Page 28 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
Eli: Miss me already? ??
I drag a hand down my face, groaning into the dark. Of course, he’d say that. Of course, he’d make it sound as if I couldn’t go thirty minutes without him.
The worst part is he’s not wrong.
My thumbs hover uselessly. I could deflect, keep it casual, but the grin tugging at my mouth is impossible to smother. He’s sitting there in the same freezing building, poking at me through a tiny glowing screen, and somehow it feels more intimate than that kiss under the snow.
I type fast before I can overthink it:
Me: Just making sure you didn’t freeze to death, Starling.
The second it sends, I regret it. Too clipped. But before I can throw my phone across the room, his reply comes in.
Eli: Aww, worried about me? That kiss really did a number on you.
My ears burn even though nobody can see me. I start to type something back—Shut upfeels like the safest bet—but another message comes in.
Eli: We could hang out, you know. Conserve body heat. Maybe watch a movie.
My laptop is charged, and I can hook it up to my hotspot.
I have Christmas movies on an external hard drive.
I blink at the screen, pulse spiking. He’s joking. He has to be joking. But the image lodges in my brain anyway; Eli sprawled across his bed, blanket draped over us, that grin daring me to do something about it.
I stare at his text way too long, thumb hovering over the keyboard as if it’s life or death. Hang out. Conserve body heat. Watch a movie. It’s harmless. It’s a snowstorm. And yet my stomach knots like I’m about to cross some invisible line.
Me: Not sure that’s a great idea.
I hit send before I can stop myself, then instantly hate how stiff it sounds. My screen lights up again seconds later.
Eli: Fine, I’ll eat my pie without you. Or we could watch a movie, and I’ll share…
I huff out a laugh despite myself, dragging a hand down my face. He makes everything sound so damn easy.
Me: Fine. What’s your room number?
There’s a long beat where I wonder if I imagined the whole thing, and then it buzzes back.
Eli: 314. Don’t keep me waiting, Calder.
I sit there for a moment, staring at the number, fighting the smile tugging at my mouth. Then I shove my boots back on and try not to think too hard about the fact that I’m really doing this.
The hallways are darker than usual, the faint glow from the emergency lights painting everything in dull yellow. My boots scuff against the tile as I count down the doors until I reach 314. My pulse is ridiculous for something as simple as knocking, but my knuckles still hesitate a second before I rapped against the wood.
The door swings open almost immediately, and I’m hit with the faint smell of peppermint and cinnamon, and a sight that nearly knocks me flat.
It’s like I just stepped into Santa’s workshop. Garlands are strung across the walls, twinkle lights that must be battery powered shine from where they wrap the bed frame and shelves, and stockings dangle from the dresser. There’s even a sad little fake tree in the corner with ornaments crowding every branch. Without full power, the place should feel gloomy, but somehow the decorations make it glow, and the twinkling lights make it feel very cheery.
Eli stands there, grinning at me with one hand braced on the doorframe, knowing exactly what kind of Christmas hell I just walked into.
“Welcome to the North Pole,” he says, a little too smug. “Mind the reindeer, they’re off-duty tonight.”
I blink at him, then at the explosion of tinsel behind him. My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
He just beams wider, stepping back to let me in.
I step inside, shaking my head as my boots squeak against the tile. “How the hell did your roommate let you get away with this?”
