Josh

JOSH

I wake up to a piercing whistle right next to my ear. My arms and legs flail as I scramble up, pushing hair out of my face, looking around wildly. What the hell was that noise? A car alarm? The fire alarm? Alien invasion?

I look up and see myself on the other side of the bed.

I let out a very undignified scream and scramble backward.

The on the other side of the bed snorts and last night comes rushing back to me. Oh God. It’s still not over. It wasn’t a dream. I’m still stuck in Gabriel’s body, and he’s stuck in mine.

The nightmare continues.

I slump back on the bed and lift my middle finger high in the air.

“I hate you,” I mutter.

“Time to get up,” he says, sounding markedly more cheerful than last night.

I bury my face in the pillow and seriously consider suffocating myself for a second. “Ugh. Of course you’re a morning person. Of course. When it came to choosing your character traits, you just went ahead and picked the worst ones, didn’t you? Do you also regularly bring your guitar to parties to sing some sweet tunes when nobody asked? And you’re proud that you’re brutally honest, right? Hey, maybe as breakfast entertainment you’ll want to show me travel photos of the office buildings you saw that one time you went to Chicago and describe them to me in excruciating detail?”

“Up,” he repeats. “We have to get going.”

I take a reluctant glance out the window. It’s still dark outside. I hate everything.

“What time is it?” I ask through a yawn so big my jaw cracks.

“Four forty-five.”

I slowly look up at him. These must be the famous auditory hallucinations, because I swear he just said four something something.

“Excuse me?” I say, speaking very loudly and slowly, hoping it’ll prompt him to do the same.

“It’s four forty-five. Time to get to work.”

“In the afternoon, right?”

He just raises one brow in response.

“But… But… But we don’t have to be in before eight! Please don’t tell me it takes you three hours to get ready in the morning.” I manage to pry my eyes open once more and look at him. “What the hell are you wearing?”

He looks down at yet another set of dress pants and one of the dress shirts my grandmother’s personal shopper insists on sending over every once in a while. Most of the clothes travel to goodwill as soon as the packages arrive, but every once in a while a few slip through.

“Clothes,” he says.

“You look like you’re heading to a board meeting for CEOs who think this is what people wear on casual Friday.”

He ignores me and adjusts the collar of the shirt. “I don’t know why you insist on wearing those old T-shirts if you have a perfectly decent wardrobe at hand. Now get up. We’re leaving in ten.”

“To go where?”

“Just get up and get ready. And maybe I’ll be nice enough to get you coffee later.”

I swear under my breath, but I drag my ass out of bed. My eyes are half-closed as I stumble around. I’m pretty sure at one point I try to comb my hair with my toothbrush. I start to gain some consciousness when we’re sitting in an empty subway car, going in the complete opposite direction from the office. I’d ask Gabriel what’s going on, but I’m too sleepy to move my mouth. Instead, I lean my forehead against the glass and stare into the darkness.

At one point, Gabriel drags me out of the subway, and we walk until we end up in front of a small café. All the windows are dark, and there doesn’t seem to be anybody in there. I look around, but aside from a few early morning people, there’s nobody here.

When I turn back to Gabriel though, he’s messing with the door.

“Why are you breaking into a café?” I ask.

“I’m not breaking in. I’ve got a key, genius.”

“But why?”

“Because,” he says, irritating as ever.

“Because?”

“I have a job,” he says as he turns on the lights. “It’s one of those things people do to get money if Daddy hasn’t given them a credit card with no spending limit.”

I ignore the jab. It’s a quaint little place. There’s a small counter, a huge espresso machine behind the counter, a few tables and chairs by the window, and a pastry case next to the registry. Fairy lights are hung on the ceiling and by the windows. It’s cozy. How the hell did they end up hiring Gabriel? He’s the direct opposite of cozy.

He grabs two aprons from the hook by the door and throws one to me. “You’re here because I need to cover all my bases. If my sister comes in and finds a stranger behind her counter instead of me, she’s going to have questions.”

I wonder if it’s difficult to live like that, being so incredibly serious day in and day out. Where’s the fun in Gabriel’s life?

I’m about to ask when I remember it’s none of my business. Instead, I watch him walk around, turning on the espresso machine and getting things ready for the day. Every once in a while he sends me a look. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s thinking. This is yet another moment he’s going to hold over my head as proof that I’m useless.

What else am I supposed to do here? Watch this other work while I overthink?

It doesn’t sound appealing at all.

“Tell me what to do,” I say, rolling up my sleeves.

