Josh

JOSH

The next morning, Gabriel is already awake when I open my eyes. He’s standing in front of the stovetop, poking something in the pan.

There’s some sort of strange disconnect in my brain. It’s me . I can see it. I’m watching myself. It’s my back, my legs, my shoulders, my ass, the back of my head. I know it is.

But I also see Gabriel. It might be my body he’s operating, but the way he does it is one hundred percent him. I don’t think I’ve ever kept my back that straight, for example. Not that I go about my business hunching all the time, but Gabriel acts like somebody’s holding a level against his spine at all times.

I tend to fidget. Gabriel’s movements are precise and measured, like he disapproves of wasting energy on useless motion.

Hell, I’m fidgeting right now, sitting on the bed. And hunching. I carefully straighten my spine. Gabriel’s spine. Otherwise he’s going to accuse me of ruining his posture once he gets his body back, or just generally not treating his body as a temple or some shit. I mean, he clearly does himself.

Okay, cards on the table, I took a peek. By accident! It’s not like I went to perv on him, but you know, you get dressed, you forget yourself, you look down. It happens. Anyway, I knew Gabriel was in good shape, but holy shit is that an understatement.

In shape? No, sir. The guy is ripped . Ripped as in, he probably follows the workout routine and diet plan of Christian Bale during his American Psycho stint. Because, seriously, how the fuck else?—

I’m getting off topic. My point is, there are muscles on his body that have never been visible on mine. Or maybe anybody’s. Might be Gabriel’s discovering new muscles. And now I’m kind of wondering what he thinks of my body. He’s probably not happy with what he got in exchange. I’m not terribly out of shape, but I’m not Gabriel.

Christ, this is so fucking weird! I honestly still haven’t ruled out that I just fell while I was getting out of the shower and am now lying in my bathroom, in a coma, having a very elaborate coma dream, so all of this is happening inside my head.

Not that there’s anything I can do about it. I mean, I’ve tried to pinch myself, but that clearly hasn’t worked. So yeah, medical science, I’ve conducted some research and can now safely say you can’t pinch your way out of a coma. You’re welcome. You can send the Nobel Prize over any time.

Anyway, since I have no idea what to do or how to solve this situation, I guess I’m just gonna go along with it, see what happens, and hope for the best.

Gabriel looks up when he hears me move, and for a moment, he freezes. I’m talking completely still like a statue. His eyes widen for a second, then go back to their usual size, and his gaze returns to its usual dispassionate, cool state.

Weird.

But less weird than everything else, so I’m gonna let it go.

“You’re up,” he says.

Again, my voice, my body, my everything, but I’m not freaking out about it. It doesn’t feel like I’m talking to myself; more like I’ve somehow acquired a twin twenty-five years after birth. I guess this is my brain’s way of dealing with this mess without losing it.

I’ll take it.

“That’s what people do in the morning. Unless you wanted me to die during the night so you could wear my skin from now on.”

“Technically, it’s my skin.”

I climb out of bed and head to the bathroom.

“It’s like admitting you have a paring knife ready to go,” I say over my shoulder.

“I’m always prepared,” he calls after me.

I do my business as quickly as possible and avoid looking at anything too much or for too long.

When I step out of the bathroom and into the kitchen nook, Gabriel pushes a plate of breakfast in front of me. It contains a lot of spinach, which is something that goes against all human decency. Spinach. In the morning! I buy spinach with the express intent of having it in my fridge so I can feel good about myself. It’s there so I know I have good intentions, but I’m never going to actually eat it.

Seems those plans have changed a bit.

I swallow a sigh and a complaint, pick up the fork, and dig in. After a few bites, I’m forced to concede that it’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be. Not that I’m ever going to admit it to Gabriel.

“Thanks for making breakfast,” I mumble.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind cooking. Better eat up. We have a long road trip ahead.”

