“Viewers love a festive bicep,” Tilly said with a shrug.
The joke was small but real. Warm enough to thaw a thin stretch of air between them.
Outside, the cold cut sharper. The sky had that heavy, holding-its-breath look that usually meant snow was waiting somewhere above the clouds.
They loaded the truck together. Sav passed Tilly the mic kit and a spare battery. Tilly secured everything with sure movements.
“Got everything?” Sav asked.
“Think so,” Tilly said. “Or we fake it.”
She climbed into the passenger seat. The heater sputtered out a weak breath of warm-ish air.
“You good?” they asked.
Sav nodded. “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.”
They drove in a quiet that wasn’t uncomfortable — just present. The radio murmured a soft Christmas song. Holiday lights blinked along apartment balconies. A half-deflated snowman leaned forward on a stoop like it was giving up on the season.
After a few minutes, Tilly spoke.
“You heading to see your family after tomorrow?”
Sav stared at the lights flickering over the river as they crossed the bridge.
“No,” she said.
Tilly’s head tilted. “No?”
She could’ve stopped there. Kissed the surface of the truth. But something in their voice — steady, not prying — nudged her forward.
“I’m staying here this year,” Sav said. “I told my parents I wasn’t driving home.”
Tilly didn’t fill the silence. They waited.
“It just didn’t feel right,” Sav continued. “The drive, the questions. The whole ‘How’s Boston?’ thing. The ‘Are you eating enough?’ thing. The ‘Met anyone?’ thing.”
Heat rose in her neck. She hoped the low light hid it.
“Sounds exhausting,” Tilly murmured.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t have to explain it,” they said. “Staying in town’s not a bad thing.”
“I know.” She twisted a loose thread on her glove. “It just felt… like I was breaking some rule.”
Tilly let out a breath through their nose. “Then it’s a stupid rule.”
She smiled despite herself. “My mom did sound disappointed.”
“Disappointed’s not the same as wrong,” they said softly. “You’re allowed to do what you need. Even at Christmas.”
Sav stared at the blurred reflection of lights on the windshield. “Thanks.”
“What about you?” she asked quickly.