Gabriel eyes me for a second before he grabs my shoulders and turns me toward the window. “Pay careful attention because I’ve got a very important task for you. You just go over to that chair, sit down, and look pretty. Genetics do the heavy lifting on the last one, so you really only have one thing to worry about.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, come on! I didn’t wake up at some godforsaken hour before dawn to just sit and stare at nothing. I’ll fall asleep and drool all over the table. I’m volunteering to help. Use me.”

He raises a skeptical brow. “Got a lot of experience making coffee, do you?”

“I drink coffee, and I’ve made plenty of cups for myself over the years. Does that count?”

As expected, that doesn’t impress Gabriel, so I take a different route. “Fine. I guess I’ll just sit here, then. Although, I do hope your sister won’t walk in unexpectedly and see me— oh, sorry, I mean you—just sitting by the window, doing nothing. Hey, can I get a scone while I chill here?”

Gabriel glowers at me and sighs, but eventually his shoulders drop in resignation. “You can hand out the food. Just take the pastry out of the case and put it in the paper bag. Think you can manage that?”

I nod. “Throw the pastry at the customer and aim for the nose. Got it.”

“I’m regretting this already.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m a people person, so I’m perfect for the job.”

He looks up at the ceiling, lips moving silently as he counts to ten. His eyes find me again after a moment. “Look, I know life is a whole big party to you and everything is a joke, but this right here isn’t. It’s my sister’s café. She’s worked her ass off to get it off the ground. I help out two mornings every week when her husband is coming off the night shift, so they can all have breakfast as a family and she can take her kids to school. This place might not mean anything to you, but it does to her, so if you plan to screw anything up here on purpose because you’re trying to be funny, I’d think again.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

He sends me a long, skeptical look. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I narrow my eyes at him. He looks away first. Small victories. Gabriel goes to the door and flips the sign over. There are already people lining up outside, so the moment Gabriel opens the door, they move in.

“Heya, Gabe,” the man in the front says to me. “Can I get the usual?”

It takes me a moment to get over the fact that the guy is calling Gabriel Gabe. Gabriel! The one time I tried that he told me he knew how to decapitate people. It takes an elbow to the side from Gabriel for me to snap out of it.

“Yeah! Yeah. Absolutely. One usual coming up straight away.”

“Cinnamon roll,” Gabriel mutters next to me, so I spring into action and scoop one into the bag, handing it over while Gabriel gives the man a cup of coffee.

“You’re new,” the guy says, looking at Gabriel. “I didn’t know Ari was hiring.”

“I’m Gabriel’s… friend,” Gabriel says, to his credit, with minimal gagging. Swear to God, it feels weird hearing those words come out of what is technically my mouth with my voice.

“Best friend.” I pipe up, ignoring the glare Gabriel sends me as inspiration strikes and my lips pull into a grin. “Thick as thieves, and I. Have I ever mentioned before? We’re coworkers, and let me tell you, is a genius and a role model for me. I look up to him. It’s not even just that. When I’m having a dilemma, I think to myself, ‘What would do?’ Because he’d know.”

“Oh. Wow,” the dude says. He looks a bit startled, but I don’t let that stop me.

Instead, I start nodding enthusiastically. “ is like a sunny day in my otherwise dreary existence.” I’m on a roll now. “He is a light in the darkness. An inspiration.” I pause dramatically. “Nay, a mentor. He guides my way through life. I am endlessly lucky to have him steer me in the right direction. Who knows what I would’ve become without in my life?”

Gabriel’s fingers clutch the back of my neck, and he sends me a smile that’s all teeth and homicidal thoughts. “You vastly overestimate my influence,” he grits out.

I try to wiggle out of the death grip, but he won’t budge, so instead I pat at his— my —chest and put on a dopey smile that I’m sure Gabriel would rather die than ever have on his face voluntarily.

“And he’s humble on top of everything else,” I say. “Can you believe it? Really just a remarkab?—”

My voice is cut off when Gabriel slaps his palm over my mouth.

“Remarkably clumsy, is what he means to say.” He sends the guy with the coffee a smile that has a maniacal edge to it. “Oh! Here’s a funny story about that. Remember that time I kicked a soccer ball against a goal post and it bounced back and knocked me out cold?”

I stare at him for a moment while I relive that particular embarrassing moment before I narrow my eyes at him.

“Now, now,” I say. “No need to put yourself down. It takes a lot of skill to be that accurate. I could certainly never do it.” I snap my fingers. “Like that one time when I had food poisoning in ninth grade and somehow missed the sink during English class? That was remarkably clumsy of me.”

