Page 123 of The Revenge Game
When I glance up, Drew’s watching me with an expression I can’t read. Before I can try to decipher it, he clears his throat.
“Right, I believe the tradition is to watch a terrible Christmas movie now, right?”
I have to swallow the lump in my throat. “Yep, I believe that’s the tradition.”
We settle into our usual positions on the couch, Drew tucked against my side. Tabitha claims her throne on Drew’s lap while Cassie drapes herself across the back of the couch like a judgmental garland.
We finally settle onDie Hardto gather evidence for Pete’s ongoing crusade to prove it’s a Christmas movie. The familiar action sequences play out while we trade commentary about the improbability of crawling through ventilation shafts in a dress shirt.
Somewhere between explosions, Drew starts absent-mindedly playing with my fingers where our hands are joined, tracing patterns like he’s typing out secret code against my skin. His crown is slightly askew and the Christmas lights reflecting off his glasses create tiny constellations that shift every time he moves.
Drew catches me looking and squeezes my hand.
And that’s when it hits me, while I’m watching Bruce Willis battle terrorists and holding Drew’s hand, my cats treating him like he’s always been part of their kingdom.
I love him.
The realization settles into place inside me like there’s always been a space for it.
I love him, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world, like my heart has known this truth for ages and was just waiting for my brain to catch up.
I’m in love with Drew Smith, who makes terrible jokes, sorts M&Ms by color, and knows me more thoroughly than anyone ever has. Who fixes more than just the technology in my life.
So much more.
“Justin?” Drew’s voice breaks through my revelation. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I manage. “Just…really happy you’re here.”
His smile is soft but slightly uncertain.
So I lean over and press my lips to his.
For the first time in my life, Christmas feels exactly right.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Andrew
I don’t know how I’m going to give this up.
That realization lands inside me somewhere between McClane crawling through broken glass and Holly punching that sleazy reporter.
I wanted to give Justin one last magical day together. I wanted to give him his replacement snow globe and help him with his proper British Christmas lunch. I wanted to memorize exactly how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he gets excited about properly crisped roast potatoes.
But I got more than I bargained for.
It’s like everything that has happened between Justin and me so far has been crystalized in this one perfect day.
It’s trading sweet kisses that aren’t designed to lead anywhere. It’s the way he keeps adjusting my paper crown when it slips. It’s how he keeps catching my eye and breaking into soft, private smiles.
Even when I was back in high school, I never craved not to be myself like I do now.
I don’t want to be Andrew Yates, the tech multi-millionaire. I want to be Drew Smith, a simple IT help desk technician.
I would trade all the money in my bank account if I could make the switch.
And that thought corrupts everything I thought I knew about success and happiness.
