Page 111 of Holly Jolly July

Mariah huffs. “I don’t thinkcoolis the right word, but go on.”

“I applied for it but didn’t get chosen, since you can only have so many clarinet players. I got my second choice, trombone—I only picked trombone because my favourite character inDonkey Kong 64played it. Anyway, so I’m in the back of the band room behind the French horns and in front of the eager beaver playing the cymbals, and I’m thinking,wow, this sucks, but lo and behold, guess who was also chosen to play trombone?”

I pause for dramatic effect and Mariah plays into it, holding her breath cartoonishly.

“James Tyler.”

She slaps a hand on her knee. “I knew it.”

I giggle, then continue. “I flirted with him all through first semester, but he wasn’t getting the hint that I liked him, and at the time I didn’t know girls could ask boys out, right? Plus, I was a dorky little teen, all elbows and knees, bushy blond hair I hadn’t figured out how to style, with braces and acne on top of it all. Meanwhile, he was on the volleyball team and drove a moped.”

Mariah snorts a laugh.

“So then there’s going to be this school play, right?” I say, getting more and more animated as I talk. “If he was Romeo and I was Juliet then he’d have to kiss me in front of the whole school, and then we’d fall madly in love and he’d be my boyfriend. I convinced him to audition and he got the role, because of course he did, only like two guys auditioned. But guess who was cast as Juliet?”

Once again, Mariah pretends to be fascinated, though she’s trying not to laugh.

“Ashleigh friggen Blake. She was gorgeous, like, I could never even manage to say two words around her because she made me so nervous. But she could barely remember her lines, and the lines she did remember you could hardly hear. I had to watch Ashleigh and James kiss in rehearsals over and over and over again from backstage, dressed up like a boy with a fake moustache. Worst part is my plan actually worked. Ashleigh and James kissed in front of the whole school, and they fell in love, and they went to junior prom together, and dated for like two and a half years.”

Mariah places her hand on my thigh and gives it a squeeze, her expression turned from amused to serious, lips twisting into an apologetic frown.

“Anyway. It wasn’t the first time I was picked over. And it won’t be the last. I got used to disappointment quickly.” I frown, recalling all the jobs since then, how I’ve auditioned to be the lead in every single one of them and have always been chosen to play someone else. Even my personal life mirrors my professional one, with all my attempts at relationships falling flat, someone else always being chosen over me.

Always the supporting character, never the lead.

I look up from the thread I’ve been pulling on my sweater to meet Mariah’s gaze, cringing at how pitifully she’s looking at me. Sitting up taller, I give my head a shake and force a smile to my face. “But, hey, I’m here now! Look at me! I’m a real actress and I’ve been in several movies and I’m here in Chilliwack working on a new Christmas movie, and I love Christmas movies, and everything worked out, and—”

Mariah interrupts again, gently squeezing my leg. “You know, it’s okay.”

I hesitate. “What?”

“It’s okay to be... sad?”

I blink several times. “I’m not sad. I’m happy! I wouldn’t change a thing. Butterfly effect and all. If I did, maybe I wouldn’t be here right now, with you.”

Her frown morphs slowly into a smile. “That’s really sweet.”

I turn a bit on the couch so I can face her, taking her hands in mine, and lower my voice. “I’m serious. I didn’t think I’d ever make a...” I pause, searching for the right word and coming up empty. “Friend like you.”

“Friend?”Mariah tries to slip her hands out of my grasp, but I tug her closer, bringing her lips to mine. She sighs into the embrace, her lips and tongue greeting mine in a slow dance. I feel lightheaded as she kisses me, like I’m starved for oxygen and she’s the source.

The couch is too small, and after a few bumbling moments of trying to make it work, Mariah grabs the throw blanket and pillows to make a love nest on the floor while I switch off my play, opting for quiet Christmas jazz instrumentals on my phone.

The twinkling red and green lights dance upon her porcelain skin, and the smell of her delicate lotion mixes with the woody pine, synthesizing into my new favourite aroma. Quiet notes of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” whirl through the air, perfecting the ambiance. The sight of Mariah waiting for my touch as her doe-eyed gaze beckons me closer is the best gift I’ve ever seen beneath a tree. I take a slow, deliberate breath of gratitude toward the universe for this moment, for bringing Mariah into my life.

We take turns between kissing and removing clothes until we’re naked, our legs intertwined, side by side, chests pressed flush, greedy for more.

Pulling her closer, I let my hands make their way up her arms to her shoulders, caressing the line of her jaw, the hollow of her throat, down her neck and back to her shoulders again. I linger in all the places I want, in no hurry to move any faster, enjoying the simple act of her lips on mine. I slowly make my way lower, where I trace circles over her breasts, tantalizing her nipples, and she arches into me until I give her breasts a gentle squeeze.

Mariah’s hands are exploring me, lingering on so many placesI’d never before considered to be erotic: the lobes of my ears, my clavicle, down the centre of my chest. Tingles rush from her touch like sparklers on Canada Day, blazing along my skin and meeting in my centre where they pool, gathering heat.

She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts my heart. Her pale skin is flushed, mouth red and plump from kissing. It makes me ache deep down in my belly. I roll on top of her, pressing my body to hers, and shift my leg up between her thighs. Rolling my hips against hers, I watch as her lips part and her head tilts back, gasping at the friction. I feel her against my thigh, so plump and wet and ready, and am torn between moving down her body to kiss between her legs and staying up here with her, kissing her mouth.

I moan in slight frustration, wishing I could be both places at once. “You know, I’ve never wanted a cock before now, but I can see the appeal.”

“Mmmm,” she groans, biting her bottom lip. “You in a strap-on would be so hot.”

I freeze. “We could do that?”

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