Ah, yes. The family Christmas awaits. Preceded by six hours in the car with Gabriel. Once we’re done, I do the dishes and Gabriel dries them. We don’t speak, so there are no insults to break the domestic vibe. It’s… weird.

“Suitcase?” Gabriel says once we’re done.

I drag it out of the hallway closet and put it down on the dresser. I put my hands on my hips and turn to face him.

“What am I packing?”

“You’re not packing. I’m packing,” he says as he comes to stand next to me.

“What? Why?”

“I’m wearing this stuff for the next few days, so I get to decide.”

“Uh, it’s my body, and these are my clothes.”

“That I’m going to wear,” he points out with that infuriating level of stubbornness.

I’d argue, but you know what? Whatever.

I watch him go through my clothes and meticulously pack them in my suitcase. He rolls the socks and underwear. It’s like watching Marie Kondo in action, only I’d wager Gabriel is even more anal.

“It’s a family Christmas. Do you really need five pairs of slacks for this?” I ask.

He stills, hands in the air above the suitcase, a stack of clothes in them. “I like slacks.”

“And I like jeans and T-shirts and sweats. It’s what my body is used to.” I raise my hands. “But whatever. If you want to risk me breaking out in hives from all the formal clothes you’re going to force onto my body, go ahead.”

He slams the lid of the suitcase shut and sends me a smile that’s all teeth. “I’ll take my chances.”

“You do you,” I say, determined to get the last word. He just shrugs, picks up the suitcase, and heads for the door.

That last word was a lot less satisfying than I was hoping.

We pick up the rental car and head to Gabriel’s place, which turns out to be a nondescript apartment building in Queens. He herds me into a rickety elevator, and it groans and squeaks its way upstairs, where it opens into a tired-looking hallway.

Gabriel unlocks one of the doors and holds it open for me. Everything’s quiet, so I guess nobody’s home. There’s a row of shoes neatly lined up on one side of the hallway and a row of hooks on the other wall with coats and jackets. Some of those shoes are really small. Same goes for some of those jackets.

“Those are some tiny roommates you have,” I say.

I get a curt “Yes” as an answer.

I glance at the row of shoes.

“How many do you have?”

“Is it important?”

“I’m you. I should probably know these things,” I point out.

He gives me a look filled with reluctance before he seems to decide I’m right about that. “I live with Ari, her husband, and their kids. I rent their spare room, so they get some extra cash, and I have a place to live that I can actually afford.”

Gabriel has already walked down the hallway and pushed one of the doors open when I catch up with him.

His bedroom is small and meticulously neat. There’s a bed, a dresser, and a desk. The bookshelf next to the desk is organized to death. I recognize the spines of textbooks from college. The lower shelves are more interesting because those seem to be fiction. It’s an eclectic collection. From thrillers to fantasy to sci-fi to some classics like Charles Dickens and Hemingway.

When I’m done inspecting his shelves, I turn around, only to see him with a suitcase that’s already half-full.

“Hey!” I say. “I thought I got to pack the clothes because I’m going to be the one wearing them?”

“It’s my family, so I can’t show up there looking not like myself, can I?”

I’d argue, but what are the chances he even has any normal clothes? Low. I’d just be wasting my breath and energy. I leave him to do his thing and snoop some more instead. I pull open the desk drawers and look inside.

“Go ahead,” Gabriel says dryly and pointedly. “I don’t mind you invading my privacy at all.”

I send him a toothy grin and pull open the next drawer. “That’s nice of you.”

He folds a button-down so bright white that it hurts to look straight at it into the suitcase.

“What are you hoping to find?” he asks in an exasperated voice when I pull the third drawer open. I look up from my inspection.

“I didn’t expect to find anything, but now that you’ve asked it like that, hope has been restored. Do you keep a diary, by any chance?”

“Do I look like somebody who keeps a diary?”

