Page 93 of Switch Pitching

Ethan snorts, which starts a chain reaction of laughter from everyone in the room, except me.

“I’m glad you’re all having fun at my expense,” I mutter to Ethan, smiling to let him know I’m not serious.

“I like this. They keep you on your toes,” teases Ethan, poking me.

We leave our bags in my room and head back downstairs where everyone’s settled into the living room to catch the last hockey game before the Christmas break.

“How much do you know about hockey?” I ask Ethan, nudging him and glancing at the TV.

“Not much,” he admits.

Mom swivels her head to face us. “That needs to change!”

Ethan chuckles and we sit down on a loveseat just in time for the puck drop. It’s a tight fit, but Ethan and I have been closer. Even so, I’m sure it looks almost comical because Sofia snickers at us once she joins the watch party. I don’t care. I’m home for the holidays, I’m eating more cookies than I should an hour before dinner, and Ethan’s right next to me. Life can’t get better than this.

Christmas Eve comes, and my parents revel in making Ethan try every family recipe. He doesn’t mind, though, which endearshim to them even more. Sofia tells Ethan all the cringy things I did as a kid, which is embarrassing enough, but then she adds Ethan on Instagram and makes him promise to update her with so-called noteworthy things that I do as anadult.

To my horror, he agrees and winks at me, and I groan.

The entire family somehow finds my despair to be hilarious, and that kick-starts our night. The next thing I know, I’m waking up next to Ethan in my childhood bedroom, my arm slung over his shoulders and breathing into his hair.

“Ethan! It’s Christmas!” I whisper, waking him up.

“Morning,” he says, his eyes hooded with sleep. It’s been six months since coming to terms with being bi, and I still can’t get over how freaking adorable Ethan is when he’s sleepy. I want to cuddle him forever. Not today, though, because we have other things to do.

“Let’s exchange a present now, when it’s just the two of us,” I suggest.

Ethan’s eyebrows shoot up. “What, did you get me something you don’t want your family to see? Like a dildo?”

I stifle a laugh to avoid waking up the entire house, and I choose to punch Ethan’s chest instead, my fist making an audible thwack against his hard pec. “Such a dirty mind, Ethan. Besides, if I got you a dildo, I’d just include it with the rest of my gifts to you.”

That probably wasn’t the best joke to make because Ethan wrestles me and makes me promise to never make him unwrap a sex toy in front of anyone, ever. I squirm out of his grasp and roll onto the floor, ending up next to my bag. As a peace offering, I choose a present, then meet Ethan back on the bed. Still chucking, Ethan reaches down and grabs an impeccably wrapped gift.

“You go first,” he prompts, gesturing at the soft, paper-covered mound in front of me.

“Nah, we should go at the same time.”

Ethan agrees, and I gently tear open his gift to me and slip the contents out of the paper.

My face freezes.

It’s a sweater. A super fucking gorgeous sweater. It’s an amazing shade of ocean blue, the same color as the sea off the coast of Ethan’s hometown.

And it’s almost identical to the one that I got for him. Other than the color, it’s the exact same, down to the pattern, the zipper, and the collar.

Ethan and I take in each other’s gifts and then burst into laughter.

“Holy shit,” Ethan sputters. “I bought you that inMaine. Where’d you get mine?”

“Here! In Toronto! Why are they the same?”

Ethan glances up at me, grinning and with tears of laughter that make his eyes shiny. “Wear it, I want to see how you look.”

I do, and Ethan slips his sweater on at the same time. He takes me by the wrist and guides me to the mirror outside my closet.

We’re matching. Big-time.

“I’m you, but wearing green,” mutters Ethan, suppressing a giggle.

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