Secret Santa

by Noelle Adams

  I’m more aware of his body than normal, but that’s probably because he’s wearing his underwear. Things are good between us again, and I’m not about to mess them up.

  “I just want you to be happy, May,” he murmurs against my ear. “You know that, right?”

  “Yeah. I know that.”

  “I want you to be even happier than I am.”

  I pull away, searching his face. “Aren’t you happy, Jeremy?”

  He nods. “Usually I am. A lot happier than I ever was before I knew you.”

  That does me in. I grab him in another hug and shake against him with emotion I simply can’t help.

  “You’re not crying again, are you?” he asks dryly. Despite his tone, he’s holding me close, making no move to release me.

  “Of course not.” The lie is muffled by his shirt. “I don’t cry all the time.”

  He snorts and loosens his arms. He lifts one hand to brush a tear away. “You cry more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “I can’t help it. And most of the time it’s not bad crying.”

  “I know you can’t help it. I don’t care, as long as I’m not the one who’s always making you bad cry.”

  “You don’t. Hardly ever.”

  “Okay. That’s all right then.” His hand is still lifted. His knuckle is lightly brushing my cheek. He jerks his head slightly and drops his hand. “It’s late. Did you want to come in and hang out?”

  I make a face as I try to decide. I really do want to stay, but it’s almost midnight and Jeremy was in bed.

  He evidently reads the internal debate on my face and interprets it correctly. “You can come to bed with me if you want. I don’t mind.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “I’ve got to take Leo out again. He’ll never forgive me if we get up and he doesn’t get to go outside. Just grab something of mine to sleep in if you want.”

  I do what he suggests. I find a worn T-shirt of his from years ago. It’s so big it swallows me up and hangs halfway down my thighs. Then I go to the bathroom, wash my face, and rub toothpaste over my teeth and tongue before I rinse.

  That’s the extent of my bedtime preparations tonight. I climb into Jeremy’s big bed. The TV is on and set to a cable channel that runs historical mystery shows all night. He loves those. I settle under the covers on the side of the bed that’s not Jeremy’s and feel better than I have in two days.

  We used to do this in college. It’s always made me feel safe. Comforted. I need that right now.

  Jeremy’s return is prefaced by Leo bounding into the room, giving a yip of joy when he sees me, and hopping onto the bed to lick my face. I giggle and give him a hug that evidently satisfies him. He returns to his place at the bottom of the bed near Jeremy’s feet and curls up into a tight ball to go back to sleep.

  After going to the bathroom, Jeremy comes to bed too. He smiles at me as he gets under the covers and stretches out beside me.

  Not really beside me.

  It’s a king-size bed, and there’s at least two feet of space between our bodies.

  “You okay?” he asks, turning on his side to look at me.

  “Yeah. I’m good. Are you?”

  “I’m good too.”

  “Okay. Good night then.”

  “Good night.” He turns off the bedside lamp, leaving the room illuminated only by the blueish glow of the television.

  He’s turning over when I blurt out, “I love you.” It’s not like I’ve never told him that before. I’ve told him over and over again for all the years of our relationship.

  I’m not sure why I need to say it right now, but I do.

  He freezes for a second, halfway in his turn onto his back. Then he says in a soft, thick voice, “I love you too, May. Now go to sleep.”

  I’m satisfied now. I feel safe again. So I do.

  Three

  THE FIRST THING I’M aware of the following morning is an overwhelming sensation of warmth. Coziness. It makes me sigh with pleasure before I even open my eyes.

  There’s a slow process of me waking up, coming to awareness, orienting myself to time and place. It takes longer than usual because something doesn’t feel familiar about this bed and this room.

  I realize what it is as soon as I realize the hot weight on top of me is Jeremy.

  I rolled over onto my stomach at some point during the night.

  And somehow Jeremy ended up on top of me.

  It’s not uncomfortable, even though his body is big. Only about half his body is resting on mine. His arm is slung over the remainder of my body, trapping me in place.

