North of Light

by J. M. Paul

Oh God. Good, good, hand.

  His chin skims along my neck, and the stubble tickles and thrills me. It awakens a need that has been dormant for way too long.

  The air in my lung hitches, and it seems impossible, but Connor presses even closer. My body trembles beneath his heated touch, sending little electrical currents zinging under my skin.

  I don’t ever want him to stop feeling me. I don’t ever want to stop feeling him. For the first time in a long time, it’s like I’m finally alive.

  “Connor?”

  Why am I speaking?

  “Hmm?” he hums against my shoulder and nibbles me again.

  My knees go weak.

  “This shouldn’t happen.” My voice quivers. “This isn’t”—I gulp—“helping.”

  “I promised I wouldn’t kiss you, and I’m not.” His warm lips drag across my collarbone again and back up my neck. “So, we’re not doing anything wrong,” he whispers in my ear, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

  I lick my lips. “This seems a hell of a lot more intimate than kissing.”

  Connor pulls back, his hungry jade eyes capturing me in their spell. “Then, you’ve never been kissed properly.”

  The spaceship ringtone sounds again, causing me to jump. Connor curses under his breath, pulls out the annoying device, and presses Ignore. But not before I see the name Emily flash on his screen with a picture of a pretty blonde girl. The sight sobers every erotic feeling inside me that Connor awakened.

  Connor exhales an exasperated huff and shoves his phone back in his pocket.

  “I won’t be someone’s side chick.” My tone is low but firm.

  Connor stills, his gaze slowly meeting mine. He studies me, and I can only imagine what he sees.

  “You think that’s what you’d be to me?” He sounds offended.

  I brush past him, and this time, he lets me go. My body immediately misses the heat and feel of him.

  “Noel.”

  “What, Connor? What?” I raise my arms when I face him and let them loudly slap against my legs when they fall. Sexual frustration is swirling out of control in my system, and my patience is almost nonexistent.

  Connor glances down the hallway—more than likely checking to make sure Cami’s still asleep—and steps toward me.

  I move backward, my calves bumping into the coffee table.

  “Don’t be like this,” he pleas. “What we could have, what almost happened between us”—he points behind him to the spot on the wall where some of my sexual fantasies with him almost came true—“is real. You mean something to me.”

  “Right along with every other girl in your life.” I lift my chin.

  His forehead wrinkles.

  “Cami, whoever Emily is—”

  As if on cue, his phone starts to ring and vibrate. I arch a brow.

  “Damn it.” After he silences his cell again, his pleading gaze captures mine.

  I continue as if we weren’t interrupted by one of my cases in point. “The hens at the bar, and I’m certain you have a larger flock than that. I just haven’t had the pleasure of meeting them all yet.”

  His shoulders slump, and he lowers his head. When he glances back up, his expression is thoughtful, serious.

  “Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t want any of the other women? That I find them exhausting and typical and desperate? There’s a fire in you, Noel, and God help me, but I’m drawn to it. I want to be singed by your heat.”

  “Moth to a flame,” I murmur to myself.

  “Yes.” He moves toward me.

  “Nothing can happen between us, Connor. Nothing’s changed.”

  “Everything’s changed.” He steps into me. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one who feels what’s between us because it’d be a lie.”

  “I feel it, but …” I bite my lip.

  Connor watches the motion, and there’s something carnal about his gaze.

  “But what?” he groans.

  “Cami.” I tug at the sleeves of my sweatshirt.

  That one word is like someone throwing a bucket of ice-cold water over us. Connor releases a heavy sigh and runs his hands through his hair. I slump down onto the couch.

  “Cami and I are just friends.” He paces the floor.

  When I remain mute, he stops and faces me.

  “I’ve heard that song and dance before,” I say simply.

  “But it’s true.” His arm lifts and then falls.

  I stare at him.

  “Okay, so we were once friends who messed around a little, but that shit’s been over.” He sits next to me on the couch. “Ever since I met you, I haven’t seen anyone else.”

