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I shifted around in the seat and readjusted my jeans so she wouldn’t notice the growing beast that seemed to lately want to wave her way whenever she came around me. “No, no. Go ahead. Tell me again how good-looking I am,” I joked.
She groaned. “I was just trying to be nice because I know most people think you’re ugly because of your big forehead. You’re gorgeous in an odd kind of way. Like yeah, your earlobes hang low, and your torso is too long for words. And sure, your lips are deflated pancakes, but hey, at least you got your nose.” She tilted her head and stared at me. “Oh, wait. That’s crooked, too.”
I laughed. “Are you sassing me, Mrs. Blackstone?”
“Maybe a little, Mr. Blackstone.”
I was falling for this side of her.
I was falling for the way she mocked me.
I was falling for the way she made goofy faces.
I was falling for… her.
The car jerked forward one more time, and Stella’s laughter filled the air.
Just like that, I was hers, and she didn’t even know it.
“Can we spend Christmas together?” Stella asked after yet another driving lesson. Christmas was two weeks around the corner, and nothing about California felt very Christmas-y. I was used to filthy snow by this time of year and strangers cussing you out as you walked down the streets of New York.
“Are you a Christmas girl?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Stella’s eyes lit up as she nodded aggressively. “I am a Christmas girl. Times a million. I hired people to come deck out the house tomorrow, but I was also thinking maybe we can do some fun Christmas activities together. Like go sledding up north. Or go see the Christmas lights or—”
“Watch The Holiday, Love Actually, or Four Christmases while drinking hot cocoa?” I asked.
Her jaw dropped open as she pointed a finger at me. “How do you know those movies?”
“I might have searched out Christmas rom-coms to watch with you, knowing that you already loved Christmas. I also got us tickets to see The Nutcracker.”
“How did you know I loved Christmas?”
“I just study you, that’s all. I see how you react to things in public and make mental notes of what I think you might enjoy.”
Her hands fell against her chest as she shook her head in disbelief. “My hard hummus.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I just…” She was crying, but it was okay. I’d learned early on that she shared her emotions through her tears. It felt like a privilege to make her cry happy tears. And a heartbreak to make her cry sad ones. I knew these were happy, though, which made me glad.
I’d also learned to carry tissues in my pockets for my gentle girl.
My gentle girl?
No. She wasn’t mine, but sometimes my scarred heart liked to pretend.
She sniffled and smiled at me. “You’re the kindest man I’ve ever met.”
“You’re the greatest woman on this planet,” I replied without thought.
I thought about kissing her.
I didn’t, but… yeah. I thought about it.
“Don’t do that, Damian,” she whispered.
“Do what?”
“Make my heart skip for you.”
We spent the days leading up to Christmas doing every holiday thing possible. I’d watched Stella’s eyes light up in wonderment at the littlest things. We walked through the streets, admiring the Christmas lights. We drove up north to cut down our own tree and decorated it with strings of popcorn like she used to do with her mother, and strings of Froot Loops like I once did with a foster family.
The week before Christmas, we sat on the couch, drinking hot cocoa and watching yet another Christmas movie. This time, it was It’s a Wonderful Life. I’d never seen it, but Stella told me she watched it every single year with Kevin.
Lately, when she talked about him, I didn’t feel hatred anymore. I felt wonderment. I secretly wanted to know more about the man who raised her, and the one who didn’t get a chance to raise me, too. Would this have been our tradition? Would he have eaten scones with me, too?
We sat on the couch, and I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a touch of emotions at the end of the movie when the town came together for George.
“Are you crying?” Stella asked, looking my way. She, of course, was in tears.
Me, on the other hand? I sniffled. “No. Allergies.”
She laughed and nudged me in the arm. “Lying?”
“Yes.” Lying.
Every time she touched me, my body reacted with chills.
Nudge me again, Stella.
“I like this side of you, you know,” she explained. “The soft side.”
“It only comes out around you for some reason.”
“Do you feel safe with me, Beast?”
I wanted to make a sarcastic remark, to brush off her comment because it felt as if I were being too vulnerable with my emotions. Emotions I didn’t even know I’d had. Instead, I said, “Yes.”
