5. Cassidy

5

Cassidy

I can’t believe I cried in front of him. Can’t believe I leaned on him either, practically snuggling the man. The hug was pretty nice, and much needed at the time. Now I keep remembering how it feels to have his arms wrapped around me.

Mylo doesn’t bring up our time spent outside, however, I feel his eyes on me from time to time. If he’s worried about me, he’s not showing it on his face. Not really. Maybe a little bit of interest, but I’m going to keep telling myself that I’m seeing things.

My parents are swarming me with enough of their attention to help distract me for the time being.

Now I’m in bed, tossing and turning as much as I had the previous night before.

I’m going to have to look into some sleeping aids. Something that will help settle the constant rush of thoughts flooding my brain.

No matter how many times I close my eyes, it’s futile. Maybe if I got a hot drink or nibbled on a snack, exhaustion would creep in. At this point, I’m willing to try anything.

Giving up, I leave my room and enter nothing but darkness and silence. Feeling my way toward the stairs, I notice a low glow of light. Seems I’m not the only one here struggling to sleep.

Following the light, I see the kitchen is the room with hints of life. Creeping toward the doorway, my chest tightens when I see it’s Mylo inside. He’s hunched over the counter, chewing on a cookie with a glass of milk within his reach.

As if feeling my stare, he glances up, pausing mid-bite. Caught in the act, the cookie cracks and a chuckle rumbles through him.

“Mom is going to kill you if she finds out.” Approaching him, I take a look at the bag he’s pulled out. “Though, I can’t be a snitch if I commit the same crime.” With a grin teasing my lips, I dip my hand in the bag and pull out a cookie shaped like a Christmas tree.

A chuckle rumbles out of him as I sink my teeth into such softness. “Yes, good thinking. If you ask me, she asked for trouble by leaving them out in the first place.” He plucks out another snowman-shaped one and lifts a brow. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

I should be, but this man is the reason behind my struggles.

“Pretty sure your bedtime is as early as my parents,” I tease with a curve of my lips. Not to say they’re all old, but they call it a night alongside the sun. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

He scoffs, shaking his head. Pursing his lips, his brows furrow low. “Haven’t been sleeping too well.”

Seems like we’re in the same boat then, suffering together.

Inching closer, I feel the heat radiating off his body. Wearing a snug pair of sweats, I sneak glances lower. Biting the inside of my cheek, my toes curl against the tile. Thank goodness for the counter supporting most of my weight. My knees are feeling a little weak as I take in his form.

It’s late, and I’m tired. Hungry too, just not for these cookies. I want this man even more when I see him like this.

My eyes lift and I catch myself staring at his lips. He catches on, but mistakes what I’m doing.

“Need to shave,” he mutters as he brushes the crumbs off his beard. “Let it get a little out of hand.”

“I don’t know,” I hum as I count the number of gray hairs sneaking through the rest of the dark hairs. “I think I like a man with a beard.” Speaking my thoughts without realizing it, I blink.

Mylo is staring at me, looking surprised as well. After a passing second, his thumb brushes against the snowman’s face. “Yeah?”

What am I doing? Testing the waters should be off-limits with this man. One wrong move and our stay together is going to come off as awkward as can be.

I won’t survive if one of my parents pulls me aside to tell me not to flirt with their friend.

“Yeah,” I whisper with a swift nod. Cheeks feeling hot, I swipe another cookie and shove it inside my mouth before I go saying anything else. “We should go to bed. They’re going to be expecting a lot from us in the morning.”

The tree is getting delivered, my mother wants to make more batches of cookies. Literal chaos.

He pulls his eyes away and nods. “You first. I’ll head that way in a minute.”

I don’t put up a fight. Not after this last embarrassing exchange. I might’ve as well told him that everything about him is my type.

Now that I want to die a little, I’m not so sure I’m going to be able to sleep a wink.

* * *

For old-time memory sake, my parents insisted on waiting to put up all the decorations until the arrival of the tree. In truth, I think they were just waiting for me to come home. It was one of those things we always did together. Sure, there might be a small Santa statue already here and there, but that’s all there is to it.

My mother wants to bake while we have fun and my father hates leaving her side. Mylo reassures them that I have all the help I need. They can catch up while we decorate. Maybe they wanted me to make up for all the time missed out while I was away.

I don’t trust myself enough to be near the man. My toes curl and my thighs press together every time he’s within my reach. If he knows how much of a weakness he is to me, then he must enjoy making me suffer.