  “Don’t feed me your bullshit lines, Connor. I’m not one of your hussies.”

  He jerks back as if he’s insulted. “That wasn’t bullshit.”

  “Your smooth-talking won’t change anything between us,” I say dryly.

  He releases an exasperated breath. “What do you want from me, Noel?”

  “The truth. It’s the easiest thing to remember.”

  Neither of us says anything while we listen to Connor’s foot tap against the carpet and Cami’s muffled snoring from down the hall. I pull at a loose strand on my leggings and worry my mouth.

  “Stop doing that,” Connor grounds out.

  “Doing what?”

  Connor tugs at my chin to release my lip from my teeth.

  “Biting your lip. It makes me want to do it, and I’m not allowed.” His statement comes out rough.

  “No, you’re not.” I sound like a petulant child.

  He growls under his breath, leans forward, and places his elbows on his knees. “What do you want to know?”

  “What’s Cami to you?”

  “A friend. I told you that.” He turns his head to address me.

  “Does she know you’re only friends?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she accept that?”

  “Yes. We had the talk several days ago. I told you, Noel, nothing’s happened between us since I met you.”

  I clear my throat, and maybe my heart gets a little lighter with that statement.

  “Who—” I stop myself.

  “What? What else do you want to know?” Connor brushes my hair over my shoulder, so he can see me better.

  “Who’s Emily?” I study him through my lashes.

  He scratches his cheek, pulls his hand through his hair, and shifts on the couch. “She’s”—he swallows audibly and stares over my shoulder—“an ex-girlfriend.”

  He had a girlfriend? I thought he was a perpetual player?

  “And she’s still calling you?”

  “It’s … complicated.” He hangs his head and doesn’t explain any further.

  If he’s going to pin me against walls and elicit feelings inside me like he does, I deserve to know more than, “It’s complicated,” because everything in life is difficult.

  I stand and move to the other side of the coffee table.

  “I don’t do evasive answers, Connor. And I also don’t do complicated. I have enough crap to deal with, so I don’t need you or yours.”

  I mean for my statement to upset Connor, but it has the opposite effect. His face softens, and his gaze stays on mine as he stands and walks to me.

  Running his finger down my cheek, he swirls it around my mouth until he pulls my bottom lip from my teeth again.

  “I know you do, Journal Girl,” he says tenderly. “I don’t plan on loading you down with my baggage. I’ll handle it, but in the meantime”—he steps closer and bends, so his mouth rests against my ear—“I’m going to drive you crazy until you can’t deny our chemistry. And, while I’m working my charm on you, I’m also going to make you fall in love with Christmas again.”

  He taps his finger against my nose and winks, and then the door quietly clicks shut behind him.

  Pity Tree

  The next morning, loud banging against my front door wakes me. I curse the heavy-handed person and pledge to make a vo
odoo doll of them when I’m back to being human—and that transformation should take about three more hours of sleep and buckets of coffee.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  “Go away!” My yelling is useless. They can’t hear me while I’m back here, snuggled up nice and warm in my comfortable cloud of happiness.

  “Cami,” I call.

  Nothing.

  She’s probably still passed out from her drunken splurge or hugging the porcelain throne.

  “Ugh.” I fling the covers back, sit up, and shove my feet into my slippers.

  Shivering, I rub my hands up and down my arms and yawn as I walk out of my room. On my way to the door, I check on Cami. She’s still in bed, her chest gently rising and falling, so I know she’s not dead.

  Bam. Bam. Bam.

  “Hold your horses,” I grumble.

  My neighbors will kill whomever it is if they don’t stop pounding down my door.

  “What the hell is so damn urgent?” I growl when I fling the entrance open.

  “Merry Christmas!”

  I blink against the light and slowly focus on Connor. He’s staring down at me with sparkly eyes and jubilation on his face. I want to smack his head right off his shoulders.

  The frigid air blows in through the cracked door, and I shudder.

