Page 91 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
“Hey,” he whispers, voice rough with sleep.
“Hey,” I murmur back.
For a few seconds, neither of us moves. It’s too perfect—too easy—to stay like this.
“Were you watching me sleep?” he asks, a slight smile tugging his lips up.
“Maybe.”
“That’s creepy, Calder.”
I drag a hand through his hair, catching his chin and forcing his gaze back up to mine. “You drool when you’re out cold. Thought you should know.”
He groans, buries his face in my chest, laughter muffled against my skin. “Great. You’re ruining the illusion that I’m charming all the time.”
“Pretty sure you lost that illusion the second you tried to talk in your sleep about peppermint cookies,” I say, smirking.
He freezes for half a second, then starts laughing harder, the sound vibrating against me. “Oh, I definitely dream about those.”
I tilt his face up with my hand, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. “You dream about me, too?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “Always.”
Something in my chest pulls tight and full, that dangerous kind of feeling that’s too close toloveto ignore anymore. I can’t say it—not yet—but I can let him see it. So I kiss his forehead, his temple, the corner of his mouth. Small, reverent things.
He sighs, his smile fading into something softer. “What time is it?”
“Early,” I whisper, glancing at the clock. “Your family’s probably still asleep.”
“Perfect.” He settles closer again, cheek pressed to my collarbone. “We’ve got the coast later. Mom said the weather’s supposed to be warm enough to actually sit on the sand. You ever seen the ocean, Calder?”
I shake my head. “Only lakes. Ice. Rinks.”
He props his chin on my chest, grinning at me as if I just confessed I’d never had sugar. “Then today’s gonna ruin you for anything else.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His hand finds mine again, fingers tangling like it’s second nature. “You’re gonna love it. I’ll make sure of it.”
And the thing is—I already know he will. Because if it’s with him, I’m probably doomed to love it all.
Eli shifts, slow and deliberate, until he’s hovering above me, sunlight sliding over his shoulder and catching in his hair. His fingers trace my jaw, then the edge of my mouth, as though he’s memorizing me.
“Morning looks good on you,” he murmurs.
“Yeah?” My voice comes out low and rough with emotion.
“Yeah.” His thumb sweeps over my lower lip. “You look soft.”
I almost laugh, but the sound catches somewhere in my throat when he leans in and kisses me—unhurried, like there’s no clock in the world that matters. His mouth moves against mine, and the quiet stretches around us, filled with nothing but the sound of our breathing.
It’s easy to fall into him. Easier than anything else I’ve ever done. Every time he shifts closer, the air gets heavier, thicker with the kind of closeness that blurs the edges between us.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, both of us breathing a little harder. His voice comes out barely above a whisper. “You okay?”
He smiles—small, tender—and presses another kiss to the corner of my mouth, then another. His fingers slide along my neck, steadying me, grounding me, and something in my chest just gives way.
All the walls I’ve been holding up, all the things I thought I wasn’t allowed to feel, come undone in one quiet breath.
