Page 86 of Rare Blend
“The reason I was asking,” he continues. “Is because my mom wanted me to let you know you’re more than welcome tojoin us. And now that your mom is coming, obviously, she’s also welcome.”
Thanksgiving with the Ledgers. If my mom wasn’t coming, I would love to spend the holiday with them. Growing up, I always imagined what it would be like to spend the holidays in a big family. The chaos, the mess, the conversations. I used to be so envious of my friends who had lots of siblings. As I grew older, I became more appreciative of the quiet relaxation of my family’s holidays, but a small part of me always wondered.
People assume I have a large family because my mom is Mexican, but that isn’t the case. My mom left her family behind in Mexico when she was a teenager and never looked back. I used to ask questions about them when I was younger, wondering why all my friends had aunts and uncles and grandparents and I only had my dad’s one living parent, my Grandpa Johnny, who passed away when I was eight. Eventually, I gave up, because the questions never got me anywhere, and I was still left wondering what became of that part of my family.
“Thank you for the invite, but I think we’re going to keep it just us two. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her. I’m really wanting that alone time.”
He nods, understanding, and doesn’t press me any further. We resume the show, trying to get back to a comfortable place, but we never get there.
CHAPTER 32
Ethan
YOU TWO ARE SO DUMB
Ican’t keep doing this. The more time I spend with Marisa, the more intense my feelings get. I fooled myself into thinking her friendship was enough. It’s not enough, it’s so far from enough. Stopping at the kiss was supposed to protect me from getting hurt when she leaves, but this is an entirely different kind of pain. When I’m with her, all I want is to touch her, to feel her, and when we’re apart, I’m plagued with thoughts of her. She consumes me. She has fully infiltrated me and I’m past the point of ignoring it any further. Something has to be done. Either we put a stop to the dangerous game of toeing the line we’re playing, acting as if spending all of our free time together isn’t a relationship, or we finally give in and act on it. There’s also a major possibility that this is entirely one-sided on my part. Regardless, I’m at my breaking point.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I look up to find Elyse walking into my office. “Nothing, why?”
Her eyes narrow. She doesn’t believe me for a second. “Weird. Because I was standing here, staring at you for a good minute, and you were zoned out like a crazy person the entire time.”
“Just tired.” I try to lie, but even I can hear the lack of conviction behind my words.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain someone, would it? Maybe someone named Marisa?”
My expression must give it all away, because Elyse’s eyes light with excitement.
She walks closer and leans her hip against my desk. “Oh, you got it bad, huh?”
I look at her, trying to keep my face neutral, but Elyse sees everything. She’s like our mom.
“You are so down bad for her, it’s not even funny,” she continues.
I give up. There’s no use keeping this to myself. “And what if I am? It doesn’t mean anything. She’s leaving after the new year, anyway.”
She smiles, apparently enjoying my torture. “You don’t know that. Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. But wouldn’t it be nice if she had a reason, more than her dad, to stick around?”
“You have all the answers, don’t you?” I grit. “I doubt she sees me as anything more than a friend. She’s barely speaking to me.”
Ever since she brought up her mom coming to visit, she’s been noticeably distant. After that night, we haven’t had our usual hangout. It’s only been a few days, but enough for it to be obvious that I upset her.
“Interesting,” she muses. “I had lunch with her the other day.”
That catches my attention, and then I see it for what it was. She’s baiting me, and it worked.
“I’m not lying. We did have lunch. And you know what’s funny?”
I hate it when she’s like this. “What, Elle? What’s funny?”
She leans down, like she’s about to reveal a secret. “She looked just as zoned out and distracted as you.”
“I don’t know what that means. Can you stop fucking with me and spit it out already?”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. You’re no fun.” Laughing, she walks back toward the hall. “You two are so dumb. I mean, how much work does a girl have to do to get two people to realize they like each other? Those dates aligning with her interview and your meeting. It was kismet, like the universe plopped it in my lap and said, ‘Elyse, work your magic.’ The snow, well, that was Mother Nature, but I mean, come on. It’s so obvious there are feelings there. It’s like a game of ping-pong watching you two in a room, bouncing googly eyes back and forth.”
My face heats, images of our kiss replaying in my head. I think aboutthat kisstoo often. I think about it when I wake up. I think about it when I’m at work. I think about it when I’m with her. I think about it when the ache for her becomes unbearable and I have to take matters into my own hands, literally. The amount of times I’ve come to thoughts of Marisa is embarrassingly high. If she knew she was the star of every single one of my fantasies, she would run back to Seattle a lot sooner than after the new year.