  “Are you going to stand there all day or let us in?” Connor asks.

  “Us?”

  “Hey, Lunar.” Trey peeks around the joyful idiot and waves.

  Connor shifts something on his shoulder.

  “What the hell is that?” I point to the offending object.

  “It’s a Christmas tree,” Connor says.

  “No duh. Why are you here with it?” My voice is accusatory.

  Pushing me out of the way, he and Trey march in the house with the tree propped on both of their shoulders. They set it down in the corner of the living room and lean it against the wall.

  “Why are you bringing that into my condo? Get it out.” I back away.

  “It’s not going to bite.” This comes from Trey.

  I scowl at him, and his eyes shine.

  “You said you weren’t going to get a tree, so we got one for you.” Connor’s smile is so big that I swear, I can see his molars.

  I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot. Both Connor’s and Trey’s grins falter.

  Trey gives me an apologetic look, points at Connor, and mouths, It was his idea.

  No kidding.

  “I don’t want your pity tree.”

  Connor’s shoulders slump. “Come on, Journal Girl. You have to have a Christmas tree.”

  “I don’t have to have anything,” I shoot back like a toddler.

  “What the hell is going on out here?” Cami emerges from the hallway, rubbing her eyes.

  Her hair looks like a rat’s nest. She’s pale, she has dark circles under her eyes, and she’s still wearing last night’s clothes. It would be the worst walk of shame ever if she hadn’t fallen asleep in her bed, alone.

  “Wow, CC. Rough night?” I try to hide my smirk.

  She gives me a double middle-finger salute.

  “Aw, I love you, too.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders and lead her to the couch.

  “Why are you guys here?” Cami leans her head back against the couch and closes her eyes.

  “They brought us a pity tree,” I grumble.

  She squints one eye open. “A pity tree?”

  I gesture toward the affronting sapling already making itself at home in the corner.

  “You got us a Christmas tree?” Her voice is pitched just right to sound like a delighted child.

  Traitor!

  “She likes it.” Connor points at Cami, and his lips curl at the edges.

  I cover my face with my hands and exhale. “I need coffee to deal with this.”

  Spinning on my heel, I march into the kitchen and fire up the Keurig.

  When two mugs are ready, I brace myself to enter the battlefield that is now my living room. I sit next to Cami and hand her a steaming cup.

  She kisses me on the cheek. “Noles, I’m loving you like a two-dollar whore right now.”

  I scoff. “Two dollars? Bitch, please. You couldn’t afford me.”

  We laugh, but she stops abruptly.

  “I hate alcohol.” She rubs her temple with her free hand.

  I notice the condo’s quiet and empty. Except the stupid tree is still intruding on what used to be my happy space.

  “Where’d the boys go?”

  Cami shrugs with her lids closed.

  There’s a brisk knock at the door before it opens. Connor and Trey breeze in, carrying an array of shopping bags.

  Without knowing what’s in the bags, I know what’s in the bags.

  “Get out.” I point to the door.

  Connor kisses the air in my direction before he drops the goods on the floor and grabs the tree stand from Trey.

  For the next fifteen minutes, Cami and I watch the guys struggle to put up the tree. When they’re finally done, they stand back and proudly nod at their macho handiwork.

  “Okay, I’ve gotta jet.” Trey claps Connor on the shoulder.

  “Thanks, man. Enjoy family day,” Connor teases.

  Trey punches him in the arm.

  “Bye, beautifuls. Enjoy your tree.” Trey salutes Cami and me and leaves.

  Connor and I stare at each other while Cami rests her head on my shoulder. His lips slowly quirk into a smirk, and I remain stoic.

  He points over his shoulder and lifts a brow, silently questioning if I want to help him decorate.

  “Not on your life. You’re lucky I’m not throwing darts at you and setting the tree ablaze.”

  I remove Cami’s cup from her hand when it starts to tip sideways. She’s breathing shallowly, her body completely relaxed in sleep.

  “Can I have some of that?” He indicates my coffee.

