Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

WESTON

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the cabin window, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. I lay awake, my heart racing as I replayed the events of last night in my mind. The kiss. Easton's lips on mine. The warmth of his body pressed against me. It felt like a dream, but the lingering tingle on my lips told me it was all too real.

I turned my head slightly, drinking in the sight of him sleeping peacefully beside me. His dark hair was tousled, falling across his forehead in a way that made my fingers itch to brush it back. All these years—how had I never noticed how beautiful he was?

My stomach twisted with a mixture of exhilaration and confusion. This was Easton, my very best friend in the world. The guy who'd been by my side through every up and down of my life. He’d always felt like family to me. And yet, kissing him had felt more right than anything I'd ever experienced.

As if he could sense me watching him, Easton's eyelids fluttered open. Those hazel eyes, still hazy with sleep, met mine, and a soft smile curved his lips.

“Morning, West,” he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

I swallowed hard, trying to calm my racing heart. “Morning, East.”

The silence stretched between us, charged with unspoken words and lingering glances. I watched as he shifted slightly, pulling the blanket up over his chest. The movement brought him closer to me, and I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Sleep well?” I asked, desperate to break the tension.

He nodded, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah, actually. Better than I have in a long time.”

I couldn't help but wonder if it was because of me, because of our kiss. The thought sent a thrill through me, followed quickly by a wave of uncertainty. What if I was reading too much into this? What if he regretted what happened?

“East, about last night...” I began, my voice trailing off as I struggled to find the right words.

His eyes widened slightly, and I saw a flicker of something—fear? hope?—in their depths. “Yeah?”

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “I just... I wanted to say that it was... nice.” Nice? Really, Weston? That's the best you can do?

But Easton's face softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing against mine on top of the covers. “It was,” he agreed softly. “More than nice.”

The warmth of his touch sent sparks shooting up my arm, and I found myself moving closer, drawn to him like a magnet. Our faces were inches apart now, and I could see every freckle dusting his nose, every fleck of gold in his eyes.

“East,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “What are we doing?”

He smiled, a mix of shyness and affection that made my heart skip a beat. “I don't know, West. But... I think I like it.”

And just like that, the last of my hesitation melted away. I closed the distance between us, capturing his lips in a kiss that was somehow both familiar and thrillingly new. As his arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer, I knew that whatever this was, whatever we were becoming, it felt undeniably right.

I pulled back from the kiss, my heart racing. His cheeks were flushed, his pupils wide. I couldn't help but grin.

“So,” I started, my voice a little shaky, “that wasn't weird at all, huh?”

Easton chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “Surprisingly not. I mean, I thought it might be, but...”

“But it feels right,” I finished for him. Our eyes met, and I saw my own mix of excitement and uncertainty reflected back at me.

“Yeah,” He nodded, biting his lower lip. “West, I... I don't really know what this means. For us, I mean.”

I ran a hand through my messy hair, sighing. “Honestly? I'm just as confused as you are, East. Look, I don't have all the answers. But I know I want to explore this... whatever it is between us.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Me too. Maybe we don't need to define it right now. We could just... see where it goes?”

“I like that idea.” I grinned, feeling a weight lift off my chest. “We've still got a few days left on this trip. Let's make the most of them, yeah?”

Easton nodded, his smile brightening. “Agreed. Now, shall we get ready for another day at sea?”

As we fell into our morning routine, I found myself noticing little things I'd never paid attention to before. The way he hummed softly as he brushed his teeth, the careful precision with which he combed his dark hair. Each small habit, so uniquely Easton, only deepened my growing affection.

The ship's grand ballroom buzzed with excitement as we entered, the air thick with the scent of gingerbread and frosting. Easton's eyes lit up behind his black-framed glasses, and I couldn't help but grin at his enthusiasm.

“Ready to dominate this gingerbread house contest?” I nudged him playfully.

He laughed, a sound that sent warmth spreading through my chest. “As long as you don't eat all our building materials.”

We claimed a spot at one of the long tables, shoulders brushing as we surveyed our supplies. I laughed as he began sorting candies by color. “Always the organized one,” I teased, reaching for a handful of gumdrops.

“Someone has to be,” he retorted, swatting my hand away. “We need a plan of attack.”

I couldn't help but laugh at his serious expression. “A plan of attack? East, it's a gingerbread house, not a military operation.”

He shot me a playful glare. “You'll be thanking me when we win this thing.”

As we started assembling our gingerbread walls, I found myself constantly distracted by the little furrow of concentration between his brows, the way he bit his lower lip as he carefully applied frosting. More than once, our hands brushed as we reached for the same piece of candy, sending tingles up my arm.

“You're staring,” Easton murmured, not looking up from his meticulous placement of gumdrops.

I felt heat rush to my cheeks. “Sorry, I just... you look cute when you're focused like that.”

Now it was his turn to blush, a soft pink tinting his cheeks. He glanced up at me, a shy smile playing on his lips. “You're not so bad yourself, you know.”

I felt a warmth spread through my chest at his words. It was still surreal, this new dynamic between us was exhilarating, like discovering a whole new language we'd both secretly known all along.

“Alright, Casanova,” I teased, trying to lighten the moment. “Less flirting, more decorating. We've got a contest to win, remember?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Right, because you're so focused on winning.”

As if to prove his point, I reached for another gumdrop, popping it into my mouth with a grin. “I'm sampling the merchandise. Quality control, you know.”

