The Candy Cane Kiss: Briarwood High Series

by Dallen, Maggie

  She laughed at my not-so-subtle call for compliments. “And you look…better.”

  I arched one brow in a cocky look of disbelief that I knew would make her laugh again. “Better? That’s all I get?”

  She eyed me from head to toe and I swore I could feel it. My body grew hot and tight under her watchful gaze as I waited impatiently for her to speak. I’d realized after she left the hospital the other day that I always felt this anticipation around her. Like I couldn’t wait to hear what she’d say next or see what she’d do.

  It took her walking away from me for me to realize it because when she left I’d felt the eager tension in me deflate until I’d felt absurdly…disappointed. Almost like I’d been sad to see her go.

  But then again, she had left me alone in a hospital room. I would have been sad to see anyone go.

  She was clearly remembering the same thing because she pursed her lips as she studied me. “You definitely look better in a suit than in a hospital gown.”

  I pretended to be offended. “I’ve been told I rocked that gown.”

  “Who told you that?” she teased.

  I stared at her in stone-faced silence until she burst out laughing again, at which point I couldn’t have stopped my answering grin if you’d paid me.

  Her laugh was ridiculously infectious.

  I sighed as if seriously irritated. “We need to fake break up soon before you totally kill my ego.”

  “I highly doubt that’s possible.” She rolled her eyes but she was laughing under her breath. “Just get in so we can get this over with. The sooner we fool everyone, the sooner we can end this.”

  I gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Luckily my injured shoulder and sling didn’t keep me from driving, but it still required more attention than usual because I had to limit my movements. Every move I made these days seemed to require extra focus or I’d tweak my shoulder and feel a stab of pain.

  We didn’t talk much on the way to my house, and really, there wasn’t much to talk about. We’d gotten our stories straight back at the hospital, keeping as close to the truth as possible.

  We met while she was volunteering. My doctor’s office was in the hospital and I’d been spending tons of time there over the past few weeks so we could totally have met before my surgery. We’d only recently started dating, and we were taking it slowly.

  They didn’t need to know that it was a terminal relationship, with a death sentence in store. All they had to know was that I’d happily moved on from Eleanor.

  When we got to my house, the guests were just starting to arrive, which was good because it kept my mom, dad, and brother from asking too many questions. They smiled politely, shook Lola’s hand, and then proceeded to focus on the newly arrived guests.

  She and I huddled in a corner, eating canapés and making fun of my mom’s boring bridge friends who were decked out in so much makeup, Lola was trying to convince me they were men in drag.

  “Your parents seem nice,” Lola said. She’d turned her attention to my parents who were smiling and laughing at something one of the guests said. I gave a half shrug in response, all I was capable of thanks to the sling that Lola insisted made me look dangerous rather than crippled.

  I wasn’t sure at what point Lola had started giving me compliments, but it had been cute to watch her blush afterward.

  Anyway, now she’d turned her focus on my parents and I followed her gaze. “They’re nice enough, I guess.” I mean, what else was there to say about parents?

  “I didn’t see them at the hospital,” she said.

  “They were out of town with my brother.” I didn’t mention that they’d opted to go skiing during my hospital stay because I realized that it probably sounded bad. Besides, it was just shoulder surgery and it wasn’t like I was a kid who needed mommy and daddy to hold his hand.

  She started to ask another question but didn’t get past “What—” before she stopped speaking. I looked to her and followed her gaze to the doorway.

  Eleanor. And Ryan. Her parents followed behind them.

  I felt Lola tense beside me and I slipped my good arm around her waist. “It’s all good, Lola. Just relax.”

  Oddly enough, I meant that. I wasn’t exactly excited to see Eleanor walk in with another guy. She looked pretty in a simple black dress. But then, Eleanor always looked pretty. Ryan looked like a giant dork beside her and he had her hand in his like he’d never let go.

  Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as I’d always thought.

