North of Light

by J. M. Paul

  “Me either.” I walk to the couch and plop down.

  “I wonder whatever happened to those two.” Cami stands.

  “I hear Jace is happily married to a girl he grew up with and has—”

  “Ahem.” Connor clears his throat. “I love this trip down memory lane, but …”

  “Aw, is your masculinity feeling threatened?” I flash a smile before I bite into my pizza. My eyes roll back in my head, and I’m pretty confident I release a muffled moan.

  Cami pats Connor on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Con; you fed us, so today, you’re hottie number one in our eyes.”

  The two of them enter the living room with their full plates. Connor takes the other couch while Cami sits next to me. It’s strange because Cami’s usually all over Connor when he’s here.

  “Where’s Trey?” I ask.

  “Working,” Connor says after he swallows.

  “Why aren’t you working? It’s Saturday night.” I arch a brow.

  “Because I’m the boss.” His eyes sparkle.

  “Well, la-tee-da.” I swing my head with the statement.

  “Yeah, what’s up with that? You never told me you owned Harry’s.” Cami tosses her empty plate onto the coffee table.

  Connor shoves a large portion of pizza crust in his mouth, and the room is filled with his chewing and mine.

  “I’m part owner with my brother.” He shrugs like that’s answer enough.

  “How are you part owner of a successful business at such a young age?” I question.

  His gaze finds mine, and it doesn’t stray.

  “My dad got sick a few years back and was unable to run it, so my brother and I stepped in. After Dad recovered, he decided it was time to retire. He wanted to enjoy his second chance at life.” Connor shrugs. “Keaton and I did okay with the reins, so Dad approached us about taking it over permanently.”

  “So, did your dad just, like, give it to you and your brother?” Cami probes.

  “No, Keaton and I pooled our money together and legally bought it from him.” Connor scratches the stubble on his cheek and then runs his hand through his hair.

  My mouth hangs open. “How the hell could you afford an established restaurant?”

  Connor’s eyes flash to mine, and then he stares over my shoulder. He clears his throat, rubs the side of his head, and then tugs at his dark strands.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.” I stand to clear our discarded dishes.

  “No, no, it’s okay. It’s just not something I … talk about.” He worries his lip, and it’s so damn enticing that I can’t pull my attention away.

  “My grandparents died a while back, and they left each of us kids a trust fund.” Connor picks at the edge of his paper plate. “So, Keaton and I bought the restaurant, which allowed my dad to retire.”

  “Coolio.” Cami jumps from the couch and tosses an, “I’ve gotta pee,” over her shoulder, jogging down the hallway.

  I hear the bathroom door close. Turning toward Connor, I find him gazing at the Christmas tree.

  “Did you want to go into the restaurant business?” I ask quietly.

  “I don’t know. It’s what I grew up around.” He sighs and lounges back against the cushions. “It interests me, but I’m not sure it’s what I would’ve chosen. But the truth is, I had no idea what I wanted to do with myself, so”—he shrugs—“why not?”

  “Why not?” I repeat and gawk. “Why not chase something you’re passionate about, something that sets fire to your soul and makes you want to do better, be better?”

  He scoots forward in his seat, placing his elbows on his knees. The look he gives me has me gulping in air.

  “What I do for a living satisfies me and puts food on my table. It also allows my dad to live his best life with the time he has left. That makes me happy, but it’s not what I’m passionate about.” He stands and closes the distance between us.

  My eyes flit to the hallway and then back to Connor.

  “There was a time I was certain about what would bring me pleasure, but now, I’m questioning everything.” He tips my chin up, so he can read my expression. “You make me question everything.”

  His thumb trails across my bottom lip, and without thought, my tongue reaches out to taste. Pizza and peppermint assault my senses, and I hum my pleasure.

  “Noel,” Connor growls and leans closer.

  “I know we’re young, hip, and cool,” Cami calls from down the hallway.

  Connor and I break apart, both of our breathing heavy and hot.

  “But what are your thoughts about staying in tonight and playing some games?” Cami rounds the corner and stops mid-step, her attention focused on us.

