Page 75 of Holly Jolly July

His wife left him. Two days before

Christmas, three years ago. On the night

of the Small Business Association party.

One second they were planning their family,

and the next, she was gone. He hasn’t

been the same since.

Chapter 13

Ellie

This morning while Mariah got ready, I made us breakfast, brewing a big pot of coffee while whipping up some eggs and toast. Mariah comes out of the bathroom looking stunningly gorgeous as she always does, her hair defying gravity in its intricate teal swoops and curls, makeup done to perfection, and smelling like shea moisturizer. After we eat breakfast together I have a quick shower, careful not to get my hair wet, and we carpool into town.

I’m tired from staying up too late last night, but I have zero regrets. Something happened between us, something I can’t put into words, or even sort in my own mind, but it’s different. At least, I think so. I could have sworn she’d wanted to kiss me.

I’ve had feelings like this before. It’s an odd tickle in the back of my mind, like an itch you ignore long enough that it eventually goes away. But last night it wouldn’t subside. I’d had a hard time letting my thoughts of Mariah go, tossing and turning while imagining her out on the sofa with those beautiful plump lips of hers parted as she slept.

When I thought I’d finally found escape by slipping unconscious, I was only met with horny dreams of Mariah and myself dancing together in explicit TikToks.

I woke even more perturbed than when I fell asleep. The itch in the back of my mind had spread to somewhere deep inside my core, stronger than it’s ever been before.

Only this time, I’m not sure if I want those feelings to fade.

With Mariah focused on driving, I let my eyes linger on her profile. I’d always noticed how beautiful she is; how could anyone not? I’ve looked at her a hundred times, but this time feels different, like I’m seeing her in a new way.

Can she tell I’m sitting in the car next to her, thinking about how the seat belt parts her breasts? Or about the way the morning light highlights the flecks of green in her eyes? Or how her lip-stain leaves no mark on the rim of her coffee cup and she could easily kiss me and no one would know?

I squirm in my seat and look out the passenger window, trying to focus on something else. But even the mountains, backlit in gold and pink with a glorious sunrise, can’t distract me from how close she is, from how much I want to be closer to her.

We go all the way into work with neither of us speaking. For the first time, I don’t know what to say. I feel like saying anything might break the fragile... whatever it is between us, and all I want to do is bask in it.

Mariah begins my makeup routine as she always does, spreading a cool, clear goop onto my skin. Her touch is different though, slower, softer, more methodical. She lingers on the hump of my nose, a nearly imperceptible smile meeting her lips. She massages it into my cheeks. She swipes delicately over my cheekbones. The brushstrokes of foundation are carefully applied with smooth, firm strokes, and I find myself missing the touch of her fingers.

“Close,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes meeting mine.

I oblige, allowing my lids to fall shut as she works with delicate care. With my eyes closed I can imagine her doing anything, like bringing her lips to mine. My pulse quickens at the thought, and it takes all my effort to stay still.

I should be thinking about my lines, not about Mariah’s touch. I need to focus on filming my scenes, not on how good Mariah smells. I have to get my head in the game, but all I want is to explore this new feeling with her.

She’s finished my makeup too quickly and steps back, leaving me bereft. I look in the mirror at a faded version of myselfand feel self-conscious next to Mariah and her vibrancy, with her rosy cheeks, bright red lips, and turquoise hair.

“Thanks,” I squeak as I get up.

“You okay? This is the least you’ve spoken since we’ve met,” Mariah says, repeating what I said to her last night in a different way.

I nod. “Yeah, just tired. And nervous, I guess.”

She reaches out and squeezes my arm. “You’re gonna rock it.” Her hand stays there for exactly seven seconds—five seconds longer than necessary—and I’m craving more.

“Ellie, we need you in costume,” Jimmie’s voice calls from somewhere in the crowd, which I’d completely forgotten exists, as if Mariah and I created a tiny vacuum-sealed bubble around us.

“See you later,” I tell Mariah, breaking away from her spell.

Once I’m away from her I can breathe again and focus on the day, going over my lines, the blocking, the storyline, and get into character. After I’m dressed, I make my way down to the set, where several extras are waiting. Walking past the blue fencing and into a winter wonderland would normally send a bolt of excitement through me, but today it barely garners a smile. I wait in the coffee shop and listen as Yueyi goes over everything with the gaffer and grip.

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