  But, while it wasn’t fun to see them together, it wasn’t as awful as I’d expected either. Maybe because I had Lola at my side so I didn’t look like the pathetic, rejected loser of an ex.

  I watched Eleanor greet my parents. I wasn’t entirely certain my parents ever knew we were together, let alone that we’d broken up. No one would call my parents “involved.” That just wasn’t their way.

  They loved us, but they had lives of their own and those took precedence. It was what it was. Not a big deal.

  “Are you okay?” Lola leaned into me and kept her voice hushed.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” And I was.

  I was absurdly fine. I even managed a smile for Eleanor as she approached hesitantly, Ryan in tow. I guess I still felt a little guilt over the way I’d talked to her back at the hospital.

  I ignored the dope who towered over her.

  “El,” I said when she drew near. “You look beautiful as always.”

  She flushed and looked to Lola, as if nervous about me complimenting her in front of my new girl.

  But Lola was beaming at them both. If this was fake, she was the best actress on the planet. “You do look beautiful, Eleanor,” she gushed. Then she stuck out a hand toward Ryan. “Hi, I’m Lola. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  Ryan blinked and studied Lola a little too closely for my liking. What, lusting after one of my girlfriends wasn’t enough for this guy?

  I didn’t realize I’d tightened my grip until Lola glanced up at me, a question in her eyes. Not just a question. She looked concerned.

  For me.

  Oh hell. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had worried about me. I wasn’t sure what to make of the way that look made my chest tighten like my sling had been put on too tight. I forced a small smile to reassure her, and then had a moment of complete and utter shock.

  What was going on here? Lola didn’t even like me, so why was she being nice?

  Crap. Was I that pathetic?

  Ryan was still watching Lola with more interest than I liked. I found myself glaring at the idiotic basketball player until he looked away. Eleanor shifted uncomfortably at the tension that filled the silence and her gaze flickered between me and Lola.

  Lola jabbed her elbow into my ribs—a silent plea for mercy.

  I’d been holding her too tightly again, gripping Lola’s waist like my life depended on it. Like she was my favorite toy that I couldn’t bear to share.

  Eleanor still wouldn’t meet my eyes and I felt a surge of irritation. This tension wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the one who’d ended our relationship. I wasn’t the one who’d brought a leering jerk to this party.

  Lola mercifully broke the silence once more. “Where did you get that dress, Eleanor?”

  As if she cared. There was no way Lola would be caught dead wearing something so normal and modern and…heaven forbid, trendy.

  That should have annoyed me. I hated people who sneered at all things popular, as if being different made a person cool. I should have been annoyed with Lola, but I wasn’t. All of my irritation was directed at Eleanor and Ryan for being at the party. For interrupting the fun I’d been having hanging out with my fake girlfriend in our own little world.

  What. The. Hell?

  I found myself staring down at Lola as she chatted amiably with my ex and her new boyfriend. I stared at the brunette under my arm as though the top of her head might hold the answer.

  I held onto her like she wa
s my lifeline to sanity, and that’s exactly how it felt.

  For one crazy, bizarre moment, I was tossed around in a sea of confusion. Up was down and left was right.

  Eleanor was my friend and Lola was my girl, and for one crazy moment that seemed normal.

  Real.

  It felt right.

  A hand coming down hard on my good shoulder knocked me out of the moment and I found Trevor standing beside me, Blake moving to stand on Lola’s other side.

  Blake didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was assessing Lola from head to toe. She didn’t say hello, she just pursed her lips. “That dress is—”

  “Beautiful,” Eleanor cut in quickly. She gave Blake a meaningful look that was lost on no one. “Isn’t it, Blake?”

  For a second I forgot my irritation and I felt a surge of affection for my former girlfriend.

  Blake gave Eleanor a haughty stare before sighing dramatically. “I suppose.” She turned back to Lola, ignoring me entirely. “What happened to your other clothes? Did someone finally throw them in the garbage where they belong?”

