Page 75 of Host for the Holidays
I don’t know. I’ve been asking myself the same question, honestly, but for different reasons.
We walk the market, eating raclette and crepes, people-watching and talking about life. We ride the merry-go-round and even slip on ice skates for a bit. Madi is frustratingly good, though, which means she never falls into me or needs me to hold her hand as she wobbles around like a newborn deer. But both of us are laughing enough by the time our turn is over that my cheeks ache, so I forgive her skill.
On the walk home, she asks if she can slip into a shop on Rue de Rivoli.
“Do you wanna come in?” she asks.
“What, and risk someone I know seeing me? In a souvenir shop?”
“Riiiight. Your Parisian street cred.”
“It’s really fragile at the moment. I’ll just head into the shop next door and get us some hot cocoa.”
Her eyes light up. “Perfect. I’ll be quick.”
Madi is as good as her word, and she emerges just a few minutes later with a plastic sack partially concealed in her camera bag. I hand her a cup of cocoa, and we make the walk back to the apartment, tired but satisfied after a long, full day. The hot chocolate warms us as the temperature continues to drop.
We toss our empty cups in the bin just outside the building. When we get inside, Madi chooses the elevator over the stairs again. Given how close we were last night, and given howbeingthat close affected me, I’m tempted to tell her I’m going to take the stairs. But I’m not gonna leave Madi to go up in the elevator alone. I’m not heartless.
“Whoareyou anymore?” I tease, trying to take my mind off how close I’m going to be to her in a minute. Or three minutes, based on how long it takes the elevator to come down.
“I’m a new woman,” Madi says, putting out her arms and doing a little twirl. “But actually, my thighs are just really sore.”
“Mine too. I was secretly hoping you’d choose the elevator.”
She laughs softly, then her eyes grow more sincere. “Thank you for today. I really needed this.”
I nod, unsure whether to focus on her thanks or why she needed it. Is it because she’s hurting inside over Josh?
“It’s not your job as my host to do the things that you’ve done for me.”
“It’s not your job as my guest to do the thingsyou’vedone forme.”
She shakes her head. “That’s nothing. It’s been a pleasure for me to help.”
“Same here.”
She holds my gaze, and I’m simultaneously willing her to take my meaning fully and not to read into it because I have no idea what Madi wants from me. Not a clue. Am I a good but temporary friend she’ll forget as quickly as she forgets the address of this apartment? Am I her distraction to drown out the heartache she’s hiding? And how much does it matter to me as long as I get to spend more time with her?
The way she’s looking at me now tells me there’ssomethingthere. I just wish I knew what it was.
The elevator bell dings, and the doors open.
She waits for me to step in first, which I do, shutting my eyes once I’m inside and taking a breath to ground myself as I feel the subtle bounce of the elevator when she steps in behind me. And even though it would be in the best interest of us both for me to stay facing the back wall of the elevator, it would also be incredibly weird, so I turn back toward her.
Her eyes are on me, curious and almost shy, and the smile that’s such a fixture on her face is absent in a way that makes my heart pound. The doors close behind her, cutting us off from everything but each other.
I don’t know what Madi’s thinking, but I have a history of seeing what I want to see, and since there’s quite literally nothingtosee in this tiny space but her, I sense myself in serious trouble.
“I’m just gonna”—I lean forward to reach for the button that saysfour, anxious to be moving because I don’t know how to be this close to Madi without wanting to do things I shouldn’t do. But reaching for the button brings me closer than ever, and as I force myself to focus on that faded four and press it firmly, I can see Madi looking up at me from the corner of my eye.
I’m weak—so weak—and I look down at her. I see it there again in her eyes, that something that tells me I’m not the only one feeling something.
The elevator starts its climb upward, which means I have no reason to be this close anymore. But Madi’s a magnet, and now that we’re this close, I don’t know how to pull away from her.
I haven’t lost my reason entirely, though—not yet, at least—and I know it’s not a good look to trap a girl in a small elevator and push myself onto her, so I shut my eyes, hoping that will break the connection, then I pull back.
A hand on my elbow stops me. My eyes fly open. Madi’s looking at me, and before I can decide just what she’s thinking, her hand pulls my arm gently toward her.