“Is that a trick question? Uh, yeah, you do. You look exactly like somebody who’d keep a diary and painstakingly write down everything .” I pretend to click a pen. “Dear diary. Today I had plain white rice and one boiled chicken breast for lunch. Note to self: Next time skip the chicken. No need to get too adventurous.”

“It’s like you’re living inside my head.”

“I am living inside your head.” I tap my index finger against my temple. Gabriel’s temple.

“Don’t remind me.”

The desk drawers are a bust. There’s nothing in them that reveals some new side of Gabriel, just loads of paper, notebooks, documents, pens, pencils, and mundane personal items you can find in anybody’s house.

I’m contemplating going for the nightstand next, but that actually does feel like an invasion of privacy.

That’s when my phone starts to ring in my pocket. I dig it out and glance at the screen.

It’s not really surprising that it’s Beth. She’s the kind of lunatic who still calls people for some reason.

“I’ll wait outside,” I tell Gabriel, then put the phone to my ear without waiting for his reply.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep right now?” I ask.

There’s a long pause, during which I have enough time to pull the phone away from my ear and frown at the display.

“Hello?” I say.

“ ? ” Beth sounds a bit hesitant, which is not something she’s known for.

“Who else would it be?”

“ You sound weird. ”

Oh shit. Right.

I give an exaggerated cough and then lower my voice to an almost whisper. “Sore throat.”

“ I keep telling you scarves are a thing in the winter. ”

“Scarves make me look like an artsy fart.”

“ Unlike vanity, which will kill you. ”

“How’s New Zealand? And isn’t it the middle of the night for you? Why are you still up?”

“ Jet lag. They say you shouldn’t sleep, so I didn’t, and now I’m overtired. Where are you? It’s really noisy. ”

“On the street outside of Gabriel’s place.”

There’s a short pause while Beth digests that. “ What are you doing at Gabriel’s? ”

The truth is not happening, obviously. I lean my back against the wall of the building. “It’s a long story. I’m going to Vermont with him.”

“ Be honest, is he holding you at gunpoint right now? Blink twice for yes. ”

“And then what? You’re gonna send evil thoughts his way?”

“ It’s the least I can do. ”

“Your loyalty is admirable and appreciated.”

“ Just keep it in mind for when you start feeling stabby. ”

“I’ve been nothing but civil,” I protest.

She laughs long and hard at that on the other side of the world.

“ Sure, babe. ”

My shoulders slump, and I make a face. “Would it kill him to be less annoying?”

“ I’m gonna venture a guess and say the feeling is entirely mutual. I’m sure whatever annoying thing he said, your response was polite and measured. ”

“Definitely. Mostly. I was late and wet and out of breath, but I wasn’t too bad. You know what? Enough about me. How’s Tim? How’s his family?”

“ He’s good, and his family’s been very nice so far. His cousin did accuse me of stealing Tim away from them, but I’m pretty sure that was a joke. Why are you going to Vermont with Gabriel? ”

“We switched bodies, and then I lost a bet.”

Beth snorts on the other end of the line. “ Good one. ”

“I swear, it’s the truth.”

“ Fine. Keep your secrets. And try not to murder Gabriel in his sleep. ”

“I make no promises.”

She yawns loudly and groans. “ I should go to bed. I think I might be able to catch some sleep now. ”

“Have fun on your trip.”

“ I’ll do my best. Talk later. ”

I hang up and smile at the phone, and then I wait until Gabriel comes out the front door.

“Done?” he asks with an unreadable expression and an equally unreadable tone.

“Are you?” I ask, but I can already see the black suitcase at his feet, neatly zipped up.

He looks down for a second before he meets my gaze again.

“Ready to do this?”

I blow out a breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

We’re both silent on our way out of the city. And we only argue once during those forty-five minutes, which is probably our personal best.

We don’t make it to minute forty-six.

“Car snacks,” I repeat doggedly for the fifth time. “You can’t take me on a road trip and not give me snacks. Are you even human? Besides, I’m starving.”