  Eleanor hissed Blake’s name, and I growled a warning. Everyone reacted in some way, even Ryan, who didn’t know Lola and wasn’t even remotely my friend.

  The only person who didn’t stiffen in anger or embarrassment was Lola. She looked concerned. For Blake. “You do know you’re not supposed to throw clothes away, right?”

  Blake’s sneer faltered. “What?”

  Lola shrugged a bit beneath my arm, possibly because I was gripping her so tightly I was probably cutting off circulation. But she didn’t shrug me off entirely, and she carried on talking like this was an ordinary topic. “I know the kind of clothes you buy are probably cheap and seem disposable, but you really shouldn’t throw them away. Old clothes decompose and emit landfill gas and—”

  “Is she serious right now?” An irritated Blake addressed me and I found myself grinning in response.

  “I don’t know, let’s ask.” I turned Lola slightly and she looked up at me, mischief in her eyes making me want to laugh outright.

  “Sweetheart, are you serious right now?”

  Lola widened her eyes. “I am totally serious.” She turned to Blake. “Look, I know you were trying to insult me—and seriously, that was a great burn. I mean, really. You got me big time.”

  Her voice dripped with sarcasm that had everyone but Blake snickering.

  Lola adopted the innocent routine again, “But I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that you’re hurting the environment if you’re throwing out your…” She eyed Blake. “What is that, a GAP dress?”

  Blake stiffened. “It’s Prada.”

  Lola shrugged as if it was all the same to her.

  It likely was.

  Blake recovered quickly. “So what, you wear those old lady clothes because you’re into the environment?”

  Lola laughed. “No, I wear them because I like them. They’re comfortable and they make me feel good.”

  Blake stared at her. No one seemed to know what to say to that. Lola had just said something non-ironic, and not even a little bit sarcastic.

  Poor Blake looked lost in this moment of sincerity.

  Eleanor took pity on her friend. “Well, I think your dresses are pretty,” she said to Lola. “And Blake does too, she just doesn’t want to admit it because she could never pull off that look.”

  Blake rolled her eyes but she accepted the olive branch that Eleanor had thrust out on her behalf. “I would never wear those clothes, but at least you have some style, that’s more than I can say about most girls at Briarwood.”

  I said she took the olive branch, I never said she was gracious about it.

  There was an awkward pause after Blake’s quasi-compliment, which managed to insult every other person from Briarwood.

  Lola filled the awkward silence with a vengeance.

  “Well, my clothes might look odd at school, but they’re perfect for our big dance weekend we’ve got coming up.” She looked up at me with an evil grin. “Right, honey?”

  I wanted to kiss her. Instead I found myself grinning down at her, trying not to laugh. She was calling my bluff.

  “Dance weekend?” Eleanor asked.

  “Dude, you’re dancing now?” Trevor said.

  Ryan laughed awkwardly.

  I finally pulled my gaze away from those mesmerizing eyes to meet the curious looks from my friends.

  I shrugged. “What can I say? My girl loves to swing dance and I can’t let her dance with anyone but me, now can I?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please, I’ve been dancing with other guys for years. I’ve won competitions without your help, thank you very much.”

  I pretended to be hurt, but then I pulled her tightly against me. “I know, babe, but I don’t like the idea of any other guy holding you in his arms.”

  I’d said it softly, like it was just for her ears, though everyone else could definitely hear. It was genius, really. I’d managed to make my participating in a dance competition seem sexy, while making Eleanor and Blake go weak-kneed with envy, and making Trevor and Ryan jealous that I got to have this girl in my arms.

  Lola looked up at me, and I forgot about all that. I forgot that I was trying to make Eleanor jealous. I forgot to even look and see Eleanor’s reaction.

  All that mattered was Lola’s eyes. The way she was looking at me, part tolerant amusement at my inflated ego, and part affection that made me warm all over.

  It was the look a real girlfriend would give.

  It was the look Lola would give if she were really my girlfriend.

  I freakin’ loved that look.

