Page 32 of Holiday Star
A burst of sunlight slants in through the window and lands like a spotlight on Caleb, burnishing his golden hair, still mussed from sleep. He crosses one white-socked foot absently over the other.
It’s the stupid socks that undo me. White ankle socks like a kid wears. There’s something so simple and sweet about them. I wish I could take this moment and hold it forever. Lock it away in a room in my heart and keep the key only for myself.
Caleb must feel the weight of my gaze on him. He looks up and sees me standing frozen. I don’t know what I look like, but something on my face makes his eyes narrow suspiciously. “What?”
“Nothing.” I can’t catch my breath. My traitorous heart has forgotten how to beat. It’s terrifying and humiliating. I hate it, the riot of my emotions right now, so I turn and flee upstairs.
Away from my feelings and away from him.
18
Iavoid Caleb for the rest of the day, which isn’t easy because I’m constantly walking through the living room.
“I’m going for a jog at the park,” I tell him as I grab my sneakers from where they sit by the couch.
Caleb waves absently. “Have fun.”
“Taking a swim,” I sing out when I walk past to the backyard, making sure that my coverup is wrapped tightly around me, hiding my bathing suit.
Caleb looks up and nods slowly.
“Meeting Jenny to do some Christmas shopping.” I pull my jacket off its hanger in the coat closet.
Caleb purses his lips, his eyes sharp.
“We’re out of milk. I’ll go pick some up.” I almost make it out the door.
Almost.
“Gwen,” Caleb says my name for the fifth time, firmly.
I stop, drop my hand from the doorknob, and slowly turn around to face him. “Yes?”
“What’s going on?” He puts his notebook facedown next to him and frowns at me, gaze heavy with suspicion.
“What do you mean?” I widen my eyes, full of feigned innocence.
Caleb stalks over to me, his shoulders set and jaw tight. Once he’s right in front of me, inches away, he stops. His scent, cinnamon spice, follows him.
His eyes, more blue than the sky out of the window, drill into mine. It takes everything in me to hold still under that gaze. To not squirm or run out the door.
“You’re acting weird,” he says finally.
“Me?” I put my hand to my chest. “I’m not acting weird. You’re acting weird.”
Did I just say that? What am I? A nine-year-old?
Caleb searches my face, concern etching his features. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
Yeah. I realized that you are a man, and I am a woman, and that we could kiss.Why did I just think that? Now I’m thinking about kissing him. What would he taste like? I will myself not to look at his lips, which makes me look at his lips, which makes me lick my lips. Now he’s watching me lick my lips. And everything is just so overwhelming. And so hot. Why is it so hot in here? I’m panicking, because it’s so hot and I want to kiss him, so I say, “My research paper just got preliminary approval to be featured in theJournal of Emergency Medicine.”
Which is true. I got the letter confirming my acceptance this morning. As thrilled as I was that someone else thought my research was worthy, that feeling had been partially lost to my hyperawareness of Caleb today.
“Really?” He brightens. “That’s great. Congratulations.”
I laugh, mostly from relief that he doesn’t know I was thinking about kissing him, but also from his interested expression. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure they would take it, so I was excited when I got the news. This is just the first step. It still needs to pass through the final evaluation process, but I’m hopeful.”
“Can I ask, what’s your research about? Would I understand it?”
