Page 81 of Host for the Holidays
“I’m free as a bird until Christmas break ends.”
I smile, unable to stop my relief and the anticipation of spending another day with him. Don’t get me wrong, kissing Rémy blew my mind. But I genuinely enjoy being with him even without being liplocked.
“There’s just one thing,” he says.
“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”
He wets his lips, and immediately my shoulder devil is whispering in my ear that maybe the one thing is that we need to kiss again just to, you know, get it entirely out of our systems.
“I think we might need to set some boundaries,” he says with a little hesitation.
Poof, shoulder devil.
“Oh,” I say. “Yeah, totally. For sure. Yep. Boundaries.”
“Just a few lines to help us . . .”
“Stay in the lines.” I’m so eloquent.
“Yeah.”
“Smart,” I say even as I see Siena wielding a giant eraser and watching us with an evil smile. “What sort of lines are you thinking?”
He taps a finger on the table. “Well, for one, no kissing.”
I nod. That’s an obvious one. And yet also somehow still disappointing to hear him say.
“Hugging should probably be a line.”
I nod again. I feel like I should contribute something. “No holding hands? I feel like that might have been where this all started for me.”
“It started before that for me, but yeah . . .”
That sends a jolt through me.It.I want so badly to follow up on that word, to know what exactly he means byit. And how longithas been going on.
“I guess that means no metro and no elevators today,” he says.
“I don’t know. I’m getting better.” Or maybe I’m not. Maybe without Rémy’s hand, without his lips on mine, I’ll be back to square one. “It’s silly, I know. You’d think I’d have grown out of needing to hold someone’s hand when I’m scared.”
“Do peopleevergrow out of that? I think we all just figure out how to pretend we don’t want a hand to hold.”
I meet his gaze, unsure how to respond to that. Josh teased me a lot for the whole hand-holding thing. It wasn’t rude teasing, but it still made me feel childish. But what Rémy is saying . . . it makes sense.
“Maybe you’re right. I don’t remember much about my dad dying except for being in the hospital a lot and holding his hand whenever I was there. And then when my mom broke the news to us that he was gone, she held my and my brother’s hands. I guess it became a thing for me.”
Rémy’s mouth is turned down at the sides, his face thoughtful as he looks at me. “If you need my hand, Madi, you can hold it, okay? We’re friends.” He meets my gaze to ensure I know he means it.
“Thank you.” Even as I say it, I know I can’t do it. Rémy may be able to hold the line while also holding my hand. I don’t think I can. I’m not ambidextrous, people. “Any other lines?”
“Yeah,” he says, relaxing a bit and sitting back with his arms crossed. “No laughing.”
I raise my brows.
His mouth curls up at the side. “Your laugh is . . . well, it just makes it harder for me. So if you could just, you know,not.” He tries to control his amusement by pulling his lips between his teeth. Then he wets his lips again.
“That.” I point to his lips. “That’s a line.”
He stops mid lip-rubbing. “Um, okay. I’ll . . . do what I can.”