His eyes widen with horror before he clenches his jaw. “Did I ever tell you about the time I backed the car into my driving instructor during driver’s ed, and he refused to teach me after that?”

“An honest mistake,” I protest. “How were you supposed to know he was there?”

“Mirrors, common sense, and eyes,” Gabriel says mildly. God, I hope there won’t be some kind of glitch that’ll make that smug look permanent on my face.

“Oh! Eyes! I should’ve used those that time I tripped on Jessica Morris’s crutches after she broke her leg and took her down with me.” I shake my head. “Should’ve really used those eyes then.”

“Speaking about—” Gabriel starts, but somebody clears their throat. We both jerk around to face the counter again. The guy with the coffee pointedly hands over his credit card.

Gabriel clamps his mouth shut and takes the card.

A minute later, the guy hurries out the door without looking back.

We exchange another one of those murderous looks and by an unspoken agreement, don’t talk until the end of the shift, when the door opens and a woman walks in. If I didn’t know she was Gabriel’s sister, I’d just need to take one look at her. She’s pretty much a copy of him. Tall, like he is, with the same wiry build. They have the exact same shade of dark brown hair and whiskey brown eyes. Both she and Gabriel have the same tanned complexion and the same almost delicate bone structure. Her hair is long, reaching down to her waist, as opposed to Gabriel’s carefully styled haircut which is shorter on the sides and longer on top, but that’s about the only real difference between the two of them.

She grins widely as she looks at me and punches me on the arm. “Close your mouth or your heart gets cold,” she says with a laugh.

Unsure what else to do, I do as she says.

“Everything go okay?” she asks as she heads behind the counter, pulls off her coat and unwinds the scarf from around her neck.

Gabriel steps on my toe. Considering he’s doing that to his own body, he’s not being especially gentle.

“Ow!” I snap, then quickly force a grin onto my face. “Great!” I say. Then I remember I’m supposed to be Gabriel, so I should probably tone down the normal-people emotions. “I mean, fine. It was the usual.”

Ari stops tying her apron and looks at me.

“Are you feeling okay?”

What would Gabriel say?

“I had everything under control,” I say in a measured tone. “As always.”

Ari purses her lips and presses her palm against my forehead. “You sound constipated.”

I try to come up with something to say, and while I contemplate, a huge yawn escapes.

Ari sends me a sly look. “Tired?” she asks and tilts her head to the side. “I guess you must be since you were nowhere near your own bed last night. Anything you want to share?”

Oh hell no. This is not my mess to untangle.

“This is ,” I say, pushing Gabriel forward because I have no clue what to say, so he might as well get us out of this. She’s his sister after all. “He’s a friend.”

Ari raises her brows before she finally, finally turns her attention away from me. “?” she asks, and her eyes flick back to me, she sends me a long, intent look. “ The ?”

“Yes?” I say carefully. “ The ?”

What does that mean? Why the weird ‘the?’

Yeah, okay, I can probably take a fairly accurate guess.

the annoying menace.

the spoiled, rich douche.

the bane of my existence.

Something like that.

I send him a glare, but he avoids looking at me. Well, well, well. Seems like somebody’s feeling bad about badmouthing me. Nice. And deserved, by the way. That whole can’t-stand-the-sight-of-each-other thing we’ve got going on? He started it.

“Oh wow. So that’s a thing now, huh?” Ari says, and her hands go still where she’s tightening her ponytail while her eyes sweep over me. I mean Gabriel. Gabriel, who’s currently me.

I really hope she’s not checking me out. I mean, checking Gabriel out. I mean, it’s technically me? But it’s Gabriel in there, which would make the whole situation even more disturbing than it already is.

But no. She’s just curious, it seems. Also, I now remember the whole husband and kids part, so no, she’s not checking me out. She does seem exceedingly curious though, which in turn means I’m now dying to know exactly what Gabriel has told her about me that makes her stare at me like that.

“So… yeah,” I say, trying to fill the silence. “This is .” I nod at… myself. “ua.” My mind’s already working, trying to figure out how to approach this to get some information out of Ari. It’s some kind of morbid curiosity that has me dying to know what exactly Gabriel has told his sister about me.

She sends me a strange look. “Yeah, I got it. You sure you’re okay?”

“Peachy.” No, Gabriel would not say peachy. Or would he? No, of course he wouldn’t. If nothing else, the murderous glare he sends my way is a bit of a hint.

