “It’s a little soon to be asking me out.”
Brooks laughs. “Fine, I take it back. Offer rescinded.”
“Actually,” I pause, biting my lip. “I don’t think I could bear the look of disappointment if I show up alone. So…”
“Are you asking me on a date?” Brooks feigns shock.
“Don’t get overexcited.” I shoe him away. “There won’t be a limo or anything.”
His head tilts back with laughter. I catch his smell, but I don’t know if it’s from his skin or mine now. I nudge my lips against his neck.
“I could pencil you in,” he says, smiling as I plant kisses along his jaw. “One more time.”
The Blackest Friday
8:00 AM
“Wake up. Em, wake up.”
I roll over and my palms find Brooks’s bare chest next to me. His smile extra playful.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning. You always look incredible in my T-shirt,” he says, squeezing my butt.
“You always have incredible T-shirts,” I smirk.
Brooks leans in to kiss me. I feel his hand slide under the shirt on my butt and travel to my front. “You know, I do have a few minutes.”
“Brooks!” I squeal.
He kisses me hard on the lips. How’s he taste so good in the morning? Like he always does. My hair stands on edge when he grabs it at the base of my neck. He pulls my one leg up over his abs. I can feel my breath get heavier, harder to catch. Gliding his hand down my thigh, he stops between my legs. I can feel his lips smile beneath mine.
“Em,” he says. “Always ready for me.”
I moan as his fingers slide in. My hips move into his body, trying to get more. His lips kiss me even harder as both his hands tighten on my body. In a swift motion he’s rolling me under him and kissing his way down my stomach.
There’s really nothing quite like it. Feeling his hands on me, in me, as his mouth plants wet kisses over me. My hips try their best to rise from the bed in anticipation, but Brooks’s hands hold me in place. My hands find his shaggy hair and I grip my nails into his scalp.
“Brooks,” I whine, biting my lip.
He gives in. Brooks slides his fingers down again and slides them in as his mouth closes over top of me. He moves his head forward and back and his hands in and out. Then he switches. And his thumb rubs over me, harder, as his tongue goes deeper. My hands tighten, making small fistfuls of his hair.
What a way to wake up.
“Fuck,” I breathe, panting heavily.
“You’re welcome.” He climbs back up the bed next to me and plops down on the pillow.
I laugh, nudging his shoulder with my face. “I didn’t say thank you.”
“You can, the next time we hang out,” Brooks smirks. “You can return the favor.”
“Are you volunteering me?” I raise my eyebrow.
“Sure am. And believe me, I will collect,” he says, narrowing his eyes.
We only get five more minutes of morning peace before the Leave begins –the Leave I’ve been dreading since I saw him next to the palm tree at Go Zen. The last two days felt almost normal, like the beginning of a routine. My loft will feel empty without him.
At least Thanksgiving was late this year. Means Christmas is less than one month away.
“Do you have to go so early?” I whine between sips of my coffee.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Brooks sips from his own mug. He’s running around my studio picking up articles of clothing.
“Why do you have to go, even?” I pout like a six-year-old girl who doesn’t want to get dressed for school.
“Just a small reason called… it’s my company, my job.” Brooks laughs at my eye roll.
“Oh, big deal.” I roll over on my stomach. “Like people would notice if you didn’t show up.”
“That,” Brooks says, turning to face me, “is extremely rude.”
“You’re extremely rude for leaving.”
“Just doing my duty. Have to keep you wanting more,” Brooks teases.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I smirk.
“Just the ones I like.”
What a simple word: Like. Like, he like likes me. You hate yourself for understanding that sentence don’t you?
I should be more perturbed by this entire scenario right now. Him openly saying he likes me right down to me whining that he has to leave. Not the mention the fact that I agreed to save myself for Christmas. Like, who does that?
“Do you have time for breakfast? Coffee?” I ask.
“You’re literally drinking coffee.” Brooks laughs at me, pulling on his sweatshirt.
“I know, so?” I smirk.
“So. You stay here. Warm and cozy and I’ll be wishing I was back here with you,” Brooks says.