He helps pull out the three totes from the basement, showing his bravery by swiping away any spiderwebs. As much as I want to put some distance between us, I know there’s no chance I’d survive seeing a spider.

Once we’re going through different ones, I watch as his nose scrunches at the number of figurines inside of one. He’s been to our home during the holidays in past years. He shouldn’t be too surprised.

“Why do they need all of this crap?” His question is soft with disbelief, mostly aimed at himself.

I crack a smile, unable to help myself. “You don’t have this many decorations?”

He flicks his eyes over in my direction and my stomach clenches when his mouth teases a smile of his own. “We had a reef to put on the front door and a tree with a few bulbs. Took five minutes to set up. This is going to take us all afternoon.”

I try to imagine him at his home, rushing through one of the best parts of the holidays. “I’ll do it all if you don’t want to. I must get my love for this through my parents.”

He turns down my offer and starts planting the figurines wherever he can in the most random of spots. I fight not to snort and opt to let him do as he pleases.

“What about you, do you have a godly amount of this stuff collected over the years?” He plucks up a statue of Mrs. Claus and takes in her worn details.

“I had a small tree, barely bigger than two feet.” I shrug a shoulder. “Takes decades to get a collection this great. I didn’t have much, rather, I didn’t have the room. Got rid of it once the holidays were over.”

“Well, if you stay here, in town I mean, you can find a bigger place. You could do whatever you wanted.” Laying down the suggestion with ease, he sets down the sleigh statue next to the Santa one. At least he got one set correct.

It’s going to take a lot of time to find a place big enough to call my dream home. Now, I’m probably going to get one of those apartments in the middle of town. It’ll be close enough to the diner, the one I’ll fill out an application for.

Thinking about the future is stressful, enough to leave me squeezing the poor tree skirt in my grip. I don’t realize how white my knuckles are until I feel warmth on my shoulder. Mylo is bringing me out of these thoughts, kneading my stiffness with his thumb.

“Talk to me if you want.” He’s got this concern behind his gaze, he’s worried about me. He doesn’t even try to hide it on his face.

My skin is prickling up from his touch and the only thing worse than thinking about the unknown is thinking about how much I want this man.

Instead of telling him the truth of everything on my mind, I swat my hand and pull away. The warm spot on my shoulder cools in a matter of seconds. He frowns when I brush his concern away with a pressed smile.

He doesn’t push, thank goodness. If he sat me down and demanded to know my secrets, I’d crack and crumble, telling him everything. All because it’s him demanding to know. Instead, he empties his tote by the time I make a dent in mine.

Mylo offers to help decorate the tree, but I insist that I can handle this bit all by myself. Even though this tree is the biggest I’ve seen in our home, and I’ll have to climb the stairs to make sure the top half is just as covered, I won’t ask. Even if he’s got an extra foot of height, that doesn’t matter.

The sugary scent of cookies fills the room thanks to my parent’s shared teamwork in getting plenty of sweets ready to hand off to all of the neighbors nearest to us.

Someone has music playing, the soft classical jingle making the room feel that much warmer.

My skin is prickling up beneath the sleeves of my sweater, but I can’t tell if the temperature of the room is responsible.

Against the wall, a fire flickers. It’s the main heat source in the front of the house and I’m tempted to toss in another log. Anything to help fight the continuous amount of snow falling from the sky outside.

Every time I turn away from Mylo, my imagination gets the best of me. I feel his eyes digging into my back. Yet, with every glance over my shoulder, I can see his attention is elsewhere. He’s squinting, looking like he’s got plenty on his mind.

Wouldn’t it be more entertaining to spend time with my parents? They’re his friends after all.

Instead of voicing my thoughts, I keep my hands busy. Constantly moving, I’m tossing broken bulbs in a pile of their own and fixing hooks to make sure they cling to branches without any risk of slipping. Slowly, the tree transforms into a mess of colors and dazzling lights. Enough of them to be considered a fire hazard.

Once the tree is finished, I take a few steps back to take in my work. Pursing my lips, I tilt my head.

“It looks fine,” Mylo comments from the couch. Already taking his first break, I’m sure this will take a while. As if he can see the hesitation on my face, he scoffs. “Don’t worry too much about it.”

“Hard not to when my parents are going to want to take a thousand pictures in front of it. People will see how sloppy it is.” Crossing my arms, my lips purse. Reaching forward, I readjust some of the lights to spread them out better. Hearing him click his tongue, I ignore him.

Once I’m happy with it, I move on. There are more strings of lights and silver tinsel to decorate the stairs with. Archways as well. I’ll make everything perfect. It has to be.