  Connor gathers our plates to throw them away. “That sounds good to me,” he says as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

  “Noles?”

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Yeah. I could use a chill night.”

  “Then, it’s settled.” Cami smiles and dumps an armload of board games on the kitchen table.

  “Um, I thought, when you said games, you meant video games.” Connor stops and assesses Cami’s pile of fun.

  “I meant both. But are you sure about this?” Cami eyes me and then looks at Connor. “Noles can be a bit … intense. And she cheats.”

  “I do not cheat! You just blow donkey balls at games.” I huff.

  “Told ya,” Cami says under her breath.

  Connor’s eyes smile at me more than his lips. He rubs his hands together. “Bring it on, Journal Girl.”

  Thirty minutes later, and the three of us are knees deep in a heated game of Mario Kart.

  “Stop shooting your banana shitters at me!” I snarl at Connor as I hit a peel and spin into a wall, losing the lead.

  “Keep crying”—he dramatically sniffles—“and the next time, I’ll use my heat-seeking red Koopa shell.”

  “Only people without aiming talent use those.” I gain control of my kart and start to hunt Connor’s Donkey Kong–driving ass.

  Before I know it, a red shell takes out my Yoshi kart, and Princess Peach zooms past me.

  “What the hell?” I yell.

  “Move, Yoshi, get outs of ma way,” Cami sings and bounces on the ground next to me.

  “Those aren’t the right words,” I grumble and scowl.

  All three of us are sitting on the floor in front of my oversize television. We started on the couch, but the games steadily increased in seriousness, so we moved into a serious seating arrangement.

  “Screw you guys.” I toss my controller onto the floor when Connor crosses the finish line in first place with Cami hot on his tail in second.

  Connor stands and does what must be some kind of guy-winning ritual dance.

  “Sit down. You look like a complete idiot.” I glower at him.

  “Aw, is someone a poor loser?” His face is pinched into the stupidest expression.

  I eye Connor’s junk and wonder if I have good aim. I could chuck my controller at his goods and send him to the ground like a weeping baby.

  “What’s the matter? Can’t handle the heat of real competition?” He chuckles.

  I growl and narrow my eyes.

  “Oh, kitty’s got bite?” Connor’s eyes sparkle.

  “I’ll make you my Fancy Feast, jackass,” I hiss.

  Connor steps closer to me and pets my hair. “Aw, there, there, pussycat.”

  Cami gives us a silly grin, lifts her shoulders up to her ears, and says, “You two are my favorite people.”

  I bat Connor’s hand away before I push myself off the ground and head toward the kitchen. “I need popcorn.”

  “She has to go lick her competitive wounds,” Cami mutters.

  “I heard that!” I throw over my shoulder before I scrounge through the pantry. Finding what I want, I toss the bag into the microwave and listen to it explode in a flurry of popping. The sound momentarily satisfies my irritated temperament.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket,
and I pull it out.

  Connor: Need me to come and kiss your bruised ego? ;)

  Me: Kissing you would cause the slow, withering death of my soul.

  Connor: So, that’s a no then? :)

  Me: My advisers have come to a unanimous decision, and that’s a big, fat HELL NO.

  I hear Connor chuckle in the other room, causing me to grin.

  Connor: I’ll have to wear you down then. ;)

  Connor: Always have liked a challenge. :) ;) :)

  Me: I’m deeply disturbed by your excessive use of smiley faces.

  Connor: :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)~

  I puff out a laugh and pocket my phone when the microwave beeps.

  “Thank goodness. I’m starving.” Cami steals the bowl from my hands when I sit next to her and shoves a fistful of popcorn into her mouth.

  “Hey!” I grab it back.

  There’s a knock at the door. Cami and I eye each other.

  Connor stands from the couch to open the door.

  “Hey, bro,” Trey says.

  “Hey, man.” Connor slaps Trey on the shoulder. “How was work?”