Damn.
“You could just… stay with me,” I smile over my cup.
“Stop being a terrible influence. I have to work,” Brooks says.
“You like, never work.”
“Exactly. After this weekend I will be free for a while. Any plans next weekend?”
“Um,” I think about it. Chill. “Yup.”
“Well, Christmas is less than a month away. I’ll see you in no time.” Brooks zips his duffle and drops it by the door. He crosses the only counter in my fake kitchen and leans down to my face.
Brooks puts his hand on my neck and rests his thumb on my cheek the way he always does. My heart picks up a little the way he looks at me. I’m thinking of my dress on the floor of his hotel room. His chest against mine in a slightly crushing manner. Thinking of how badly I want him right now.
My lips are warm from his breath, but he won’t kiss me. It’s too much of a goodbye. And we don’t do goodbyes.
“Better
get outta here while you can.” I smirk.
“I better,” he nods.
I do Black Friday things:
Coffee run
Window shopping
Lunch with Zoë
Actual shopping
I brave the downtown boutiques long enough to find a killer dress I’ll wear for the benefit. I’m already imagining Brooks’s face when he sees me in it. I also find adorable heels and several sweaters. All about the sweater weather. I help Zoë pick out a new duvet cover and matching throw pillows.
In between the shopping and the coffee, I spend my time missing Brooks. I spend my time thinking about him. He’s almost everywhere I look. I see him in every guy I pass that’s my age with dark hair –every man wearing gym/workout clothes.
I also see Christmas. Decorations are everywhere. They’ve taken over. It’s a reminder that while people apparently don’t understand premature holiday spirit, Christmas is only one month away. In less than a month actually, I’ll be east coast bound once again.
Lunch & Lattes
My duffle is packed on my bed. I do one last sweep and grab the condoms from my bedside. The box hasn’t been touched since Thanksgiving. I smile to myself. I kept my promise.
Hate that I find myself wondering if he did.
Prob not.
I’m low-key used to the flight now. Well, it feels more ordinary than last time. Last time I made this trip I had a handful of information that assured me I was really flying to my doom. This time, well, same. But in a better way.
Instead of worrying about a bonfire, I worry about the man next to me. He’s been playing a crossword for three hours and he’s still missing half the clues. I’m playing over his shoulder and I’ve already solved it twice. It’s Elvis, you idiot!
It makes my eyes heavy and before I know it I’m falling forward. You know, that weird falling asleep sensation. I blink and the plane is landing. My half-poured ginger ale has left condensation all over my tray table.
“Trays away and please return your seats to an upright position.” The attendant says.
I straighten up and wipe the drool from my face. My mouth is dry and I know I must have slept with it open. I down the ginger ale and toss the plastic cup in the trash when it comes down the aisle.
Here we go.
I wheel my carry-on straight through baggage claim. The automatic doors open and close, open and close. Flurries fly in when people walk out. I button and belt my pea coat and wrap the scarf tighter around my neck. The flurries land like frozen bites on my face as I walk into the mild snowstorm.
Brooks pulls up to the Arrivals curb in his old pick-up truck. Him leaning out the window, hair covered with white, smiling at me could be a snapshot from 10 years ago.
No. I remind myself. Not the same Brooks.
He’s out on the curb next to me. Silent but smiling like he’s just seeing something really funny for the first time. Brooks tosses my duffle into his truck and I climb into the passenger seat, moving the Edge hoodie into my lap. His car smells like his old bedroom –like him.
I just allow myself one weak ass moment. An ogle fest. I’m disappointed in myself tbh but sure as shit not disappointed in him. His hair is longer than it was one month ago in Seattle. It almost grazes his shoulders now, perfect curtains framing his perfect fucking lips and smile and teeth that are blinding me right now. He leans in across the center console and cups my chin in his hand.
“Missed you.” He moves so fucking close but doesn’t kiss me. He knows it KILLS ME.
“You too.” Shit! I can’t help myself. High key into it. I pull my face free from his hand. I don’t need this kiss.
