Fuck, just remembering that makes me hard for her. Even then I loved her and couldn’t deny her as long as I wasn’t taking anything. I’ve got to get her to hear me out. I know what she thinks and I was stupid for telling her the way I did. But the truth is that I’ve loved her since she was seven years old, even when I hated her. I’ve wanted her my whole life, and I refuse to lose her now that we’re so close.
I will make her talk to me. If not tomorrow, then Christmas Day. She’ll have to talk to me. She’s coming over here for Christmas and has every year she was home. This isn’t over. This is just beginning.
Fifteen
Felicity
Christmas Eve goes by in a flash of baking, wine drinking, and Christmas movies with Mom. Me and my mom have always been close, but now that I’m an adult, we’re a whole different level of close. She talks to me like I’m her adult friend instead of her daughter. We talk about anything and everything, such as the guys I dated in college and the guys she’s been seeing. She asks about Carson but I blow that off, not ready to address it yet. I know I’ll have to face him tomorrow, but that’s tomorrow’s problem, not today’s. Today, I just want to relax and enjoy the holiday with my mom.
We’re in and out of the kitchen all day making cookies, cakes, and pies. She teaches me her famous potato salad before packing it up in the fridge for tomorrow and we spend way too many hours peeling eggs to make deviled eggs. Everything gets sealed tight and put away for tomorrow. The rest of the night, we spend cleaning up the kitchen, eating leftover pizza for dinner, and drinking wine and laughing in front of the TV, watching all our favorites.
We call it a night around ten and I walk to my bedroom alone. I enter my room and see that my curtains are open. Mom must have opened them when she was vacuuming earlier. I look out the window and into his. It’s dark and empty and I take this as a good sign as I walk across the room to pull them closed. Just as I reach for them, his light comes on and he enters the room. His eyes automatically find mine. We share a long moment together and just as he takes a step closer, I pull them shut. Tears sting my eyes as I go to lie down on my bed.
What am I doing? I love that man. I know I do. Why can’t he just love me for who I really am and not some easy girl I played to be with him. Looking back, I guess I was always easy for him. I’ve always wanted him and was never afraid of letting him know it, not when I got older anyway. But I never went to the lengths to get anyone as I went to for him. He’s always attracted the easy girls, the girls looking for a good time. The ones who would show up to a party barely dressed with their boobs hanging out. He’d find the easiest one and take her to some bedroom where he’d spend several hours buried deep inside her. Does he think I’m like the rest of them? Or that I’m this way with every guy? Why would he tell me that way? Why didn’t he love me years ago?
With my crying, sleep finds me easily. I drift in and out all night, each time only going back to dream of him some more.
“Why doesn’t he notice me?” I ask my friend, Lauren, as I lean against the wall at a party. I’m only a freshman so he takes me to every party, but he always leaves me with a friend while he goes off and has a good time with whatever girl he finds. Why can’t I be the girl he finds?
“He does notice you, Felicity. It’s just that he doesn’t see you that way. To him, you’re his little sister and you just need to move on. Like with him,” she says, pointing at some random guy.
I turn and look at who she’s pointing at. Hey, that’s not a bad idea. He’s over there with a blonde on his lap. He’s making me jealous. Maybe I can do the same.
I walk over and talk to the guy she pointed out for me. I find out his name is Steven and he just got chosen to be on the football team. Even better. Carson is on the football team, which would make him really jealous. We talk and hang out. He drinks but I don’t. I know if Carson caught me drinking, he’d drag me out of here and give me a longer lecture than even my mom would. The more I get to know, the more I get to like. Maybe Lauren was right. Maybe I just needed a distraction and Steven seems like the perfect distraction.
He’s holding my hand and running his finger along my cheek when I blush. He’s getting closer and closer and the next thing I know, I’m sitting on his lap and he’s kissing me. Like, really kissing me. He’s holding my face and keeping me in place. I feel my body start to come alive but that must be like a beacon that calls to Carson because he comes over and grabs me up by my arm.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, seemingly repulsed by my actions.
I frown. “What? It’s no different than what you’re doing over there.” I point to the girl who’s now sitting on the couch instead of his lap, pouting.
His eyes flash from me, to her, and back. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Ha! Finally.
“Let’s go,” he demands, pulling me toward the door.
“Wait? What?”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t be over there doing that in front of you. I’m sorry. Now I’m going to take you home.” The girl walks up to him and he tells her he’ll be back.
Now I’m mad. It was one thing when he was going home with me, but now he’s taking me home and coming back to finish what he started where I can’t see? No way. This is not happening.
He drags me out of the house party and to his car. He puts me in the passenger side seat and climbs behind the wheel. No worries about him drinking. He never does when I’m with him. He’s too afraid to set a bad example.
“What’s your problem, Carson?”
He looks at me. “I don’t have a problem, Felicity,” he spits out my name.
“You clearly do, Carson,” I spit out his name in the same disgust.
He lets out a long breath and shakes his head. “You really expect me to be okay with watching you sit on some loser’s lap and make out with him?”
I roll my eyes. “You really expect me to be okay watching you make out with some skank sitting on your lap?”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Yeah, and now I’m in trouble and you’re not. I’m going home and you’re going back to the party.”
