Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

December 25, 11:34 am

NESSA

“ L et there be light!” I call out as I swing my apartment door open. The living room has come back to life—the TV is on, and the A Christmas Story marathon is still playing. It’s the leg lamp scene, almost the same place it was when the power went out last night.

Jack would get a kick out of that if he were here; he went home to shower and change. I wish he’d hurry back. But then it hits me: what if he doesn’t come back? His power is back on—maybe he was just hanging out to stay warm, nothing to do with me, personally. A mean little voice sneaks into my mind, whispering the words that nag at me all too often lately: that I’m not enough to be anyone’s first choice.

My phone—charging on the kitchen counter—chimes. When I pick it up, I see a bunch of Happy almost-Hanukkah texts and pictures that have come in from my roommates and parents. Julie, from her cruise stop in Key West—a parrot on her shoulder. Amanda, a selfie with her boyfriend snowshoeing by the lake in Michigan. And my parents on the beach holding margaritas, smiling at each other like no one else exists but them.

I’m thrilled for all of them—but it’s a reminder that everyone I love has someone else they love more. At this stage in my life, my friends are pairing off, and my parents are in their second act, and I’m here. Just with myself. And maybe Jack, if he hasn’t gotten sick of me yet.

I shake that off—he said he’d be right back, and I have no reason to doubt him. It’s just that the apartment feels empty without him. Lonely. I miss him, which is crazy. Because less than twenty-four hours ago, the only thing I knew about the man was that he was probably a doctor, he was definitely a runner, and he had calves that made me weak in the knees.

But in this short window of time, Jack has grown even more attractive to me. Now I know how much humor and heart there is behind his dazzling blue eyes. How smart he is, how he listens and pays attention with his whole body, how much he loves his family. And despite missing them, he’s helped make this holiday brighter, even with sub-zero temperatures and no power.

There was a moment out there when I was sure he was going to kiss me—his gloved hand was like ice on my face, and I shivered even as my skin lit up at his touch. But then I had to go and blow it, noticing the electricity was back on. At this rate, the man might not kiss me until New Years Eve. If we’re still stranded here together…which wouldn’t be so bad.

He’s probably finished showering by now, so I should get a move on if I don’t want to be a smelly elf when he gets back. Then he’ll never want to kiss me.

Thirty minutes later, I’ve showered and shaved (just in case!) and am drying my hair when there’s a knock at my door.

“It’s open,” I call as I walk out of the bathroom. I decided to stay cozy and warm, wearing a fresh pair of leggings, a tank, and an oversized sweater. It’s going to take a while for this ancient heating system to get the apartment back to a bearable temperature.

Jack walks in, looking clean and fresh and as excited as—well, a kid on Christmas morning. His arms are full of bags and boxes of frozen food.

“What’ve you got there?” I ask, leaning against the wall.

“Potatoes,” he says. “Hashbrowns, French fries, and mashed.”

“I thought you said your fridge was empty?”

“It is.” He bumps my shoulder on his way to the kitchen. “But my freezer was stocked. I thought we could maybe use this stuff to make some kind of latke-like objects. I’m sure they won’t be as good as the ones you make with your roommates, but it could be fun. And tasty. What do you think?”

My eyes well with tears. What I think is that this is the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, and that Jack is the sweetest, most thoughtful person, and I’m sorry he got stranded in Chicago, but I’m so glad he’s here with me. I didn’t realize how sad I’d been until he reminded me how it feels to be happy.

But I don’t have the words to say all that, so I walk into the kitchen and wrap my arms around him. Jack stiffens at first, as if he doesn’t realize what I’m doing—but after a moment, his body seems to melt into mine, and he hugs me back.

“Thank you,” I say, squeezing tight.

“It’s nothing,” he says, but the way he’s rubbing my back doesn’t feel like nothing. His hands linger there, a slow, deliberate pressure that sends shivers across my skin. His breath brushes against my hair, and the air around us seems to thicken.

My heart picks up, my pulse racing as every nerve in my body becomes aware of how close we are. How easy it would be to tip this into something more.

I pull back slightly, just enough to look up into his eyes. There’s a question in them again, like he’s waiting for something. And before I can second-guess myself, I blurt out, “Are you ever going to kiss me?”

Jack’s eyebrows lift. “I’m already invading your space; I didn’t want…I’m trying to follow your lead.”

“But you have to lead.”

“Why?” he asks, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. That gesture again.

“Because…” I break eye contact and look instead at the stack of frozen food on the counter. I know this is silly, and it’s not something I’ve ever had to actually talk about. Most guys are more than happy to make the first move. It’s later they backtrack—I work too much, or I get too excited about things, or I expect too much. I am, overall, too much.

