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Tradition. It didn't seem so bad, at the moment. Inhaling the scent of fudge, I saw presents under Ben's family Christmas tree while an angel gleamed from on high.
But I felt anything but angelic.
While Ben's dog, Rusty, wagged his tail and circled us, Ben helped me get my mittens off. Then, testing the lower step of the staircase for squeaks, Ben said, "After you."
Up the stairs we crept to his boyhood room, which was cluttered up with army caps and a footlocker, and lined with a ridiculous number of shiny basketball trophies.
I shook my head. "Such an overachiever!"
"In bed and everywhere else," Ben boasted, shutting the door behind him and locking it. "You're sure this isn't creepy?"
"It's sweet," I said, meaning it in the best possible way. He'd softened me up in a way that cookies, and tinsel, and holiday songs never could. I was feeling the joy of the season of giving, and boy, did I want to give him a present.
Ben took a deep breath, flicked on a dim snowflake lamp by his bedpost next to a random santa hat, then eased back onto the single bed with its camouflage bedspread. "Then allow me to introduce you to the mattress upon which a thousand boyhood Becca Vincent fantasies were dreamed up."
I snickered. "Did you bang Maureen here?"
Ben raised a brow. "What if I did?"
"Then we should do it in exactly the same spot and send her a picture."
He blinked. "That's…a really evil idea."
"Evil ideas are my bad girl super power."
His wide eyes narrowed in appreciation. "I really do like bad girls…"
"I finally believe you," I said, with a chuckle. "So show me where I should plant my ass to erase Maureen from your mattress."
He grinned. "You've long since erased her. Besides, I never did it with Maureen here. Sadly, this m
attress has seen distressingly little action."
Straddling his leg and donning the santa hat from his bed post, I said, "Well, Soldier, that's about to change."
To my surprise, his smile fell away. "Ok, but before it does…I've got to tell you something."
Uh oh. So there really was another shoe and it was about to drop right down the chimney. "Okay," I said, shakily, because even fully dressed, I felt softer and more vulnerable than I could ever remember feeling. "Is it bad?"
"You're probably going to think so."
I felt my brow furrow. "Then just say it."
"I'm so into you, Becca, that I feel like I'm lost right now," he said, with an honest-to-god scowl. "I mean, I've always been into you. I never lied about that. But what we just did together cracked open something inside me and got mixed all together with you."
My heart actually squeezed inside my chest. "Oh, Ben—"
"Look, I know it's not cool to talk about this shit in a pre-coital haze. It's all sugary and traditional and small-town and everything you hate—"
"Ben—"
"I get it, Becca. You drew your boundaries and I ought to respect them. I'm fucking up a perfect night right now. Trust me, I know. I don't want to kill the mood, but I feel like it's going to kill me if I don't tell you how I feel. You're the girl. You've always been the girl. I tried to let this be a fling. I really did. And maybe right up until this moment I could let it be. I've held my shit together until now. But for me, going forward, it's not a fling, it's a thing. So—"
"Ben!" I took his face in my hands to shut him up. "It's absolutely a thing. For me too, okay?"
He let out a breath, then touched his forehead to mine. "Yeah?"
"Definitely. But let's talk about it after I screw your brains out."