  Not that I want to move.

  I definitely don’t want to move.

  I feel warm. Safe. Protected. Cared for. Even in his sleep, Jeremy is surrounding me with his body. With everything he is. His face is tucked to the side so his breath wafts over the bare skin at the back of my neck. It ruffles my hair in a deep, steady rhythm.

  He’s sound asleep. That much is obvious. It must still be very early on a Sunday morning. It’s barely light outside.

  Jeremy clearly rolled over onto my side sometime during the night, which is how he ended up on top of me. I turn my head cautiously so I don’t wake him and discover Leo is stretched out diagonally on Jeremy’s side of the bed, snoring loudly.

  I smile with no least desire to move. I can’t remember ever feeling cozier than this—in bed with Jeremy and Leo.

  Closing my eyes, I try to drift back to sleep, but I don’t want to miss out on the snuggling with Jeremy, so I stay awake instead.

  Jeremy isn’t a cuddler. I had to teach him how, and it took years and years to do. When he was first tutoring me in high school, he didn’t like to be touched, even in the most casual of ways. The first time I hugged him (at the end of the school year when I made a B+ on my final exam) he had no idea how to respond. He stood stiffly, his arms at his sides, until I was on the verge of pulling back. Then he finally wrapped his arms around me in a grip that was almost desperate, squeezing me so hard I couldn’t breathe for a moment.

  I wondered then and I wonder again now if that was his first real hug. Sixteen years old and never been hugged. It’s such a heartbreaking thought that my eyes burn.

  I’m not given the chance to revel in the emotion. Jeremy makes a husky sound in his sleep and shifts position slightly. The adjustment isn’t uncomfortable. It’s like he’s trying to pull me more fully beneath him. But the change in our bodies brings something into stark clarity.

  Jeremy is aroused, and his erection is now poking into my butt.

  I gasp. No way not to.

  It’s not the first time I’ve been around Jeremy when he’s had a hard-on. We had a few awkward moments in high school and college when I either stopped by his room at the wrong time or he randomly got turned on when we happened to be together. But it hasn’t happened in a long time, and I’ve never been touching him like this when he had an erection.

  I certainly have never felt him against my bottom.

  The sensation causes my entire body to clamp down, like it desperately wants him inside me, like it’s trying to pull him in. I’m blazing hot in less than five seconds, and my breathing turns fast and shallow.

  Oh God, it feels so good. He’s rocking his hips just slightly, like his sleeping body knows what it wants. He lets out a long, thick breath that’s almost a groan.

  I whimper and shift beneath him, unsure whether I’m trying to pull away or trying to pump my ass up into him.

  His sleeping self must think it’s the latter because he groans again and takes hold of the sheet with the arm that’s extended over me. He uses his grip on it to push himself up slightly and then does what can only be labeled a thrust against my bottom.

  I make a weird little cry at the delicious torment of the move. At how it makes every muscle in my body clench and my insides start to throb.

  He’s going to do it again. I know he is. And I want it
so much.

  But this is wrong. I’m just as aroused as he is right now, and he’s not even awake. I can’t let him do it. I couldn’t let anyone do it—not when they weren’t making a conscious choice—but with Jeremy it’s even more important that I don’t indulge in a stray carnal urge.

  “Jeremy.” My voice is edged with desperation. “Jeremy, wake up.”

  He makes a series of throaty sounds and rocks against me again.

  “Jeremy! Jeremy, please!”

  Leo wakes up and jumps to his feet with a sharp bark, ready to face whatever crisis is lurking.

  And Jeremy wakes up too. Finally. At last. His body tenses up and he mumbles, “Huh?” as he lifts his head.

  It doesn’t take him long to figure out what’s going on. Where he is and what he’s doing. “Shit,” he gasps after about five seconds. He rolls off me in an awkward rush and sits on the far side of the bed.

  I let out a breath. It’s relief, not disappointment. Definitely not disappointment. I roll over and push the covers down because I’m so hot it feels like I might melt. I’m wearing only Jeremy’s old T-shirt, and it’s hiked up to my waist. My panties are showing.

