“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chris,” Winter lied. “You never said why you’re here.” No, he hadn’t because he was pretty sure she’d remember him admitting that he was there to convince her to spend the night with him—just one night and if she still felt like kicking him to the curb, he’d go. Hell, he’d move back to San Francisco if she needed that much space. He could find a job in the Bay area easier than she could. Plus, he knew she was watching and waiting for her big break in Hollywood as a makeup artist. If she went back home, that might never happen for her and he wanted all of Winter’s dreams to come true for her—she deserved that and so much more. The question was, would she let him give her more?
“We need to talk,” he said. Talking would at least be a start but he was hoping that by the end of their conversation they’d be doing so much more.
“Sure,” she said. “Is this work-related? Can it wait until morning because I’m beat?” He could feel Winter putting her walls in place, trying to push him out.
“No,” he said. “This is personal and can’t wait until tomorrow,” he insisted. “May I come in?” he asked.
Winter sighed and nodded, “Fine,” she grumbled. “As long as we can make this quick.” Nothing Chris wanted to do with her would end quickly but he kept that bit of information to himself. Chris nodded and followed her into her apartment. She had put a little tree in the corner of the room and her stocking was hung by her television.
“You decorated,” he said.
Winter giggled, “I don’t think my tiny decorations count as being fully decorated for Christmas, but yeah. I like to get in the holiday spirit before heading home. My mother always goes overboard on decorations—you know?” He nodded, remembering just how much Mrs. Snow liked to decorate her home for the holidays. He hated Christmas decorations—always had.
“Well, you’re better than me,” he whispered. “I can’t stand Christmas decorations. I avoid them at all costs.” His mother used to rip down all their Christmas decorations, trees and ornaments included, about halfway through Christmas Day, and pull out the “Happy Birthday” banner she had for him. She made such a fuss about making his special day all about him that she didn’t realize that she was ruining his Christmas spirit. Instead of watching his mom go through all the work of putting up decorations only to tear them down on Christmas, he told her not to bother.
“I get it—it’s hard having a birthday on Christmas. Kind of puts you in less of a festive mood—right? It’s like getting a ‘Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday’ card from Grandma.” Chris nodded and chuckled.
“One year, my grandfather sent me a birthday gift wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper and my mother went ballistic. She called him up and instead of wishing him a Merry Christmas, she berated him for almost an hour for making me feel less special on my birthday. Honestly, I loved the gift he sent me that year and didn’t give a flying fuck what wrapping paper he used to wrap my gift,” he admitted.
“What did you get that year?” she asked.
Chris smiled, “Moon boots,” he said. “You know the ones that you could bounce around in and pretend you were on the moon? I was ten and thought it was the coolest gift ever.”
“I remember you playing with those,” she said. “I was so jealous and when I asked my mom if I could use some of my birthday money to get a pair, she told me that a girl my age was too old for such nonsense. She said that pretty little girls shouldn’t have their knees scraped up. God, I wanted to go outside and fall off my bike or something just to spite her for telling me no,” Winter admitted.
“You were such a tomboy,” Chris teased. “For the first sixteen years of our lives, I actually thought you were secretly a boy.”
“What happened when we turned sixteen that changed your mind?” she asked. “I started paying attention—well, my dick did. That was the first time I looked at you and realized how pretty you are Winter,” he said. She was standing close enough for him to touch but he shoved his hands into his pockets to stop himself from reaching out for her.
“We had that joint roller skating party that year—remember?” she asked as if trying to change the topic.
“How could I forget?” he asked. “It was my favorite shared party of ours. I asked you to couples skate and you said yes,” he whispered. “It was the first time I got to hold your hand and God, I was so fucking nervous,” he admitted.
“You were?” she asked.
“Yep—I’m surprised your hand didn’t just slide right out of mine. I was a sweaty mess, I was so nervous,” he said. It was the first time he had ever asked a girl to couples skate and the first time he held a girl’s hand. He was happy that he had those firsts with Winter but he wanted so many more—he was just too much of a chicken to ask her for them.
“You seemed so calm and cool about the whole thing. I felt like my heart would beat out of my chest when you grabbed my hand and pulled me out into the skating ring,” she whispered.
“I was a pretty bad skater,” he joked. “You probably thought I was leading you to your doom.”
Winter giggled and shook her head, “No,” she said. “I was nervous about skating with a boy for the first time.” She was standing so close to him, he could feel her warm breath on his cheek, almost like a caress.
“I was your first?” he asked. Winter leaned into his body and nodded. Her long blond hair fell over her shoulder with the movement and Chris couldn’t help himself any longer. He was done holding back, worried that he wasn’t reading the signals she was giving him correctly. He pulled his hands from his pockets and pushed her hair from her face, running his hand down her soft cheek to gently cup her face into his hands.
“I need to know that you feel something here, Winter. Tell me that I’m not just making this all up in my mind. Tell me that if I cross the line tonight, you’ll still be my best friend in the morning because losing you isn’t an option,” Chris whispered.
“You’ll never lose me, Chris. That’s just not possible,” she said. Winter hesitated and then wrapped her arms around his waist. They were always touchy, feely with each other. Hell, they cuddled on her sofa and watched old movies together but this felt different. It felt right to be holding Winter against his body—touching her and having her touch him back.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked. He was ready to take the leap even if she hadn’t admitted that she was feeling the same thing he was. At least she told him he’d never lose her—that would be enough for him for now.
“Chris,” she said. He worried that she was going to protest or worse, tell him, no but instead, she went up onto her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. That simple connection felt like electricity coursing through him and with just one simple stroke of her tongue—lightning followed. Winter tasted like the warm sunshine that they used to bathe in poolside, soaking it up on the long summer days. She tasted like the ice cream cones that they used to get after school, stopping at their favorite little shop on their walk home. She tasted like rainstorms that they used to play in, jumping in the puddles that remained after the storm passed. Winter tasted like home.