“Hey,” Jack says. “You can tell me.”

And for some reason, I get the feeling he won’t laugh or judge me. That he’ll understand and finally just give me what I need, what we both want. I take a deep breath and say, “Because I don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He slides his hand under my chin and lifts my face toward him, so I have no choice but to look him in the eye. “Kiss?”

“No,” I laugh, awkward and too loud. “I love kissing, I love it. And I’m really good at it, from what I’ve been told. I just don’t make the first move.”

“Ever? Like never?”

“Not since eighth grade. I had a bad experience—misread some signals and ended up embarrassing myself. So ever since then, I just decided I’d let the guy make the first move. Less risk of mortification.”

Jack frowns, which was not the response I was going for. “That makes me sad for what you’ve missed out on.”

“Oh, I haven’t missed out,” I say. “I’ve kissed plenty of people.”

“Yeah, but you’re missing out on that thrill of vulnerability when you decide to put yourself out there. That pulse racing moment when you lean in, how time seems to slow down and every second feels like a minute until the other person leans in, too, tilts their head…”

Without meaning to, I tilt my head as he says the words—then snap out of it. I step back, my heart thudding against my ribcage. It’s too hard to think about this, to talk about it when his hands are on me, creating sparks with his touch.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’ve never put yourself out there, being all vulnerable only to get rejected. To be laughed at, to feel like you’ve thrown yourself off a cliff and there was no one there to catch you.”

Jack’s expression softens, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I’ve felt that plenty of times. But…”

“But what?” I challenge, my voice sharper than I mean it to be. I just want him to kiss me.

“But it’s like you said about the Christmas music. The risk is worth it, especially when the reward can be so incredibly sweet. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“I’m not scared,” I say, even though a part of me is. The fourteen-year-old girl I used to be—the one who couldn’t trust her instincts, who built walls to avoid getting hurt.

“Then kiss me.”

His words hang in the air between us, my heart once again pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. Everything in me wants to close the gap, to let myself fall into this moment—but then I shake my head. “This is ridiculous!”

Jack is looking at me with an expression somewhere between curious and compassionate, and something shifts. Maybe I can trust him. Maybe I can trust this.

“A kiss is four times more exciting if you’re the one initiating it,” he says, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Did you learn that at trivia, too?”

He shrugs, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh. His restraint and his so-called respect are as endearing as it is maddening.

I put my hands on my hips. “Are you really going to make me do this?”

“I’m not going to make you do anything.” He’s smirking at me, eyes glinting with challenge as he leans against the counter and folds his arms. “But I hope you will—or we can always start defrosting these potatoes and…”

Oh, fuck it.

Before he can finish his sentence, I close the distance between us. I reach my hand up behind his neck and bring his head down as I tilt mine up toward his. Our lips brush—once, twice—and I feel it: the thrill, the vulnerability, the electricity.

I pull back an inch and lift my eyes to his, taking a shaky breath.

“Good job,” he whispers.

I nod, proud of myself but also a little disappointed it’s already over. But then Jack cups my face in his hand and pulls my mouth to his again.

He immediately parts my lips with an urgency that steals my breath. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a pull, a dive, dragging us deeper and deeper. When our tongues meet, it’s like a spark lighting a fuse—warmth blooms in my chest, making my pulse race, and all I can do is hold on.

When his hands slide to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, I let out a low moan and clutch his flannel shirt, pulling him closer, needing more of him. His mouth shifts to my jaw, then my throat, and my head rolls back as I give in to the sensation. It’s all-consuming, a soul-bending kiss that makes me forget time, space, anything that isn’t him. It’s just us, floating in some in-between place where nothing matters but the sweetness of his mouth, the soft sounds of pleasure rumbling in his throat, the warmth of his breath fanning against my skin.

All too soon, his kisses become softer, gentler, feather-light until he pulls back, leaving me with one last lingering kiss that keeps me tethered to him, even when it’s over.

When I lift my eyes to meet his, he’s smiling, his eyes sparkling like the first snowflakes of a storm, catching the light and making everything feel still and quiet. I want to hold onto this feeling, the two of us in this perfect little snow globe of a moment together.

I’m about to lean in to see if the second kiss can be even better than the first when a shrill noise sounds, like an alarm. I flinch, hoping I’m not about to wake up and discover this is all some fever dream.

The sound chimes again, and Jack lets out a disappointed sigh that captures exactly how I feel. He fishes in his pocket and pulls out his phone—I see the word MOMMA on the screen with an incoming FaceTime call.

“Go ahead,” I tell him. “It’s okay.”

“Thank you.” Jack gives me a quick kiss before answering his phone. “Hey, Mom. I miss you guys, too.”