  Jeremy’s eyes focus on them before he wrenches his face to the other side.

  I pull up the sheet halfway so I’m covered and try to say something natural. “Well, that was awkward.”

  He makes a soft huff, but it’s not really a laugh.

  “Since when have you become a snuggler?” I’m trying. Desperately. To get us past this moment. To feel like myself again. To get him to feel like himself again too.

  He clears his throat and stands up without answering. The bottom of his undershirt has gotten twisted up some, exposing an expanse of skin at his back. I can see the firm contours of his ass through the thin fabric of his boxers. When he turns his body slightly, I can see the fabric at the front is stretched from his erection.

  I’m acutely aware of his body. The size and strength and substance of him. The humanness of him.

  He rubs his face with both hands. “I’m sorry.” His voice is way too thick.

  “It’s fine. It’s not your fault. These things happen.” These are words I need to say, but I don’t really believe them. Because I can’t help feeling like he wanted to do what he was doing to me earlier, and I definitely wanted it too. “No big deal.”

  “How long—how long was that going on?” His cheeks are flushed darkly, and he’s not meeting my eyes.

  “Not long.” I take a ragged breath. “You were asleep. It’s no big deal.”

  “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t give me time to respond again. He leaves the bedroom, and then the sound of the bathroom door shutting firmly comes a couple of seconds later.

  I collapse back onto the bed and shake with repressed sobs for a minute. I don’t really cry. It’s mostly just a release of too much emotion. Then I search for something to do—anything else to think about—and I’m saved by the tap of Leo’s paws on the wood floor as he runs back and forth from the bed to the door.

  I get up and go to let him outside.

  I feel a little better as I step out into the cold morning air. Winters are usually not too harsh in this part of Virginia, and this morning there’s no trace of frost. But the air is brisk, and I’m not even wearing shoes. Just my panties and a T-shirt.

  I cross my arms in front of my chest as I wait for Leo to do his business.

  “What the hell, May?” The voice is loud and indignant. Coming from right behind me.

  I turn around to see Jeremy. He’s pulled on a pair of sweats. “Leo needed to go out.”

  “Well, you didn’t need to go out with him. It’s cold out here, and you’re wearing nothing. Get back inside.” He sounds grumpy. Bossy. More so than the situation warrants.

  I scowl at him. “I’m fine. I’m perfectly capable of deciding for myself whether I’m too cold.”

  “Obviously you’re not.” He gives me a little push toward the door. “Get the hell inside. I’ll wait with Leo.”

  My scowl deepens, and I’m tempted to argue—merely because he’s being a jerk—but it is cold and an argument will serve nothing. I go inside and start to make a pot of coffee.

  I’m standing in front of the counter waiting for it when Jeremy and Leo come back in. Leo is ecstatic, running to greet me like he hadn’t seen me in years and then snuffling around the house to make sure everything is as it should be and his domain didn’t get invaded by nameless intruders while he slept.

  Jeremy stands beside me as the coffee drips slowly into the pot.

  I don’t have any idea what to say, so I don’t say anything.

  After a minute, he mumbles, “Y’okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I told you it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “And you mean it?”

  “Yes, I mean it.” I let out a long sigh and turn to look at him. I still feel hot and flustered, but our relationship is too important to let this go without dealing with it. “I’m kind of embarrassed.”

  “So am I.”

  “But it’s not like...” I chew my lip as I think about how to say this. “It’s not like it... it means something. More than you’re a regular man who sometimes wakes up hard. I happened to be there. I’m not used to... I mean, I don’t really think about you like...” I trail off because I’m not even sure the words are the truth. I’ve never thought about him as a sexual being before, but I’ve definitely been thinking that way for the past few days.

  “I know you don’t.” His voice is way too thick.

  “So that’s why it feels weird to me. But it’s really fine. We’ve gotten through everything else. We can get through this too.” There’s a plea in my voice, and I know he’ll hear it.