Ari’s eyes stay on me for another moment before she shakes her head. “You’re being weird today.”

I think I’d better shut up now. I’m only making things worse by speaking.

“Are you ready for Vermont?”

There’s a moment there when I forget that I’m now Gabriel, and once I do remember, it’s not really better, since I have no idea what she’s talking about. I glance at Gabriel, and he starts to mouth something, but seeing as I haven’t mastered reading somebody’s lips, I can’t decipher what he’s saying.

After a little bit, I give up.

“Umm… yes?” I say.

Not sure that’s the right answer, but since Gabriel is usually on top of things, I figure yes is more likely than no.

“Did you manage to get a rental okay? I was biting my nails already because it’s so last minute, but Jen decided she is coming, and I can’t exactly tell my mother-in-law she’ll have to take the bus.” She shakes her head and throws her hands up. “I swear this divorce of hers is giving me gray hair.”

I take a quick glance at Gabriel. I don’t know who Jen is. With all that glowering Gabriel does he’s going to give my face wrinkles, and still with the goddamn mouthing of words at me. Why the hell does he expect me to be able to read his lips? Dear fuck!

“Uh. I’m sorry?” I offer.

She turns toward me, and her shoulders slump. “Yeah, well. Just prepare yourself. Devon’s dad has a new girlfriend, so Jen is bitter as hell and not willing to hide it. Merry Christmas to all of us.”

I don’t get to answer because Gabriel jumps in.

“It’s fine. All settled. We really have to get going, though,” he says. Way to leave a good first impression of me. Because he’s loud. And curt. And there’s glaring at me involved, which, hello? Not my fault. I didn’t start this conversation, and frankly, if he wanted to avoid me interacting with his family, he should’ve called in sick. My God, I can’t wait for this nightmare to be over already. Just in case, I pinch myself again.

Still nothing.

Then, as if on cue, a thought jumps into my head.

What if this is permanent? What if I can never be myself again? My stomach hollows out. Yeah, okay, it’s not like my life is exceptionally awesome right now, but it’s still my life, and I want it back.

I don’t want to be Gabriel for the rest of my days!

The air feels too thick to breathe, and my heartbeat is so loud that I don’t hear anything else anymore.

I’m a tiny step away from succumbing to the panic when Gabriel’s fingers wrap around my forearm and pull me toward the door.

Once outside, I try to breathe, but it’s still like somebody’s pressed a pillow over my airways. I clutch my sides and lean forward a bit, but that’s not really working.

“Are you going to be sick?” Gabriel demands in that arrogant voice of his, and somehow he manages to come off even more annoying than usual.

“Protect your shoes. They’re like vomit magnets,” I manage to say before I try dropping my head back and staring at the sky.

I just need to calm down a bit, and I’d really prefer it if he wasn’t here to witness me losing my shit.

I expect him to back away, but he doesn’t. Instead, there are fingers around my forearm again, and I’m being led down the street toward a bench. He pushes me down onto it and, after sending the grimy bench a disdainful look, takes a seat next to me.

“Put your head between your legs,” he says sharply, and I bend forward, following the instructions of our very own Mr. Empathy here.

If I have to be Gabriel for the rest of my life, I should probably start taking notes.

How to Be an Insensitive Jerk—lesson one.

Unexpectedly, his palm comes down on my back, and he starts moving it in slow circles. Also unexpectedly, I do manage to take a breath. And then another one.

I keep my head between my knees.

“What if we stay like this forever?” I mutter to the dirty gray concrete between my feet. “Then what?”

Gabriel’s silent for a long moment, his hand still on my back, but still now. Neither of us says a word.

Eventually, Gabriel sighs.

“I guess… I’ll go to med school. Become a surgeon. And then I’ll revolutionize the industry with my innovative face swapping technology. Because rest assured, I’m not going to be you for the rest of my days.”

I close my eyes and snort before I straighten myself up and send him a droll look.

“Oh, good. There’s a plan.”

“At least I have one.” He sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair. My hair. I miss my hair. Would it be weird if I touched it?

Before I can do that, he says, “Speaking of plans, I think we should probably prepare for the worst.”

And there’s that sunshiny attitude that’ll make every problem seem so much worse.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask cautiously.

“This whole situation is extremely unfortunate timing-wise.”

I blink at him. “Are you saying there’s a better time to switch bodies with somebody? Because when? When is the ideal time to have your whole life upended like this? Is there a set list of dates, and I somehow missed the memo?”