He rolled his eyes, but I could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. “Quality control, huh? And how many more do you need to 'sample' before you're satisfied?”

I pretended to consider this, tapping my chin thoughtfully. “Oh, at least a dozen more. Maybe two dozen, just to be safe.”

Easton laughed, the sound warming me from the inside out. “At this rate, we'll have nothing left for the actual house.”

I grinned mischievously, reaching for another gumdrop. But before I could pop it in my mouth, his hand darted out, snatching it away.

“Oh no you don't,” he scolded playfully. “These are for decorating, not snacking.”

I pouted, giving him my best pleading look. “Come on. Just one more?”

He shook his head, trying to look stern but failing miserably as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Nope. Not falling for those puppy dog eyes, West.”

As we continued working, our banter flowed easily, punctuated by bursts of laughter. Easton's artistic vision guided us, while my steady hands helped bring it to life. Our creation slowly took shape—a whimsical, lopsided cottage with a roof of colorful candies and icicles made of carefully dripped icing.

“It's perfect,” he declared, adjusting his glasses as he surveyed our work.

I grinned, reaching out to dab a spot of frosting on his nose. “Just like you.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. Easton's hazel eyes met mine, wide with surprise.

“West...” he began, voice soft.

But before he could finish, the contest judge appeared at our table, clipboard in hand. “Oh my, what a delightful creation!” she exclaimed.

As she examined our gingerbread house, I found myself hyper-aware of Easton's presence beside me. The warmth of his arm against mine, the faint scent of his shampoo.

“You two make quite the team,” the judge remarked with a knowing smile.

Easton ducked his head shyly, but I felt a surge of pride. “We always have,” I replied, draping an arm around his shoulders.

The touch lingered, and I marveled at how natural it felt to hold him this way. As we waited for the final results, I found myself stealing glances at him, drawn to the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the quiet joy radiating from him.

I'd seen Easton happy before, of course. But never quite like this. And I realized, with a jolt of clarity, that I wanted to be the reason for that happiness. Always.

After winning the gingerbread house contest, we decided to spend the afternoon relaxing by the pool. I made sure to stay close to Easton this time just in case Tanner the asshole came by with anymore of his flirty little ideas.

Dinner was another lavish spread including glazed ham, grilled pork chops, sweet potato casserole, and roasted vegetables followed by a triple chocolate cake.

Afterwords, we decided to wander around a bit and explore the ship's Christmas decorations. We strolled along the promenade deck, our shoulders brushing as we walked.

“Remember that time we tried to decorate your parents' tree by ourselves while they were at work?” I asked, grinning at the memory.

Easton groaned, adjusting his glasses. “How could I forget? We nearly toppled the whole thing.”

“Hey, it wasn't my fault you couldn't reach the top!”

“No, but it was your idea to use that rickety ladder,” he countered, a smile playing at his lips.

I laughed, the sound echoing in the crisp sea air. “Fair point. Your mom's face when she walked in...”

“Priceless,” he finished, his eyes twinkling behind his frames.

We paused at the railing, gazing out at the ocean. The stars were bright, the moon lending a silvery gleam across the water. I glanced at him, admiring how the golden lights of the deck softened his features.

“This is nice,” I murmured, surprising myself with the depth of emotion in my voice.

He turned to me, his expression open and vulnerable. “Yeah, it is.”

For a moment, I considered leaning in, closing the distance between us. But then a group of carolers passed by, their cheerful voices breaking the spell.

“We should join them,” he suggested, a hint of excitement in his usually quiet demeanor.

I nodded, suddenly eager to see more of this side of him. “Lead the way.”

As we followed the carolers to the main deck, I couldn't help but think how different this Christmas felt. How much more... complete. And I knew it had everything to do with the man walking beside me.

As we joined the crowd on the main deck, Easton's shoulder brushed against mine, sending a jolt of warmth through my body despite the cool ocean breeze. Crew members handed out battery operated candles and we took ours, joining in with the others as we sang one Christmas song after another.

The mood shifted as the lights were dimmed, leaving us bathed in the soft glow of the candles. I glanced at my watch, seeing that it was nearly midnight. “Silent night, holy night,” the group began, and I found myself drawn into the softly sung verses, like the whisper of a promise.

I snuck a glance at Easton and found him staring back at me. He smiled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and I felt an answering grin spread across my face. There was something in that shared look, an understanding that went beyond words.

We both moved at the same time as the song came to an end. “Sleep in heavenly peace.” Our lips sought each other out, our arms enveloping each other. Somewhere far off in the distance, I could hear Christmas cheer being spread.

“Merry Christmas, East,” I said in a shaky voice as we broke for air.

“Merry Christmas, West,” he whispered back. “I... I'm really glad we're spending Christmas together like this.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how important this moment felt. “Me too. I can't imagine being anywhere else, or with anyone else.”

I couldn't hold back any longer. I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him again, pouring all my pent-up emotions into it. He responded immediately, his lips soft and eager against mine. What started as tender quickly intensified, and I found myself pulling him closer, my fingers threading through his dark hair.

He broke away, his breath coming in short gasps. His hazel eyes, usually so calm behind his black-framed glasses, were dark with desire. “West,” he whispered, his voice husky, “maybe we should...”

I nodded, understanding immediately. “Yeah, let's?—”

“Head back to our cabin?” he finished, a hint of his usual shyness creeping back into his voice.

My heart raced at the implication. “God, yes,” I breathed.