Page 115 of Felix

“Where?” I say, pushing upright and looking around as Christian laughs beside me.

“They’re already wrapped and ready to go, Specs. You’ll have to wait to open them with the rest of the presents.” He pauses for a moment before asking, “Are you ready?”

That knot in my gut tightens again, but I drop my feet to the floor and straighten my shirt with more determination than I feel. “Yeah,” I say firmly. “Let’s go.”

Less than half an hour later, my confidence has all but dissolved.

“This is such a bad idea,” I moan. “Why did I wait until now?”

Christian gives my hand a squeeze from the passenger seat of my car. The engine is off, my parents’ house right there in front of us, waiting.

“This is the worst time for this,” I go on. “What was I thinking?”

“Breathe, Specs,” Christian says gently, his very presence soothing me. “It’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

He hums. “I guess I don’t, but I believe it. And I know you can do this. You stood up for Henry. It’s time to stand up for yourself.”

“It’s so much harder.”

“Earlier this week, you got spit-roasted by me and Niko while giving new-guy Sean a handjob. Is it really harder than that?”

“Oh Jesus,” I wheeze. “Why’d you have to bring that up?”

“Because I knew it’d relax you,” he says, the cheeky bastard.

“Relax isn’t the right word,” I huff out. Although I do feel marginally better. “For the record, bringing up our sexual escapades, romantic or otherwise, is far from relaxing.”

“Mm. You looked pretty relaxed at the time.”

“Fuck-drunk,” I correct, letting Christian’s hand go so we can get out of the vehicle. “There’s a difference.”

“Noted,” he says, chuckling.

“I don’t know why I love you,” I mumble, trying to hide my smile.

He snorts. “It’s the skirts.”

“It’s not the skirts,” I say, grabbing his hand again as we walk up the steps toward the front door. “They’re just a bonus.”

His smile is warm. “You say the sweetest things, Specs.”

“I do not, and we both know it. Most of the shit that comes out of my mouth is a disaster. But you’re nice enough not to point it out. Fuck. This is going to be a disaster, too. It’s not too late to just…leave. We could just leave and try again another time.”

“But it’s Christmas,” Christian says lightly, facing me as we come to a stop at the front door. “Henry and Rebecca are here, and I know you want to see them. Plus, you brought presents.”

I grip the bag tighter.

“It’ll be fine, Specs. You can do this. You’re brave and smart and good, and your parents love you. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“I don’t either,” I admit softly.

He squeezes my hand. “So just be honest with them. I think you’ll be surprised. I think they’ll turn it around, the same as they have for Henry.”

I nod, knowing he’s likely right. It’s what I’ve been telling myself over and over since Thanksgiving, after all.

“My therapist says I’m catastrophizing the outcome in my head,” I say. “Because then, no matter what happens, it’ll be better than I anticipated.”

---