“You just had breakfast,” he says, exasperated again, which is the natural state of things for him when he’s near me.

“Two hours ago. If you don’t get a constant stream of snacks in me when I’m in a car, I’ll get cranky.”

He sighs. “Are you three?”

“My body needs sugar.”

“It’s my body, so that’s bullshit.”

“And caffeine.”

He sighs and pulls into a gas station. I hop out of the car and head inside, Gabriel on my heels like a disapproving shadow as he watches me grab a basket and start loading snacks into it. I can’t help it. There’s just something about eating junk food when in a car that feels right.

I hum along to “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” as it plays through the overhead speakers and throw a large pack of Christmas gummy bears into the basket, where it settles in nicely among the beef jerky, pretzels, and bottles of soda.

“Do you want anything?” I turn around and shake a bag of potato chips in front of Gabriel.

He eyes the bag with disdain. “It’s barely eleven and those are full of sodium.”

I study the bag for a moment, then throw that in the basket too. “I know. That’s the best part.”

“I’ll have trail mix,” he says.

I make a face at him. “Why?”

He picks up a bag. The kind that doesn’t have candy in it.

“It’s good for you,” he says.

I pluck the bag out of his fingers and throw it back on the shelf.

“It’s the holidays,” I say. “Live a little.”

“By foregoing all that sugar and trans fats I’ll live a lot.”

I press my lips together, count to ten, and lecture myself to keep smiling. “What’s your favorite candy?”

He lets out a deep sigh. “Can we just go already?”

“I’m not moving until you tell me.”

For the next three minutes we engage in a silent stare-off until he glances at his watch and curses under his breath.

“Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups,” he says.

I grin at him and head back to the candy isle.

“Ooh! They have the Christmas tree ones here.” I show him the package, and he stares at me, the muscle in his jaw ticking. I shake the candy in front of his face. “Come on. You know you want to. The shaped ones have even more peanut butter in them, so they’re extra tasty.”

He throws me a sour look, grabs the packet, and drops it in the basket.

I hide my smile and head to the counter.

A few minutes later, we’re back in the car. I open the bag of potato chips and offer them to him. His eyes get stuck on them for a moment. Then he swallows. And takes some.

I hide another smile and resist gloating.

“Okay,” I say, mouth full of chips. “Lay it on me. What do I have to know to pull this off? Educate me on all things Gabriel García.”

I expect a long lecture that’s perfectly structured and outlined. Hell, half of me expects him to have slides printed out with key points on them, and the other half is pretty sure he’s going to make me take copious notes. Like a psycho.

Instead, Gabriel is silent.

Minutes tick by.

I lift my hand and wave it in front of his face. “Hello? Anybody in there?”

In response, he pulls over to the side of the road to a loud chorus of blaring car horns. I clutch the oh shit bar and hold on for dear life. Once the car stops, I pry my fingers loose and blow out a breath.

“Well,” I eventually say. “Death is imminent. Thanks for clearing that up.”

“Fuck!” he snaps and drags both his hands through his hair. “This is about as stupid an idea as there is. What the hell was I thinking? We can’t do this. Nobody in their right mind will believe I’m you and you’re me. It’s not going to work. What the fucking hell were we thinking?”

He turns to look at me like he expects an answer, but I’m a bit speechless because this isn’t the Gabriel I know. Never once in all the years I’ve known him have I seen him lose his cool. Not when we were accidentally locked in the auditorium of our high school during a heat wave. Not when he sliced open his arm during wood shop and there was blood pouring out of the wound. Not when one of the lacrosse players collapsed unconscious in the middle of the game in PE class, and the teacher froze in panic. Gabriel just pulled out his phone, called 911, and matter-of-factly started CPR like it was some regular occurrence for him.

“Do you want to go back?” I ask.

He clutches the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. “Kind of have to. It’s the one remotely sane course of action.”

“Sure.” I nod. “But do you want to?”

He sends me an incredulous look. “What does that have to do with anything?”

