Page 37 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
He mutters something under his breath, low and dangerous, but the pink dusting his ears totally betrays him.
I swallow my bite, licking sugar from my thumb as I lean across the table. “Careful, Calder. Keep this up, and people are gonna think you’re boyfriend sweet. And by people, I mean me.”
His jaw flexes, and for a second—just a second—I swear his eyes soften. But then the shutters slam down, that glower sharpening into something meant to cut.
“We’re not that,” he says flatly. “Don’t start thinking we are. It’s not more than what it is.”
The words hit hard, knocking some of the sparkle out of the air. I force a smile anyway, bright and careless, because I refuse to let him see it sting. “Relax, Grinch. I was joking. I know it was just fucking. I’ve had fuck buddies before.”
I sip my mocha to cover the twist in my chest, the sweetness grounding me. Fine. He doesn’t want labels. Doesn’t want more. I can live with that.
For now.
Because here’s the thing—I’ve wanted Max Calder for months. And now that I’ve had him, now that I know what his mouth tastes like when he’s smiling into a kiss, what sound he makes when I touch him just right, or the moan that leaves his lips when he comes—I’m not going to waste what time I do get drowning in what-ifs.
He says it’s temporary? Then I’ll make temporary unforgettable.
I lean back in my chair, a smirk curling my lips as I break off another piece of pastry and flick a crumb at him. “And you’re right. We’re not more than that. You’re way too grumpy to be anyone’s boyfriend anyway.”
He snorts, shaking his head, and just like that, the heaviness eases. Because if he wants to pretend this is only passing time, fine. I’ll be the one who makes every second of it count.
FOURTEEN
MAX
The air stingsand feels colder than before, sharp against my lungs, but it’s nothing compared to the quiet buzzing in my chest. Eli didn’t flinch when I told him we’re just…this. He smiled, threw crumbs at me,agreed with me,and let it slide off as though I hadn’t just drawn a line in the snow between us.
And that should make it easier. Cleaner. Except it doesn’t. It gnaws at me. Because he looked fine. Too fine. Like he’s already decided he can live with it, and meanwhile, I can’t stop replaying the way he laughed at me across the table, as if I was someone worth smiling at.
I’m stuck on that thought when something cold and wet explodes against the side of my coat.
I stop dead, blinking down at the splatter of snow sliding off my sleeve. Slowly, I lift my head.
Eli is grinning at me from a few feet back, hands already scooping another pile together. His cheeks are red, his eyes alight, and he’s got that little shit-eating smirk that should be illegal pulling at his lips.
“You did not just?—”
The second snowball nails me in the chest.
“Think fast, Calder!” he crows, already darting sideways. His laughter rings out around us, making me warm even in the cold.
I lunge into the snowbank and come up with a handful, compacting it into a sloppy ball and hurling it at him. He shrieks when it bursts across his shoulder, laughing so hard he nearly falls into the drift.
And that’s all it takes. Game on.
The walk back turns into a battlefield, our laughter echoing down the empty street as snowballs fly. He’s quick, darting just out of reach, taunting me with every throw. I finally get close enough to grab him around the waist, tackling him into the powder.
We crash into a snow pile, both of us breathless and wheezing laughter, and my gloves clumsy as I pin him, but somehow still lose the upper hand. He twists, slippery as hell, and suddenly I’m the one flat on my back with him straddling me, snow sticking to my hair and coat.
He’s flushed, panting, grinning down at me as though he’s already won. And then he leans down and kisses me.
The cold disappears. The world disappears. There’s only the taste of him, warm and alive and impossible, and the way his smile presses against my mouth like he’s been waiting for this exact moment all along is everything.
His mouth is hot against mine, a shocking contrast to the ice melting down the back of my neck. I grab his hips without thinking, fingers tightening through the layers of his coat to anchor him to me. He laughs into the kiss, the sound bubbling against my lips, and then he kisses me harder.
I should roll us over. Take control. But he’s already braced on my chest, snowflakes clinging to his lashes, grinning from ear to ear as though he has me exactly where he wants me. Which—fuck—it turns out he does.
I open for him, and he doesn’t hesitate. His tongue slides against mine, sweet and demanding all at once, and I groan into it before I can stop myself. The sound makes him shiver, or maybe that’s the cold seeping into our clothes, though I’d bet it’s both.