“Do I still have to drop you off?” He asks, exaggerating a frown face.
“Yes. Please. You know they’ll hunt us down if you don’t. Plus, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I know, I know. Can’t keep Trix waiting.” He rolls his eyes.
“My dutiful chauffeur.” I quip.
“I’ll drop your bag off at your parents’ house?” Brooks asks.
“Sure, thanks,” I say.
He drops me at the café on the main strip downtown. This place looks like a postcard. Yuck. Warmth washes over me when I step inside. Warmth and cinnamon sticks. I think I just swallowed a candle.
“EM!” Trix shouts as soon as I step in the door.
“Hey!” Meg follows.
Trix and Meg are already sitting down in a corner booth, waiting for me. I slide in next to them, dusting the table with snowflakes as I take off my scarf.
“Hi guys,” I laugh.
“Still snowing, then?” Meg says, looking at my scarf.
“Always.” I nod.
“Well, I love the snow. It’s so charming.” Trix is eye-rolling at us. “It’s so festive.”
“It sure is,” I nod. She beams.
They drawl on and on about Travis and Nate and their perfect nights and perfect days and just how perfect everything in Cape May has been the last four months I’ve been away.
We order lunch and I’m halfway picking through my salad when I stop listening to them. Not on purpose. I’m not a total bitch (yea right). I just find it hard to focus on their conversation. It’s like I’m here just for show. Maybe that’s fine.
Meg leads us to the lounge couch and orders us a round of lattés. I’m three sips in when my attention is caught by the words New Years. I look up and my face must appear startled.
“Emmy,” Trix whines. “Have you literally even been listening to us?”
“Hmm. Yes, of course.” I lie into my coffee cup.
“You just got here and you’re already not here.” Meg echoes. DEEP. She knows. She may play with her hair and stare at her coffee, but she knows.
“I am listening… You’re talking about New Years and speaking of… I may have plans for us all.” I manage a smile.
Well, I’m sure it looked more a sort of pained grimace but I’m sure they’re too curious to notice.
They squeal. A surefire sign my words had the desired effect.
“Perfect timing as we were just saying our plans fell through. Alex broke up with Brittany. The weekend was supposed to be at her cabin.”
“Brittany? What happened to Krissy?” I ask.
“Krissy, who was she?” Meg looks at Trix.
“I think that blonde from the summer?” She shrugs in a who-cares kind of way.
“No that was Katie,” Trix says, matter-of-factly. She takes a long sip from her mug.
“Oh yea, Katie,” Meg laughs.
“I liked Katie,” I say, shrugging. “Anyway, task at hand is New Years,” I backpedal. “Or aren’t you two even listening?”
“Good one,” Meg laughs.
“Course we’re listening,” Trix rolls her eyes. “What may these plans of yours be?”
OK. Here goes.
“Well, it’s sort of a …secret party.” I begin. Gotta let them stew in the anticipation a bit longer. If I know Trix and Meg at all, they’re not expecting plans of this caliber.
“A secret party?” Trix repeats my words. She tries to sound skeptical but her face betrays her. Really, she’s shit at poker.
“My father was invited really; invitation from some fancy person he keeps in touch with from school. It’s in Vail.” I pause.
“Vail?!” Trix gawks, eyes going wide.
“Like, Colorado?” Meg asks.
“Like Vail, Colorado.” I laugh at them.
You know, I take in the moment. Take in the two of them clinging to their coffee mugs like lifelines as they hang on my every word. I envy them. Their blatant ignorance-is-bliss/my-boyfriend-is-perfect/what’s-the-NYE-plan mentality. It’s a state of mind really. Don’t get me wrong, I love them to death. Pretty basic though.
“Tell us more!” Trix nods.
“It’s a Roaring 20s party. Secluded. Secret Party. Think speakeasy-esque. Midnight Prohibition.”
“At some resort? In a hotel?” Meg’s eyes are lighting up. She loves a good
party.
“Slow down, girl. At a resort, but not in a hotel. It’s a private spot somewhere on the mountain. I don’t actually know where exactly–”