  “Sucked, but my A-hole boss wasn’t there, so I skated on my side work and got out early.” Trey enters the condo. He has a paper bag in his arms that he sets on the table. “Hey, ladies. Lookin’ fine, as usual.” Trey waggles his eyebrows. “What’s on the agenda?”

  “After they’re done shoveling food into their faces again, I thought we could break out Cards Against Humanity,” Connor says.

  “Nuh-uh.” I bop Cami with my shoulder. “She’ll fall asleep before the first round is complete.”

  Cami gives us an innocent expression. “It’s true. That game bores me to death.”

  “More Mario Kart it is!” Connor gives me a wicked smirk.

  “Freaking A,” I complain.

  “How about we play teams?” Connor suggests. “I’ll be on yours, Journal Girl, so you can finally know how it feels to win.”

  “Oh … burn!” Cami laughs.

  “They’re a bunch of assholes, Trey. Did you come to save me from them?” I bat my puppy-dog eyes.

  “Yes.” Trey digs into the paper bag he brought. “With alcohol.” He holds up a bottle of vodka, and Cami and I groan.

  After a sea of video games and a drink, I ask, “What time is it?”

  “A little after two.” Trey yawns.

  “Shit.” Connor jumps to his feet. “I need to get to bed. Tomorrow’s the Vanstone Cookie Workshop. Mom will kill me if I’m dragging.”

  “Cookie what?” Cami questions.

  “That’s tomorrow? Dude, why didn’t you tell me?” Trey stands as well.

  “I did. Did you think you just got a random Sunday off?” Connor quirks a brow.

  “Should’ve known something was up.” Trey punches Connor’s shoulder.

  The guys start pulling their coats on.

  “Um, I don’t think either one of you should drive.” I push up from the couch. “You’ve been drinking.”

  “I’m gonna call an Uber.” Trey pulls his phone from his pocket.

  “Me, too.” Connor’s already pressing buttons on his cell.

  “Shit. None are in the area.” Trey stares at his screen.

  “Sometimes, I hate living in the burbs,” Connor grumbles.

  Cami stands, stretches, and yawns. “Stay here.”

  Connor and Trey glance up from their phones to meet my gaze. They suddenly look dead on their feet.

  “Noles?” Cami asks.

  “Uh, sure. Let me go grab some pillows and blankets.” I head toward the end of the hallway.

  My hands are full of blankets, and when I reach for a pillow, someone says, “Let me help,” right next to me, making me jump.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Connor’s arms brush against my shoulders and surround me as he reaches around to take the linens. I gulp and fight the urge to lean back against him.

  “Need my help?” Cami’s behind us.

  “Nope. I think we’re all set.” Connor backs away and turns slightly. “You ladies hit the hay. Trey and I can manage from here.”

  “Sweet. Night, guys.” Cami gives a slight wave and disappears into her room.

  “You sure you don’t need anything else?” I turn toward Connor.

  “I’m good.” He lingers in the hallway with me.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  Connor starts to turn.

  “Connor?”

  “Yeah?” He faces me again.

  “Thanks for the pity tree.”

  Dimples dent his cheeks.

  “It was my pleasure.” He strokes the thumb of his free hand along my jaw. “And it’s not pity. It’s part of my scheme to get you to love Christmas again.” He brushes back hair from my shoulder. “Is it working yet?”

  My body’s tingling with the warmth of his nearness, the tenderness of his touch.

  “Possibly,” I murmur.

  Connor’s eyes go soft, and he angles closer into me.

  “G’night, Connor.” I back away and turn the knob of my door.

  “Night, Journal Girl,” he says reverently.

  Gift of Life

  I shut off the water and let the droplets run down my body. Nothing feels better than a hot shower on a cold, snowy morning.

  That’s not true. I can think of something else that could keep me warm and fulfill my cardio workout for the day.

  I shake the thought out of my head and reach for my towel. Those types of notions can’t run through my head when Connor’s sleeping down the hall … if he’s still here. He said he had to get up early.

  I dry off, pat my hair to absorb most of the moisture, and wrap the material around me. Reaching for my leave-in conditioner, my hand comes back empty.