  “Only if you refill mine and promise not to poison me.” I raise my mug.

  “Deal.”

  I scowl at the tree and listen to Connor move around my kitchen.

  During the last two years, my life became lonely, and now, I have my best friend as a roommate and two wonderful new friends she brought into my once-secluded home. It makes me feel slightly normal again, similar to what my life used to resemble—busy, noisy, filled with banter and laughter, and full.

  I stretch, roll over, and open my eyes to notice I’m on the couch. My mind searches for the last thing I remember, and I recall Cami slouching against me, and Connor was here.

  My eyes flash over to the corner of the living room, and there stands the stupid tree he brought over. But, instead of looking like the daft bush it did when I passed out, it’s lit in multicolor lights, and there’s a hodgepodge of ornaments hanging from its branches.

  Connor must have decorated it after I fell asleep.

  My heart expands, and an emotion that’s familiar but unidentifiable starts to wind its way around my chest.

  I sit up and brush off the blanket that’s covering me. When I glance around the room, my stomach twists when I realize I’m alone, and I wonder where Cami and Connor disappeared.

  I shake off the thought as I watch the tree twinkle. It really is beautiful even though I would never admit it to anyone, especially Connor.

  As I admire the peaceful atmosphere it creates, I recall something Connor said to me last night.

  “I’m also going to make you fall in love with Christmas again.”

  I guess this is his way of backing up that statement. The gesture is enduring, but it doesn’t matter what decorations Connor brings into this house. They won’t change the fact that my parents aren’t here, and my family is nonexistent.

  Without family, what’s the point of Christmas? They were the holiday to me. Now that they’re gone, it’s just a day filled with wonderful memories that haunt me.

  Shuffling coming from down the hallway rips me from my daydreaming.

  Cami rounds the corner. “He
y.”

  She looks a little sprightlier than she did earlier.

  “Feeling better?” I stretch before I stand and head into the kitchen to scrounge for some food.

  “Mmhmm,” Cami slinks into a kitchen chair and rests her head on her hand.

  “Want something to eat?” I open the fridge and notice we have absolutely nothing.

  “Ugh.” She pinches her face and rubs her stomach.

  I slam the fridge door closed and point at it. “That’s useless. When’s the last time we went grocery shopping?”

  “What’s grocery shopping?” Cami smirks.

  “Exactly.” Grabbing my phone from the coffee table, I hold it up in the air. “Pizza?”

  Cami nods.

  Someone knocks as I listen to the line ring.

  “Fat Billy’s. How can I help you?” a girl asks.

  I swing the door open as I say, “Hi. I’d like to place a delivery order, please.”

  The visitor standing on the other side of the archway raises a brow along with two large Fat Billy’s pizzas in his hand.

  “Connor,” I say.

  “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” the girl on the phone asks.

  “Hungry?” Connor smirks.

  “Starving.” I hang up on the person and grab the pies from Connor’s hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see you.”

  “I’m always happy to see you.” Connor walks in and strips his coat, throwing it on a small coat tree by the door. “Hey, Cam. Feeling better?”

  Cami lights up when she sees me carrying the pizzas to the table. “I’ll feel much better once I get several pieces of that in my face.”

  When I set the food on the table, she grabs a slice and shoves half of the piece into her mouth.

  “Attractive.” I grin.

  “What can I say? I love Fat Billy’s,” Cami says with a full mouth.

  “I only serve the best.” Connor sits at the table.

  “It’s my favorite.” I pull out paper plates and napkins and grab two slices. “When I was a kid, my parents always ordered Billy’s. I had a huge crush on the delivery guy. He was hot.”

  “Hell yeah, he was. What was his name? Jason? Jack?” Cami takes another giant bite.

  “Jace.” I sigh. “I had some pretty vivid fantasies about him. A girl never forgets her first crush.”

  “Mmm,” Cami agrees and swallows. “His friend wasn’t so bad either. I can’t remember his name though.”