Page 57 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
I scoff, shaking my head, and before I can stop myself, I step in behind him, sliding my arms around his waist. He stills for half a beat, surprised, before relaxing into me, warm and solid under my hands.
“I like all of it, Princess,” I murmur against his shoulder. Kissing the side of his head. “The impossible. The ridiculous. The insufferable…” My chest tightens, but the words keep tumbling out, low and certain. “I love all of that about you.”
Eli freezes. His hand, mid–reach for the dish towel, goes slack. The silence stretches, and it takes me a split second too long to realize what I just said.
Shit.
I clear my throat, pressing my forehead between his shoulder blades as though I can hide there. “I mean—I love that you drive me insane. Someone has to, right?” My laugh is forced, shaky. “Keeps me from getting bored.”
Eli sets the plate in the rack, wipes his hands on a dish towel, and leans back against me, just enough to let me know he’s not pulling away. His voice is casual, but there’s a wicked sound to it, and I can picture the look on his face..
“Love, huh?” he drawls. “You’re moving kinda fast for someone who wants to keep this all a secret.”
Heat floods my neck. “That’s not—I didn’t—” I stumble over every word, tightening my arms around his waist like maybe if I hold on he won’t make it worse. “You know what I meant.”
He tilts his head, glancing back at me as I raise my head, eyes sparkling, grin too damn smug. “Oh, I know what yousaid.”
Bitting back a laugh, I bury my face against the back of his shoulder again. “You’re insufferable.”
“Mm.” He hums, satisfied. “Good thing you love that about me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, because he’s not going to let me live this down. Not today. Probably not ever.
I groan, wishing I could rewind the last two minutes. “You’re never letting me forget this, are you?”
“Not a chance,” he says, smug as ever. But then his hand comes up, fingers brushing mine where they’re locked at his waist. His voice dips. “Still…didn’t exactly hate hearing it.”
My chest stutters, everything inside me tightening. I don’t dare move, don’t dare breathe too loud.
Eli twists just enough to glance back at me, his smile less teasing now, more something else. Warm. “Relax, Max. You don’t have to run from it. I’m not going anywhere.”
By Monday morning,the storm feels as though it never happened. The sidewalks are salted, students are trickling back in, and the campus hum is starting to return. What doesn’t feel normal is the quiet buzz under my skin or the echo of a weekend I’m not supposed to think about when anyone else is looking.
Eli and I walk side by side, coffees in hand—mine plain and black, his the normal peppermint-sugar-latte monstrosity that makes him hum under his breath as if it’s nectar from the gods. He bumps my shoulder as we walk the quarter mile toward the rink, the corner of his mouth quirking up teasingly.
“Still not convinced to try a sip?” he teases.
“I’d rather drink motor oil.”
“Wow. Bold words from someone who inhaled my Christmas cookies all weekend.”
I shoot him a look, but he just grins wider, the picture of unbothered. It’s ridiculous how easy it feels between us—like we didn’t just spend four days wrapped up in something no one else can ever know about.
The walk is short, and once we’re inside, the air smells of sweat and rubber and whatever faint trace of pine the staff tried to pump through the vents for holiday spirit. Eli keeps pace with me, sliding into his usual role—loud, obnoxious, impossible to ignore.
He hops up onto the bench, balancing his latte on the rail, and launches intoJingle Bell Rock,pretending he’s auditioning for the most obnoxious Christmas concert of all time.
“God, Eli, shut up,” one of the guys groans, tossing a stray tape roll at his head. “It’s too early.”
“Bah humbug!” Eli crows back, dodging it easily. “Calder, tell them they’re crushing my holiday cheer.”
I roll my eyes, tugging my gloves tighter, forcing my mouth into a flat line even as something warm pushes through my chest. This—him being impossible, ridiculous,insufferable—is exactly what we agreed on. The weekend stays ours. The rest of the world just sees Eli being Eli.
And no one has a clue that underneath all his noise and all my scowls, we’re carrying something fragile and new between us.
Eli drains the last of his peppermint sugar bomb with a loud slurp, hops off the bench, and nudges me with his elbow on the way toward the locker room.
“Try not to miss me while I get dressed for my glorious goalie duties.”
