Page 49 of Hostile for the Holidays

In the living room, Jasper introduces me to his aunt and uncle, his cousins and their spouses. Jasper’s parents, Julie and James, give me a hug, as well as his younger sister, Juniper.

“I love your sweater,” Juniper says. “You’ve always had great style.”

“Thank you.” I blush, because even though I know I have good taste, another woman acknowledging it is always nice to hear. “I love your dress.”

“Thanks. I got it after I saw it on your Instagram.”

“Well, it looks better on you.”

Jasper’s cousin, Jana, joins our conversation. “So glad you could make it, Stella. We’ve all heard so much about you.”

“You’ve heard about me?” I ask, a bit shocked that Jasper would be giving so many details to his family about his fake girlfriend.

“Jasper doesn’t stop talking about you. He told us all about your day at Toys for Tiny Hearts.”

“I hope he didn’t tell you everything.” I laugh nervously.

Jasper wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in close to whisper in my ear. “I can still taste you on my tongue.”

“Stella, I might need your services in the next few days,” his mom says, smiling at me.

I try to block out Jasper’s words, but it’s impossible, so now I’m fighting through the awkwardness of my panties being wet while his mom talks to me about gift wrap.

“Of course, I’d love to help.” And I mean it, not just because I like gift-wrapping but because I suddenly have the warmest feeling in my chest and I want to keep it there.

“What about me?” Jasper protests. “I offered to help wrap gifts.”

“You’ll be my backup wrapper. In case Stella’s hands fall off,” his mom teases.

Jasper’s lips push out in a mock-pout.

“Aww, it’s okay. We can’t all be all-star wrappers,” I tease, throwing my arms around his neck to comfort him.

“Thanks, baby.” His voice is low, as if my words were truly comforting.

We stare at each other a moment, then the oddest thing happens. Jasper kisses me and it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It’s a soft peck on the lips. G-rated, very family-friendly. But the way my body responds is viewer discretion advised. Dirty thoughts and likely to contain nudity.

Still in Jasper’s arms, he turns to the group.

“Now, everyone, I’ll warn you Stella is excellent at this game.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“You know you’re a good artist.” He drops his gaze to mine and winks. “You always have been.” Like how a smell or hearing a song that’s tied to a memory causes it to surface, in an instant, Jasper’s comment transports me back to the seventh-grade winter art fair.

Students submitted work to be purchased by donation that benefitted the food pantry. It was pretty much parents buying their kids’ artwork to raise the money but it made us feel like we were contributing. I had spent hours on a winter wonderland drawing. At the time, it had been my best work and while I would be proud to show it off to the community and help raise money for the food pantry, I loved it so much I was having second thoughts about entering it.

But in the end, I wanted to help with the cause, so I submitted it to the charity art fair.

Jasper bought it.

And the next day at school, he told me with the smuggest smile on his face that he had ripped it up.

I’d fought to throw some snarky comeback at him, about how it didn’t matter, or that he wasted his money, but the truth was, I’d put so much effort into that drawing, it broke my heart to know it was destroyed.

For the longest time I wasn’t convinced that the fifty dollars he spent on it, that benefitted the food pantry, was worth the heartbreak of that experience. I’d have cracked open my piggy bank and made the donation myself to keep my art.

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