Page 48 of Hostile for the Holidays

You don’t owe me anything.

Fine. But what if I want to give you something?

…

The three dots come and go, twice, then disappear altogether. I wait a minute in case there’s a delay but sure enough…nothing.

Did he just leave me on read?

An inkling of a feeling is starting to fester inside me.

Was today part of some elaborate hoax? Give me an incredible orgasm to throw me off track, decorate my parents’ house, then ghost me? The adult in me wants to say fuck it, who cares? His loss and move on. But younger me, whose been on the defensive with Jasper for decades, is compelled to action.

Before I have time to think, I’m out of my chair and marching across the snow-packed street. With every crunch of the snow beneath my boots, my fury grows. Ten seconds later I’m pounding on his front door.

“Stella!” His mom, Julie, answers with a huge smile. “What a lovely surprise. I didn’t know we were expecting you.”

I don’t have time for pleasantries, I need answers.

“Yeah, hi.” I stuff my hands in my coat pockets. “I need to talk to Jasper.”

“Of course. Come in. I’ll grab him for you.” She waves me in and the smell of gingerbread cookies envelopes me like a hug.

My mouth immediately waters.

Then, I hear it. Michael Bublé crooning “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.”

The fireplace is roaring and their living room looks like it’s straight out of a holiday décor catalog. Greenery wrapped around the banister and over the fireplace mantel. Not only the large tree in the front window, but a smaller tree I can see on the landing up the stairs. It’s a tasteful explosion of plaid, red and cream. There’s more holiday décor in this ten-square-foot sitting area than there is in my entire house.

“Hey.” Jasper appears in the doorway. He’s in the same clothes from earlier today. The sweater and jeans he was wearing when he licked my pussy, except now he’s got a pair of brown loafer style slippers on his feet instead of boots. I don’t know why that feels odd to me. Like I expected him to change? Because I didn’t change my clothes. My underwear is still wet, or it might be wet again from the sight of his tousled hair and charming smile. Or maybe the memory of him on his knees in that green sweater is making me forget why I’m even here.

“You didn’t respond to my text.” My words come out sharp.

“I’m sorry. It was my turn to draw for Pictionary so I had to put my phone down.”

“Pictionary?” I ask.

“Yeah, we’re playing the holiday version.”

Of course, Jasper and his family are having a game night. It’s almost like he lured me here to rub it in my face. Except he didn’t invite me, I just showed up.

“Okay, well thanks for the lights.” I turn to leave because I suddenly feel out of place. Not sure what Jasper and I are doing. What the parameters are for our fake dating situation. Aware that if he wanted me to hang out with his family, he would have asked me.

“Do you want to play Pictionary with us?” he asks.

And I want to, desperately. But part of me had planned to stomp off across the street angry with him for having the Christmas experience with his family that I want.

I look longingly at the plate of gingerbread cookies on the console table. The cozy set up for an evening of old-fashioned family fun.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not. I want you here.” He rubs my shoulders soothingly. “I thought you had plans with your family, otherwise I would have asked you earlier.”

“Yeah?” These sweet confessions from Jasper are like bread crumbs that I’m eating up. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up deep in the dark forest unable to find my way out.

But fuck it, I really want to play holiday Pictionary.

“Okay.” I nod. “I’ll stay.”

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