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And I don’t want it to end.
He looks down at me, and I search the depths of his chocolate eyes. I don’t know what I’m looking for or what I want to find, but I get the sense that he’s doing the same thing.
“Luke,” I whisper his name, but I don’t know why. It’s like my mouth just needed to feel his name roll off my tongue.
My ears become acutely aware of the sound of my heart beating inside my chest and the addictive beat of the song. And my eyes can only see him.
Everything else around us, the other people dancing, my sisters, the crowd chatting loudly at the bar, just disappears. And we stay like that, eyes locked and bodies still moving together.
We’re so close. So insanely, painfully, pleasurably close.
My personal space is his personal space, and hell, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
His face moves closer to mine, and his lips are right there. Just a breath away from my mouth.
We’re going to kiss. Every cell inside my body tells me it’s going to happen.
God, I want us to kiss.
But I can’t stop myself from remembering that list I wrote, the one with the rules Luke refused to acknowledge.
“Best friends don’t kiss,” I whisper.
“Well, they should.”
And then, he does.
He. Kisses. Me.
Lips to mine, he coaxes my mouth with the kind of soft tenderness I didn’t even know was possible. His hands slide into my hair, and the teeniest of moans escapes my throat as it feels like a million goose bumps slide across my skin.
He kisses me in the kind of way I’ve always dreamed of being kissed. Slow and delicate at first, and then spreading like wildfire into something that smokes with passion and heat.
I have no idea what this means, if this is pretend or if this is real, but goddamn, it is the best kiss of my life. Just…making all the other important kisses of my life seem like child’s play. Seem inconsequential. Seem like nothing.
When the music switches back to Christmas-themed and our kiss gradually slows and comes to an end, I lean back and look deep into his eyes and wonder if this is the one and only time I’ll get to experience perfection on my lips.
And when Em grabs my attention and asks me to come to the bar with her and get another round of drinks, my mind won’t stop racing with questions.
Was that real? Damn, it sure felt real. It felt like the realest, most powerful, most perfect thing I’ve ever experienced.
Did Luke feel it too? Or am I the only one who is still reeling from that kiss? Whose lips are still tingling from where his lips were on mine.
And the most important question of them all. Did that kiss solidify that what I feel for him is far deeper than just friendship?
Or has it been that way for years?December 24th, Christmas Eve
LukeLast night, I broke all the rules. I threw caution to the wind and just gave the fuck in to what I wanted.
Last night, I kissed my best friend, but now, it’s more apparent than ever that Ava isn’t just my best friend. She is everything I’ve ever wanted. She is the one girl, for the last fifteen years, who has always been on my mind and in my heart.
I have no idea what she is thinking or feeling, but I know, now more than ever, that I want her. I just want her. No one else.
But since we woke up this morning, her dad’s itinerary has kept us otherwise distracted from that kiss. For the last twelve hours, we’ve run around like Christmas lunatics, checking off every activity on her dad’s silly schedule.
Baking cookies with her mom and sisters and aunts.
Standing in the front yard, freezing our asses off, and singing fucking carols at confused passersby.
Watching White Christmas with caramel popcorn and hot chocolate. And, honestly, I’ve never seen a family consume more hot chocolate in the span of mere days than the Lucies.
Basically, you name it, and we fucking did it today.
There isn’t a single person in Lakewood who could accuse us of lacking holiday spirit. If anything, there might be a few people inside this small town who want to strangle the Lucie family.
“Goddamn it, Al!” Poppy’s voice filters up from the downstairs den. “You should never attempt to roll for a long straight unless it’s open-ended!”
“Ha-ha-ha! Poppy’s getting mad because she’s going to lose!” Lily exclaims.
“Shut up, Lil! Even down ten points, I’ll still find a way to kick your ass!”
Though the night appears to still be young downstairs, her mom and dad and great-aunts and uncles invested in a tense game of Yahtzee, Ava and I decide to call it a night and head upstairs.
While she busies herself with a shower, most likely needing to literally wash off the overwhelming amount of Christmas spirit that’s permeated her pores, I lie on her childhood bed, still fully dressed, paging through one of her old yearbooks.