“It’s the holidays,” he says pointedly. “I don’t know about you, but this poses a bit of a problem. If we haven’t switched back by tomorrow, I’ll somehow have to show up to Vermont with your face.”

I frown at him. “Why the hell would you have to go to Vermont. You’re not from Vermont.”

“Because that’s the important part right now.”

I press my teeth together so hard my molars start to hurt, otherwise I’ll snap something and we’ll just end up in another argument.

Gabriel seems to realize it too, because eventually, he shakes his head and sighs.

“My parents live in Vermont. They took over the family farm when my grandfather passed, right after I graduated high school. The whole family goes there for Christmas,” he says tightly. “It’s…” He hesitates for a moment. “It’s a big deal, okay? I don’t…” He clamps his mouth shut, but I can see the look of longing that flashes over his face. I’m pretty damn sure he doesn’t mean for me to notice and draw conclusions, but I do and I am. Looks like anti-Christmas Gabriel is actually dying to go celebrate the holidays.

That comes as a surprise. Somehow, after all these years of knowing Gabriel, I’ve never once considered his family. He just seems so robotic that I’ve always told myself he sort of… hatched from a pod.

“Oh.” What an idiotic reaction, but that’s all I’ve got.

Gabriel throws me a look that says he agrees, which makes my goodwill lessen a lot.

“I can’t exactly send you there on your own, now can I?” he continues. “Which poses a bit of a problem. Not to mention you probably have your own plans for Christmas, which I can’t possibly attend by myself.”

Yeah. I’m going to sit at home and make a Christmas dinner for one before I settle in on the couch and flip through channels. Riveting stuff. And then there’s the annual Christmas party… The way I see this, we have exactly two options. Either I go to Vermont, or Gabriel comes with me to my grandparents’ formal Christmas dinner.

And fucking hell, I can’t take him to that thing.

But going to Gabriel’s family? That’s got disaster written all over it.

“Christmas really isn’t that big of a deal for me.” That’s about as specific as I’m going to get with this.

Gabriel stares at me with a deep frown. “Christmas isn’t a big deal for you? You ? Since when?”

“Some of us don’t have huge families and lots of traditions,” I say, in full defensive mode at once. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Well, you do have a family. Besides, you start listening to Christmas songs the moment the calendar hits December first.”

“No, I don’t,” I say indignantly.

“Suuure,” he drawls. “That’s why I’ve spent the last two weeks listening to the faint, muted version of ‘White Winter Hymnal’ echoing from your earbuds.”

“That’s your proof? Please. That’s not even a Christmas song.”

“And yet you only cue it up in December.”

I stare at him. I mean, it’s true, but…

“How would you know? Maybe I listen to it on the beach? Maybe it’s my all-time favorite song? You don’t know me.”

“Uh-huh. And yet I bet I can list every single song on your current Christmas playlist.”

He quirks a brow at me that immediately lights my competitive side on fire. The funny thing is, I’m usually pretty mellow, but that’s probably just because I’ve reserved all my pettiness and competitiveness solely for Gabriel.

“I’ll take that bet. Start listing.”

“Not so fast,” he says. He sounds calm, but I can see that determined spark in his eyes already. “What do I get if I do it?”

Okay, well, Jesus take the wheel, I guess.

“If you win,” I say, “I’ll go to Vermont with you and pretend to be you while I’m there.”

He’s staring at me again. In a little bit, his expression turns suspicious.

“No funny business?”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll give an Oscar-worthy performance.”

He eyes me some more, and I can see him thinking hard before he holds out his hand.

“Deal.”

We shake, and I motion for him to start.

“‘White Winter Hymnal,’” he says.

I give a reluctant nod.

“‘Hallelujah.’”

Another nod.

“‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas.’”

“Lucky guess,” I mutter under my breath.

He ignores me and continues.

“‘All I Want for Christmas Is New Year’s Day.’”

“‘Driving Home for Christmas.’”

“‘2000 Miles.’”

I stop nodding while he just goes on. There’s no point. From the smug look he sends me, he knows he’s winning this easily as he keeps listing the songs. In the exact order they appear on the playlist. I have to get a better pair of earbuds, obviously. Or turn the volume down, at the very least.

“And last but not least, because you have at least five more playlists with some form of the word ‘Christmas’ in the name, ‘Last Christmas.’”

The last time I saw him look so pleased with himself was when we both ran the New York Marathon and he finished three spots ahead of me. That was a painful day.

My shoulders slump, and I give one final resigned nod.

He smirks. “I’ll get you a copy of the family tree.”