  We have to get through this.

  We have to.

  I’m not going to be able to exist if we don’t, if I lose him.

  “Okay.” He nods, his eyes on the floor. “We’ll get through it. So what do you want to do?” He raises his eyes. “Pretend it never happened?”

  I nod slowly because that’s what I want. I don’t have any hope that I’ll be able to do it, but I want it nonetheless. “Yeah. Let’s just move on.”

  “Okay.” For a moment he looks exhausted. Defeated. Then the expression disappears like it was never there. “We’ll move on.”

  WE DO MOVE ON. I HANG out with him that morning. He makes us breakfast, and we watch an old movie. Then I go home and try to feel like myself again.

  I mostly manage. The week progresses in a normal fashion. I spend most of my time at work. I text Jeremy daily. We occasionally stop by each other’s offices for a few minutes. We get together on Tuesday to have lunch in the dining hall.

  It’s all normal. We communicate the same amount as we do in a lot of weeks of our lives. But it feels like there’s a block between us. An invisible block. Getting in the way. Even when I’m with him, sitting only a few inches away, it feels like we’re not together the way we should be.

  I hate it, and I can’t stop brooding about it.

  When George Franks texts to ask me out again on Saturday night, I readily accept, hoping the distraction will cause the nerves that have been fluttering in my stomach all week to finally rest.

  It doesn’t work. Jeremy and I don’t get together on Friday night. He doesn’t even suggest it, and this fact hurts a lot more than it should. And he doesn’t call or come over or anything on Saturday.

  Maybe he’s busy. Or maybe he’s avoiding me.

  And I hate it.

  I’m not in a good mood on Saturday evening when I get ready for my date with George. I dress in slim-cut black pants that make my butt look fantastic and an ice-blue top. I look good, but I don’t feel good.

  I miss Jeremy so much it makes me want to cry.

  George takes me to the most popular restaurant in Milford. (There aren’t that many restaurants, so this isn’t a tough competition.) It’s crowded when we arrive. We have to wait about ten minutes for a table to open up. We sta
nd in a corner and I smile up at him, giggling and doing my best to flirt.

  I want George to like me. I want to be into him. I want a romantic relationship that feels as close as my relationship with Jeremy. I can’t blow this—not just because things have gotten weird with Jeremy in the past two weeks.

  As we’re walking across the room to our table, I get tingles running up and down my spine. I have no idea why, so I look around and discover the source almost immediately.

  Jeremy is at a table for two against the wall. He’s looking at me with a sober expression. There’s a woman sitting in the other chair. She’s short and curvy and pretty with blond hair and a lot of cleavage. Her lips are big, and her hair is long. She looks lush. Feminine. Sexy. And she’s Jeremy’s date.

  I had no idea he was going out with anyone tonight. He didn’t tell me.

  The pain in my chest threatens to suffocate me. He’s still watching me, but he doesn’t smile, and I don’t smile either. Not until I jerk my eyes away and look up at George. He puts a hand on my back as we approach our table, and I smile.

  I smile, and I smile, and I smile. Until it feels like the stretch of my mouth is literally going to kill me.

  I have no idea who Jeremy’s companion is, but she’s probably everything he wants in a woman. She’s the polar opposite of me.

  He’s probably going to fall in love with her and get married.

  He’s always wanted to get married and start a family. Since college, he’s had three serious relationships, each lasting more than a year. He wants to commit. I know he does. He wants a partner to go through life with, and he doesn’t want that partner to only be me. He wants someone to have sex with, live with, make babies with.

  It’s probably going to be her. The lovely, curvy blonde.

  And I’ll lose him for good.

  I come to this conclusion as I’m finishing my salmon.

  I’ve lost Jeremy. I know it for sure. I can see it happening as the days spiral out from this exact moment. It hurts so much I can no longer pretend to laugh and flirt with George. I excuse myself by saying I need to make a trip to the lady’s room, and I stumble less than gracefully through the crowded room.