I see him grind his teeth.” Would it make you feel better if I didn’t go back?”
“Yes. Yes, it would,” I tell him.
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Okay, then. What do you want to do?”
“Huh? Really?”
He nods me on. “What do you want to do?”
I smile to myself. “Ummm, I want to sneak a bottle away from your mom’s boyfriend and go swimming in the creek.”
“Fine,” he agrees, and I’m happy once again.
I wake up Christmas morning and I’m in no hurry to get this day started. I miss him like crazy. It’s like he’s embedded himself into my bones and when I’m away from him for too long, my whole body feels his absence.
“Rise and shine, cupcake,” Mom says, popping her head into my room. “Breakfast is ready.”
I fling the blankets off me and sit up. Her famous Christmas pancakes are done. Every year she makes pancakes in the shape of little Santa heads. Hat and all. She even colors it with strawberry syrup for the red hat, whipped cream for his beard and the fuzzy ball on the end, and blueberries for eyes. It’s really not all that tasty, but I don’t dare tell her that. She’s been doing it since I was a little girl. It’s a Christmas tradition and I’m more for keeping the traditions than having a tasty breakfast.
We eat and clean up the mess, then take our coffee into the living room to exchange our own personal gifts. I give Mom her gifts first. She unwraps the first one and smiles at the mother and daughter wineglasses I found at one of the shops in town.
“I love this,” she says, setting it aside and picking up her second gift. She opens it to find the scrapbook I made. It’s filled with pictures of us from the time I was born up to just a few days ago. Each page I decoded with stickers, glitter, and bows. There are cute sayings that I wrote by the pictures. It’s
a gift that’s completely handmade and from the heart. As she flips through the pages, she wipes tears from her eyes.
“This is the best thing I’ve ever received.” She leans over and pulls me in for a hug.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, kid,” she says, pulling away and drying her eyes with her shirt sleeve. “Now, open mine.”
She hands me three. The first one is wrapped in red paper with a big green bow. I open it and find a personalized coffee cup. It’s the backs of two women. One is older with gray in her hair and the other is younger, dark hair with curls and highlights. Their arms are around one another and it says a cute little saying about how daughters turn into their mother’s best friend. My eyes tear but I will them away. “Aww, this is cute. Thank you.”
She nods me on, and I open the one wrapped in green paper with a big red bow. I find a first time on your own kit. It has tons of gift cards for restaurants and grocery stores. It has a little pocket that says gas money. Another that reads mad money and another that says because I know you’ll forget something. There are many more pockets in the kit, but I get the gist and laugh. “Thanks, I have a feeling this will come in handy very soon.”
“The last one is my favorite,” she says with a smile.
I open the last gift and find a picture frame. The frame holds four pictures and she’s already put pictures in them. The first one is a picture of Carson and I when we were kids. He’s frowning at the camera and I have my arms crossed over my chest, refusing to look at him. The picture makes me giggle. The picture next to it must have been taken the same day because we’re wearing the same clothes, but in this one, we’re hugging with big smiles on our faces.
Below those are two more. The first is a picture from the other night at dinner when we were fighting. His brows are pulled together and his jaw is flexed, like he’s angry or in deep thought. In this picture, I’m looking at him with a dirty look, my nose curled up and brows knitted together. I didn’t even know she had snapped this picture. I remember her looking at her phone, but I had no idea it was directed at us.
In the one next to that is a picture of us after dinner when I thought she had left. We’re sitting by the ice rink with the Christmas lights in the background. He’s looking at me with a smile and I’m smiling back.
I look up at her with tears in my eyes.
“The point is, honey, that you two will fight and argue a million times through this life, but you love one another and forgiveness always comes. You just have to be patient with one another, forgive one another, and love one another just like you’ve always done. Whatever you’re going through right now, you’ll overcome it, just like you did when you were kids.”
I smile at her. “Thanks, Mom.” I lean in and she hugs me, smoothing down my hair.
After we clean up the paper, we both go to get ready for our dinner at Carson’s. I take my gifts to my room and place the picture frame on the bedside table. I sit on my bed and look at it. She might be right, but the only problem is that our problems today are nothing like the problems we had as kids. It can’t be fixed with an I’m sorry and a sucker.
I know that I will have to forgive him at some point. He’s my best friend and I can’t imagine living without him in my life. The question is: when? When will I be able to forgive him and look past this? And when I do, what will happen then? Will we go back to being just friends who have too much passion or will we pick up where we left off a couple days ago? Or will it be too late for that? What if he moves on and finds someone else? Someone like Gillian. Or what if he already did?
I push the thoughts from my mind and go to get ready. I can’t put it off any longer and the longer I wait, the less time I’ll have to look presentable and I want to make him drool. I pull on the tightest pair of skinny jeans I have. They’re light in color and have rips and tears in all the right places. I pair the jeans with a red sweater and a pair of high-heeled boots. I curl my hair and leave it hanging down my back, then I fix my makeup, making my lips shine as much as possible. I know how much that gets his attention. I remember him once saying that he couldn’t stop staring at my lips because they were so shiny. It made him want to kiss me, but that was long before we had actually kissed.
