Page 9 of Wrapped Up in Holly

He absently tugged on the woven bracelet he still wore, even though it looked like it would disintegrate at any moment. Especially since we were no longer twelve, and his wrists were those of a man.

He’d grown out of his chubbiness by high school, hit six feet tall by the time we turned sixteen. Now, he was an inch or so over, his shoulders broad, his arms and legs thick with muscle from all the time he spent in the gym with the football team. His dark hair was still shaggy though, a bit of the little boy I’d met six years ago.

“What are you working on?” I rolled over to my stomach, making myself at home on his bed.

“I have that Hamlet paper due for Miss Salvatore.”

Evan and I only had one class together, and it was Environmental Science. I took it for an easy A, but he thought it would help him in his major at college. He’d been set on Agriculture and Business at Ohio State, and he assumed I’d be going with him. He’d already sent in his application.

“Do you want me to help?” I asked because he was more into numbers and science, while I was better with words and art.

He glanced over his shoulder, offering me a wicked half-smile. “Yeah. Promise to go down on me when I finish.”

I snorted and threw his pillow at him. He caught it and hunched over to whack me on the butt with it. When I giggled, he leapt on me, his Hamlet paper apparently forgotten as he pushed me to my back.

He held himself over me, his hands on either side of my head, his thighs bracketing mine. He smelled so good, like his woodsy deodorant and fresh cotton and the gingerbread cookies that he’d snatched from the plate in the kitchen. He smelled like home. “I can’t wait until college, and I can get you naked whenever I want.”

I tried to smile but felt it wobble.

He ducked down to kiss my throat. “You’re looking at me like you have something to say.”

He knew me so well, and I sighed, combing my fingers into his hair, hoping it would be easier to tell him if I didn’t have to face him. I held him to me as he toyed with my sweatshirt, gliding his fingers under the hem and sneaking under the waistband of my jeans. He sucked at my collarbone, not making it very easy for me to get this off my chest.

“I…well…”

As if he knew, he wiggled his hand under my sweatshirt and T-shirt, pressing his big palm into the center of my chest, right above my heart. His skin was warm, his fingers slightly rough, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, emboldened by his sweet and gentle handling of me.

Evan was my best friend. What was I so afraid of?

“I don’t want to go to Ohio State,” I blurted. “I want to go to fashion school in New York.”

“You… What?” He jerked his head back, his hazel eyes searching my face for understanding.

“I know that’s what you had planned but?—”

“What I had planned,” he repeated, backing away from me to run his hands through his hair. “I thought it’s whatwehad planned.”

“I know.” I sat up. “I know, but I…” I shook my head, clearing it of my jumbled thoughts as his gaze swept over me again, a little angry, a lot frustrated. “The closer it gets, the more I realize it’s not what I want. I…I can’t…”

“You can’t what? Be with me?” he guessed, and I blanched.

“No. No, Evan, no. I love you.” I crawled into his lap, and his hands automatically cupped my butt as I bracketed his jaw with my fingers, my skin a few shades paler than his. “I love you so much.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his brow furrowing as he breathed out through his nose. “But you don’t want to go to school with me.”

NowIwas the one frustrated. “It’s not aboutyou. It’s about me. It’s about what I want. You know how hard it’s been for me, being here,” I said, but I felt how that was another unintended slight. “I mean… God, why is this so hard?”

When my voice cracked, he fixed his gaze back on me, this time soft and sad. He soothed me with soft circles on my back. “Tell me.”

I swallowed down my nerves. “I need to figure out who I am. I was so unhappy when I came here, and you and your family were pretty much the only thing that made me feel better. But I can’t keep relying on you. I need to know whoIam, and I want to see if I can make it. I want to see if I have any talent.”

“Of course, you’re talented. You need to go to New York to figure that out?” He nudged me off him and stood, pacing backand forth across his room. It wasn’t all that big, so he was more or less pivoting. “So what? Does this mean we’re done?”

I scrambled to my knees on the mattress, reaching for him. “What? No.”

“No?” He held onto my elbows as I curled my fingers into his shirt at his shoulders.

“No. We’re not done.”

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