Page 11 of Sweet Boys Love Christmas
“What movie do you want to watch?” he asks, shifting back and widening his long legs.
The couch is small, closer to love seat size, yet he miraculously manages to leave inches of space between us.
I both hate and love that space.
Love it, because he’s respecting my wishes.
Hate it, because dammit, I really want him to breach that line.
“I planned to watch something I never have before, but honestly”—I pick up the remote from the coffee table—“I’m notfeeling it. I think I’m in the mood forHome Alone. Is that good with you?”
“Absolutely. It’s a masterpiece.” He takes a bite of pizza and groans, his eyes closing for a moment. “Still can’t figure out how you forget your kid at home.” He turns slowly in my direction, blinking. “Please tell me your parents never forgot you at home.”
“Probably a time or two,” I answer honestly. “But I always had nannies, so their asses were covered.”
He lowers his head and gives it a shake. “That’s terrible.”
“Yeah, I know. I think…” I twist my lips back and forth, considering whether I want to voice this out loud. “I don’t think they wanted kids, but my grandparents wanted the legacy to be carried on, so ta-da, there’s me. Except I’m not a man, and even if my future spouse would take my last name, I don’t think I would want them to. It feels more like a curse than a blessing.”
“What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?” I scroll through my movies, looking forHome Alonein the recently watched category.
“Being a Carthwright.”
A heavy sigh filters out of me. “In one word? Exhausting.”
He’s still watching me, as if that isn’t enough of an answer.
“Don’t get me wrong. It comes with a lot of privileges,” I say, focused on the plate of pizza in my lap. “Shopping sprees, the fanciest restaurants, and opportunities galore. But it also comes with a lot of pressure. When people know who you are, they’re always watching and inevitably waiting for you to fuck up. The pressure to be perfect is intense. I went to the best private school and had the smartest tutors and anything I could want, but…”
“But?” He probes, ducking a little closer.
“But I was lonely.” I shrug, pressing the button on the remote to start the movie. “As a little kid, I wished more than once that I had a different family. I was spoiled, sure. Any toy I showedeven mild interest in appeared in my room, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I just… wanted my mom and dad.”
He’s quiet for a moment, a slice of pizza hanging limply in his hand. “I’m sorry it was like that for you.”
I shrug, lips pressed together. “At least I turned out okay.”
With the movie playing, conversation ceases, and we dig into our dinner in earnest. When we’ve both had our fill, Luke rinses the plates in the sink. My core clenches at the sight of him stooped over the sink scrubbing. Am I crazy for not pursuing a relationship with him? He’s gorgeous, and he’s a talented hockey player. Not to mention he’s smart and kind.
No. I’m not crazy. I just need more time. I was with Tommy for so long, and I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be an individual.
I don’tlikebeing alone, but it’s important for my growth.
Luke returns to the couch, and when I tug the throw blanket off the back and spread it out, he happily accepts one half of it, though he doesn’t speak. I like that he doesn’t push conversation. He’s just… there. And it’s comfortable. The silence between us.
I didn’t have that with Tommy.
When things got quiet, I always felt like I needed to chatter to avoid the awkwardness that would settle in.
“Do you want to watch another movie?” I ask whenHome Alonefinishes. “Do you need to be somewhere?”
He shakes his head. “I have time.”
With a small smile, I pass him the remote. “You pick this time.”
His hand brushes mine as he takes it, and another spark courses up my arm.
