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This ritual feels sacred, fuzzy nostalgia coating my insides like hot cider. I meet London's eyes and find my contentment mirrored on his face. For a beautiful, fleeting moment, the chasm between our worlds doesn't seem so vast.
After dinner, Leo disappears into his bedroom while London and I fall into familiar silence while tidying up. The undercurrent charging the air all the time crackles more than ever between us.
Finally settled on the lumpy sofa, London scrubs both hands down his face before meeting my gaze. "Thank you for being here," he says gruffly. "It means a lot, even if..."
He trails off, but I hear the rest. Even if you could’ve spent your time in a mansion instead of a rundown two-bedroom apartment with a thrift store couch.
I try to tell him that his world means more than mine ever could. That the love and character etched into these walls and people outweighs any privilege. My tongue feels clumsy forming the words, but something in London's stare tells me he understands anyway.
London studies me, eyes glittering in the Christmas tree lights. "So, what's the real story with your family? All those cracks you hide under the whole Kensington pedigree and shit."
I stiffen, pulse kicking. I kept the dark side of being a Kensington hidden for so long, but London sees through it all. Those piercing eyes strip away my polished facade.
"It's complicated," I hedge, fingers shredding a loose thread on my shirt.
London leans forward, perpetual intensity radiating off him. "Yeah? Try me, Golden Boy. I know complicated family bullshit, remember?"
His challenge and the hand he puts on my knee spur me on. I meet his stare. "My father expects nothing short of perfection. And if you disappoint, you're dead to him." I give a bleak laugh. "Guess I've been a ghost for a long time."
My programmed composure slips, just as it does whenever London Lancaster looks at me for too long. He has a way of unraveling my seams, exposing the fragile soul inside.
London's thumb strokes over my leg, soothing and electric. "He's still got you chasing his bullshit approval though, doesn't he? I see it in how hard you push yourself."
I look away, hating the truth in his words. My next admission comes out in a hoarse whisper. "And my mother... she checked out years ago. At the bottom of a bottle, or whatever her poison of the day is."
London squeezes my leg, grounding me. His own gaze holds old hurts. "That's a shitty hand you got dealt, Kensington. But it doesn't define you, alright? You got away, made your own path."
My throat tightens at the absolution in his tone. I cover his hand with my own, our fingers lacing together. "I didn't do it alone. But yeah... I'm trying."
London holds my stare, fire sparking beneath the vulnerability we've traded. "Just don't forget you’ve got people in your corner now. Including me."
The simple vow warms my soul and soothes my past hurts. London makes me feel like I can conquer the darkness.
What is it about him? I find myself letting my guard down and admitting weaknesses no one else knows and all he has to do is look at me and I want to spill all my secrets. Somehow, baring myself brings relief rather than shame. Like cutting into an infected wound to start the healing.
With him, I think that kind of healing may finally be within reach.
We're both broken boys underneath the bravado, aren't we? Carrying our pain and anger onto the ice, desperate to rewrite our stories. Is that why we clash so spectacularly? Because we’re afraid to see ourselves reflected in each other?
London's hand squeezes mine. "I'm glad you're here for the holidays, Ri. Dunno why exactly but… having you here feels right somehow."
My breath catches hearing him speak my own feelings out loud. It's crazy how sharing this glimpse of his life changed everything for me. Maybe for him, too.
I rub my thumb across his knuckles. "There's nowhere I'd rather be."
The admission hangs between us, like every time we open up, this new bond between us knots us tighter together. London squeezes once before releasing my hand.
"Come on, help me put Leo's presents under the tree before we crash." There's a playful lightness in London's eyes now that warms me more than any fire could.
I really want to kiss him.
I follow him down the short hall to Leo's room, leaning against the doorframe as London arranges a couple of wrapped packages under the glittering tree. Watching his strong hands caress each gift, I'm struck by a startling but certain realization:
I want to be more than just his friend, rival, or teammate. London Lancaster has a magnetic pull on me that goes beyond any of those roles. And it terrifies me even as my entire being strains toward him.
It's no use resisting gravity. In London's presence, I'm helpless but to fall. I only hope that he’ll be there to break it. All I know is my path is leading me to him. Where it ends, I have no fucking clue.
London glances up, catching my stare. He’s not wearing a shirt and that damn hat is driving me insane. "What?"