  “What the heck?”

  I rummage through the cabinet, searching, before I remember Cami borrowed it for her date.

  “Crap.”

  I can’t brush my thick hair without it.

  Quietly, I crack my bedroom door open and peer down the hallway. There’s no movement or sound. Cami must still be sleeping, and the boys are either passed out or they left.

  I tiptoe into Cami’s room, and she’s lightly snoring in her bed, wrapped like a burrito in her blankets. I grab the bottle of product and soundlessly make my way out.

  I’m almost to my room when the guest bathroom door clicks open. Turning, I see a bare-chested Connor halted in the doorway, staring at me.

  The hallway’s night-light casts a dim glow, but I can see his eyes travel down my body, which is only wrapped in a towel, just as mine hit his chest and get stuck there.

  Holy hell.

  Connor’s ripped in a not over the top sort of way, but in the just right kind of way. Firm pecs and his chest are splattered with enough hair to indicate he’s all man, and his six-pack abs look like I could springboard off of them into never-never land—if I don’t follow his treasure trail down to the pot of gold.

  I swallow the ball of want lodged in my throat and drag my attention up to Connor’s face.

  His eyes are firmly planted on me and trap me in their web as soon as I meet them. Everything goes still and quiet around me, but my body is anything but calm. It feels like my skin and insides are slowly burning into an inferno. Every part that makes me a woman is tingling and begging and needy. All from one smoldering look from someone I want desperately but can’t have.

  All words escape me, and I clutch the towel tighter to my chest.

  “Cat got your tongue, Journal Girl?” The crook of his lip twitches as he saunters toward me.

  Connor leans down and takes an audible deep inhale of my wet hair and groans out the exhale. I feel the rumble from it shoot like a ping-pong ball throughout my system, pausing in places I long ago forgot about until Connor entered my orbit.

  “The things you do to me, Noel.” It comes out as a growl, and he presses closer, his heated chest bur
ning into my side. “Am I allowed to kiss you yet?”

  “N-no.”

  “That doesn’t sound convincing.” Connor lifts a few strands of my hair and lets them slink through his fingers. “Am I at least wearing you down?”

  A false denial is stuck in my throat, and Connor knows it. He chuckles darkly and leans down, so his lips aren’t touching mine but are hovering close enough that I can feel his breath and his warmth.

  “Don’t lie to me. Do you want this?” His jade eyes catch me in their fiery gaze.

  “Yes.”

  “But not now?”

  “No.”

  He straightens and steps back.

  “Then, go put on some clothes because, if you stand there, wet and half-naked, much longer, I’m going to give us both what we want and not regret it.” He arches his perfectly shaped, sexy brow.

  How can a brow be sexy?

  Maybe I need to take another shower and make it a longer one this time.

  My eyes flit down to his sculpted chest again, and my blood all but boils with want.

  “Go, Noel.” It’s grumbled so deeply that I know I’m pressing my luck.

  I fumble with the handle, but eventually, the door releases, and I step inside, closing it tightly behind me. Leaning back against the surface, I listen for Connor. There’s no sound for a long time until, finally, he backs away, mumbling to himself.

  After I’ve changed, brushed my hair and teeth, and put the bare minimal of makeup on, I creep out to the kitchen in search of coffee.

  My cautious travel is unwarranted, as I find Connor and Trey sitting at the table, eating leftover pizza and drinking my drug.

  “Mornin’, Lunar.” Trey lifts his mug in greeting.

  “Morning,” I mutter.

  I feel Connor’s eyes on me, but I avoid contact. Not enough time has passed for me to completely pull myself together since our encounter. That interaction is still firmly planted in my core, playing havoc on my lady bits.

  “I made you coffee. It’s on the counter,” Connor says.

  Deep down, I want to hate Connor. Maybe, if I shove anger at him, it will kill the attraction, but when someone that gorgeous feeds me my caffeine addiction, it’s like handing me love glasses. I can’t see anything but hearts and flowers. So, I keep dodging his stare.