“Ready, hun?” Mom asks, poking her head in my room.
“Yep, ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, pulling on my coat and grabbing the gifts as I give myself one last look in the mirror.
Sixteen
Carson
Someone knocks on the door and I get up from the couch and answer it. I pull the door open and Mrs. B is on the other side with Felicity right behind her. I pull her in for a hug. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” she replies, hugging me quickly before moving deeper into the room to greet my mom.
Felicity steps up to me and forces a smile. “Merry Christmas, Carson.”
I look her up and down; my body begs to touch hers, but I don’t. “Merry Christmas, Felicity.” I look around her. “Wow, it’s really coming down out there, huh?”
Her brows raise and she nods. “Yep, snow for Christmas. How original.” She passes me by and goes to greet my mom with a genuine smile.
Well, guess she’s still mad at me. I close the door and follow the women into the kitchen. “Mrs. B, did you make those cookies I like?” I ask, looking through the canisters she’s pulling out of her bag.
“I sure did.” She looks at Felicity. “Why don’t the two of you go put the gifts under the tree?”
Felicity turns her nose up at her mom for suggesting such a thing, but she hands one bag over to me and we walk into the living room together. We both kneel down at the tree and start unloading the gifts.
“Felicity,” I start, but she stops me.
“Carson, don’t.” She shakes her head.
“You know, sooner or later, you’re going to have to hear me out, right?”
“Nope,” she says, refusing to look at me.
“We’re best friends. Our parents live right next door to one another. You can’t avoid me forever.”
“Fine, let’s go to your room,” she says, tossing the empty bag aside and standing up.
I stand up and follow her back now that the adults are busy in the kitchen.
I close the door and walk toward her. “Look…”
“No, you look. What you said to me wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you said it the way you said it or when you did. But I’m putting it behind me. What we had there for a few days was fun, but look at what it’s done to us, Carson. We’re not even the same people we were a week ago.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, taken aback.
She takes a deep breath and runs her hand through her hair. “I’m saying that…maybe you were right. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed you. Maybe you shouldn’t have given in. Maybe we shouldn’t have done the things we did. It’s done nothing but confuse us and tear us apart. So, in the spirit of Christmas, I’m going to forgive you. I’m going to forget what you said and go back to how we were before.”
“Oh,” is all I can say.
“No more fighting. No more avoiding. Just two friends. Deal?”
I nod my head even though I don’t know why. Again, just me trying to give her anything she asks for.
“Good,” she breathes out. Then she pulls me in for a hug. Her heat consumes me. Her scent draws me in. My heart starts racing in my chest, begging me to lean in just a bit more and press my lips to hers. I’m craving her taste, her soft lips moving with mine. I need her more now than I’ve ever needed her before. There’s too much between us now to go back to how we were. There was too much before, but now? No way can I move on and pretend all this didn’t happen. Now that I’ve had her in my arms, in my bed, I can’t go back to just being her friend.
Not even if that’s what she wants?
Someone knocks on the door and it opens inwardly. Mom pokes her head in and looks relieved. “Thank baby Jesus. No blanket forts. Come eat dinner, you t
wo.”
Felicity pulls away and follows my mom out of the room, leaving me alone once again. I collapse onto the bed, wondering how I can make her see that this is a bad idea. We can’t go back. We can only move forward. How can I get her to move forward with me?
“Come on, we ain’t waiting all day,” Mom says from down the hall.
I get my ass up and leave the room, heading for the dinner table. The five of us sit around the table just as we have in the years past. My mom and stepdad sit together; Mrs. B sits across from us, and me and Felicity are across from one another. I used to reach under the table and tickle her legs or pinch her, kick her if need be. But today, there’s none of that. I feel like she’s just ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it. Mom says grace and we all bow our heads, then she picks up a dish, takes a serving, and passes it along. Before long, we’re all eating. Everyone’s talking about the Christmas’ from the past and the memories we share. All but me that is. I have nothing to offer this conversation. I sit and eat quietly and nobody but Felicity seems to notice. When I look up from my plate, her eyes are on me, but the moment I try to meet her gaze, her eyes dash away.
After the table is cleared, we all move to the living room for gifts. We all have a glass of wine as we sit around the room. I drink mine a little too quickly and get up for another while my stepfather passes out gifts. When I come back into the room, I look at Felicity and see her big smile as she holds up a sweater my mom gave her for Christmas.
“Thank you,” she says. “I love it.”
“Psh,” accidentally slips out and everyone looks at me. I shake my head so they disregard the comment but take my seat and think, oh, you can love a sweater but you can’t love me? Okay, maybe I should stay away from the wine.
Felicity cuts her eyes toward me and give me a look that asks, are you okay?
Then she picks up a small box and hands it over. “Open mine,” she requests. I wonder why she’s always the one asking me for things. I’ve never once asked her for anything, and yet, I still can’t tell her I love her? I tear into the paper a little too aggressively and open the box. In my hands is a picture frame. In the frame, there are four pictures. Two of them are of us as kids, and two of them are from the past week.
Naughty or Nice: A Friends to Lovers Christmas Romance Page 12