  “Maybe we should all go.” Trevor’s asinine suggestion shattered the moment and I swung my gaze to his, well aware that everyone else in the group was doing the same.

  “W-what?” Lola stammered beside me.

  She was finally thrown off her game and it wasn’t by an insult but by a friendly suggestion.

  Interesting.

  “Why not?” I said as the girls in the group leapt on board. They loved any plan that involved dressing up and dancing.

  Lola was blinking up at me, her eyes wide, her gaze startled. I found myself grinning down at her as I resisted the urge to gloat.

  Okay, no I didn’t. I gave in to the urge to gloat after a fruitless struggle. I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Told you I could make anything cool.” I squeezed her waist playfully. “Even you.”

  For a second I worried that maybe I’d offended her, but of course I hadn’t. She gave me that nonplussed expression, the one that said “very funny, but I am not amused.”

  Our little band of friends-slash-frenemies-slash-exes broke up after that, the other two couples going off to join their families, leaving me and Lola to mingle on our own. Unlike most Christmas parties, ours consisted of very little extended family. It was more of a networking event than a true holiday party.

  “Where’s the eggnog?” Lola asked at one point, after she’d finished charming an elderly doctor friend of my dad’s. She looked around as if searching for something. “Where’s the mistletoe and the holly and the…” She spun around in a circle. “Where’s the Christmas tree?”

  I laughed, though it came out sounding more bitter than merry. “Too fattening,” I said ticking them off in the order she’d listed them. “Too crass, too tacky…”

  She looked so horrified by my answers that I took pity. “But we do have a Christmas tree.”

  She blinked. “Where?”

  I motioned for her to follow me and led the way down the long first-floor hallway to the library.

  “You guys have a library?” she said, her voice breathless and wistful. She gasped when we entered the room, where a giant white-light bedecked Christmas tree stood front and center.

  I tried to see this all through her eyes, and failed. I mean, this was my home. My mom had always ordered the tree delivery guys to put the tree in here, where it could be seen through the floor-t
o-ceiling windows that faced the street.

  I kept my eyes on the tree, on the room, in general, with its book-lined walls. But I was acutely conscious of her eyes on me. For the first time in quite possibly forever I felt…nervous.

  No, maybe not nervous, just…oh hell, I didn’t know.

  All night I’d been getting the weird feeling like she was seeing more than I wanted her to see whenever she looked in my direction. But I wasn’t entirely sure that was a bad thing either.

  I felt it as soon as her eyes dropped from my face and she turned her attention to the room and the tree.

  This left me free to study her.

  She looked ethereal in the glow of the Christmas lights, with that soft, velvety dress and the long, dark hair. Timeless. The word kept coming back to me.

  She snagged a candy cane from a bowl filled with them—for decorative purposes, I’d imagine, since my mother didn’t approve of candy in the house. But that didn’t stop Lola from snagging one and sucking on it.

  I don’t think she was trying to be seductive, and honestly maybe I was the weirdo in the room for finding this scene so sexy. We were in a library. In front of a Christmas tree. She was wearing a dress better suited for a cotillion than a sexy fantasy.

  But I was drawn to her. I found myself drifting toward her, unable to stay away. “You know no one actually eats those, right?”

  She frowned down at the candy cane, her mouth pursed in confusion. “But they’re good. They’re candy.”

  I laughed softly as I reached her side. She was at once childlike and very, very grown up standing there in that dress, with that hair, and those lips, and holding that candy. Who was I to argue? All I knew was that I wanted to taste her again.

  I wanted to taste those lips, I wanted to feel her in my arms.

  I watched her lips part as I moved in closer. Her eyes widened slightly and she glanced toward the doorway briefly, like she was thinking about escaping—but she didn’t back away.

  When my mouth closed over hers, she moaned. The sound was soft, just like the feel of her lips. Everything about her was soft. Her curves that pressed against my chest, the material of her dress under my hand as I stroked her back, the way her mouth opened at my gentle insistence, allowing me in.