Page 81 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
There it is again.Love.The word that should send me running the other way. But it doesn’t. It feels…right. Too right.
He shifts, propping his chin on his fist, and his eyes don’t leave me. Like I’m the better view. Like I’m worth staring at.
It does something violent to my ribs.
So I lean in, closing the space a fraction, my gaze dipping to his mouth. His eyes widen, just barely, but enough to tell me he knows exactly what I’m thinking. Are we in public? Yeah. But if no one here knows us, why the hell should it matter?
I drag in a breath, look back out the window at the endless sky, and force out, “You sure you’re ready for three weeks of this?”
He tilts his head, curious. “Of what?”
I turn back to him, my voice dropping low. “Not sneaking around.” I let the words hang there, heavy with everything I mean. Then, before I can overthink it, I thread my fingers fully through his, where they rest on the armrest. “Holding hands in public.”
His breath hitches, lips parting.
“Kissing,” I add, softer, leaning in until my mouth brushes his. “Doing everything we can’t on campus.”
And then I close the last inch, pressing a kiss to his lips—soft, slow, nothing to hide. Just us, thirty thousand feet in the air, finally allowed to exist.
And it feels so fucking freeing that I’m grinning when I pull back.
Eli blinks at me, a little stunned, and I can’t help myself—I tap his nose with my finger, then use the same hand to tilt his chin up, holding his gaze steady.
“I’m going to enjoy every second,” I murmur.
A smile wavers on his mouth, his eyes glossing with something he blinks away before it can spill. “Yeah,” he breathes, voice soft but sure. “Me too.”
Eli’s still got my hand tangled in his, thumb sketching lazy circles like he can’t sit still without touching me. He tips his head toward me, beanie slipping back, and smiles.
“Bet you’re dying inside, though,” he says.
I arch a brow. “Why?”
“Because you’re stuck in a tin can for two hours with me humming carols.” His lips twitch like he’s already amused by my answer.
I grunt. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
He snorts and bumps his knee into mine, clearly not buying it. A minute later, he’s opening the little packet of pretzels they handed out, splitting them in half and shoving the smaller pile toward me.
“Seriously?” I ask, side-eyeing the sad excuse for a snack.
“Sharing’s festive,” he shoots back, popping one into his mouth. “Besides, you need to work on your holiday spirit. If you think I’m bad, wait until you meet my mom.”
I shake my head, but when he grins at me with salt on his lip, I catch myself reaching over, thumb brushing it away beforeI can think better of it. His breath hitches, soft, and for a second, the noise of the plane drops out.
Neither of us moves.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “People might think you like me.”
I lean just close enough that my breath stirs his curls that stick out the bottom and sides of his beanie. “They’d be right.”
He goes quiet, pink high in his cheeks, and I know I’ve stunned him again. It makes me smirk, a little smug, but when he finally laughs—quiet and warm—it’s worth everything.
The joltof the landing gear still rattles in my bones as we file off the plane, the crowd funneling us toward baggage claim. Eli’s practically bouncing beside me, beanie low, curls escaping anyway. His energy is like static in the air, impossible not to catch.
And then I see her. A woman with Eli’s same bright grin, standing on tiptoe and waving like she’s been waiting forever. Beside her is a girl younger than him—high school, maybe—with matching curls and a sign in her hand that saysWELCOME HOME, STARLINGin glittery letters.
Before I can blink, Eli’s running forward. His mom sweeps him into her arms, squeezing him so tight I can almost feel it from here. Her laughter echoes across the carousel, pure joy. Sunshine. Yeah—now I know exactly where he gets it from.
