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It’s the fact that heknowshe’s hot that irks me.
Dominic-fucking-Evansreallyirks me, actually.
Carter tugged Penelope close to him and pressed his lips against her forehead. “Alright, you two better get going.” Penny and I raised our brows. “Dom and I will get the tree into the house while you go buy the ornaments. Then, when you get back, we’re going to decorate it together.” He smiled.
It honestly sounded like a cringe-worthy Hallmark afternoon to me. Plus, I could only stomach very brief amounts of time with Dom. But the smile on Penelope’s face gave away her excitement, and being caught off guard, I wouldn’t be able to think of an excuse or a place to go to get out of it. I grabbed my purse off the ground next to me and began down the stairs.
Chapter 2
“Whatdoyouthink?White or colored lights?” Penny asked.
“Colored. Definitely colored.”
She made a cringing expression at me. “You don’t think colored lights are… tacky?”
“I think they’re definitely more fun to look at.” I gave her a side-long glance. “Plus, you also think sequins are tacky, and that makes up at least forty percent of my wardrobe. So, I’m not sure you really want my opinion.”
“I don’t think sequins aretacky, I just…” she trailed off. “Hate them?”
I laughed as I looped my arm through hers and dragged her down the aisle. “Well, if this is Carter’s tree, then you should choose lights Carter would like.” She nodded thoughtfully as she held up two boxes of lights. “Colors. He’ll want colors, Penny.”
She groaned, but nodded in agreement and threw the box of colored lights into our cart. An hour later we made our way to check out with a full cart that looked like the holidays had thrown up all over it. I also grabbed three stockings and a tree skirt, none of which matched the theme of the tree. Penny hated that none of it was uniformed, and convincing her that Carter would like things better that way was my own way of making the most of this Saturday night.
I slid into the passenger seat of Penelope’s Kia and buckled myself. I wasn’t thrilled about decorating the apartment for Christmas. It wasn’t that I didn’t celebrate it religiously. I’d always partook in the festivities when I was younger. But I wasn’t ready to welcome that warm, gooey, nostalgic feeling that comes with the holidays into my new place yet. It didn’t feel right to me. I wasn’t sure this new life had earned that. It just…didn’t feel like home.
“Does it feel like home to you yet?” I found myself asking Penny, curious if she felt the same way.
She glanced at me, her green eyes pulsating as she stuck the key in the ignition. “What? L.A.?”
I nodded.
She sighed. “I mean, yeah. But…” She blinked thoughtfully. “No place really felt like home to me at all. Home—for me, at least—isn’t a geographical location. It’s a feeling. I’ve only very recently felt like I found that feeling, and it started right around the time I got accepted to UCLA. I associate living here with having that.” She shrugged. “So, yeah. It feels like home.”
“A feeling, or a person?” I asked, raising my brow.
“Both?” Penny chuckled. “I think there are people we meet and places we go that are good for our souls. Places we’re meant to be and people we’re meant to be with. The mixture of the two is what becomes home.”
“Wow,” I puffed. “Are you sure you’re still studying archaeology? Or did you change that to philosophy without telling me?”
“Shut up,” she grumbled. “You know what I mean, though, right? Like soul-people, soul-places.” She glanced at me. “Why do you ask? Does it not feel like home to you?”
I normally have no issue speaking my mind to Penny, but I know she takes responsibility for my decision to come to California. I broke off my three year relationship with Jeremy not long before she got accepted to UCLA. Once I was single, she asked me if I wanted to move here with her. I had nothing keeping me in Brighton Bay, Oregon anymore, and the farther I was from that relationship the better. I had considered following her before she ever asked, but I knew she didn’t see it that way. If I tell her I’m not thriving here in the way I intended, she’d hold responsibility for that too.
Truthfully, I’ve walked around for years feeling like there was a haze surrounding me, separating me from… myself? My highest potential? I didn’t know. I felt incapable of being truly authentic. I thought I felt that way because I was with a person who tore me down instead of building me up. Someone who made me feel like my most authentic self wasn’t a person worth embracing. I thought leaving him and coming to a place like Los Angeles, full of art and creativity, would help me clear that haze– but after six months here, it felt thicker than ever.
Ignoring her question, I laughed. “Am I one of your soul-people?”
She swiveled her head as if hiding her blush. “I’m not sure I even believed in soul-people before I met you, Mace.”
“Me, not Carter?”
Her blush deepened. “Carter is… different.”
Penelope had been through a lot. She hid herself away, punished herself for things that weren’t her fault. I’d only known her for just over a year, but I was certain the first day I met her that she and I were meant to be friends. It was that instant kind of connection that you can’t ignore. So, even though I hadn’t known her long, it was difficult to watch her hate herself, to watch her hide from the world around her and the people who loved her, including me. Carter was her childhood friend and neighbor, and while their past had been rocky, when he showed back up in Brighton Bay earlier this year he helped her piece herself back together and—in a plot twist that shocked absolutely nobody—they ended up falling in love.
I’m just thankful she finally opened herself up to the love she deserves, and that she started, and has continued, seeing a therapist for her trauma. I know that Carter was the catalyst for her reaching this point, but I like to think I played a small role in helping her get there too.
I leaned over the center console and rested my head on her shoulder. Neither Penelope nor myself were very good and being affectionate, but in moments like this, we at least tried. “I think you’re one of my soul-people too.” Before she could ask me more about whether or not I felt at home here, I asked, “Can we get Chinese for dinner?”