I turn so I’m facing him and ignore the fact that we’re basically parking on the side of a freeway, and the last time I checked it was, like, super illegal. But emotional meltdowns don’t ask for a time and a place, so here we are.

“Here’s the deal,” I say. “You want to go home for Christmas, and you want to be with your family. Don’t even deny it. You’re not the impenetrable wall of ice in this case. I know you want to go, so here are our options. You either text your family that you’ve caught an unfortunate stomach bug and can’t make it, after which they’ll be disappointed and you’ll be all depressed, we go back to my place, where you’ll inevitably be a pain in the fucking ass about the whole thing, which then, in turn, will mean that our chances at figuring a way out of this epic mess we’re in diminish even more. With me so far?”

He stares at me for a moment before he gives a slow nod.

“Or,” I continue, “we go to Vermont where you get to spend the holidays with your family, even if it’s not in the way you imagined it would be, but going as me is pretty much the only shot you have at seeing them this Christmas. Unless a semitruck plows into us from behind and we both head toward the light, but then figure, nah, some other time, ignore the light, go back to earth and jump back into our own respective bodies.”

He stares at me some more before he clamps the bridge of his nose between his fingers and starts rubbing it.

“Holy mother of god,” he mutters.

I hold both my hands up. “I’m just the messenger.”

“So my choices are depression or a potentially deadly car accident?”

“The latter is starting to seem more likely.” I wince as another horn blares.

Gabriel blinks and looks around like he’s just now realizing where we are.

“Shit!” He flicks on the turn signal and pulls back into traffic.

I’m not sure if he’s planning to turn around or not.

“If you went home and behaved not quite like yourself, then sat your family down and told them you’re being weird because you’ve in fact somehow managed to switch bodies with somebody else, what would they do?”

He throws me a quick glance before he turns his attention back to the road. “I’m not sure, but I’m guessing I’d be looking at an express ride to the ER for a psych evaluation.”

“Sounds like a reasonable guess,” I say. “Here’s the thing; even if I don’t manage to pull off behaving exactly like you, they’ll most likely just shrug it off. Unless I do something completely crazy.”

He throws me another look, but this time he’s almost smiling as he quirks a brow at me. “Do we put it past you?”

I press my palm to my chest, right where my heart is. “I promised no funny business. I take that seriously. Also, think about it for a second. We’ve known each other for a loooong time. Excessively long, if you ask me. Really, it feels like eons.” He sends me one of his sardonic looks, and I bite back a smile. If he can look at me like that, it means he’s getting back to his normal self.

“I digress,” I say. “My point is, like it or not, we know each other. Maybe not on a deep, personal level, but I’ve seen you in action when we’re at school, so I think I can pull off being you for a few days, and if it’s not a perfect impression of you, well, later you can blame that one time I almost smiled on being overcome with emotion because your holiday spirits got a bit out of control.” I finish the tirade and blow out a big breath. “But it’s your decision. It’s your family, after all.”

He stays silent for a while, but he also drives past an exit, which means we’re still headed for Vermont. I think?

Eventually, he throws a glance my way and purses his lips for a moment before he says, “There’s five of us. I’m the middle child.”

For a moment, I don’t think I heard him correctly, so I end up gaping at him with my mouth open.

“I’m sorry. You said there’s five of you?”

He chuckles. It’s really fucking weird to see myself light up like this.

“Ari—short for Ariana—Leo, then me, Jackson, and Ash,” he says.

Wow. Four siblings. That’s…

He’s so fucking lucky. By the sound of it, he really loves them, too. I wonder how it feels to have so many people in your corner.

“I know. It’s a lot.” There’s a cautious edge to his voice. Kind of like he expects me to be somehow disparaging about the fact that there’s so many of them.

“It’s great!” I blurt and feel my face heat at the outburst. “I mean, I assume. I’m an only child. I guess that’s kind of the thing to do when you’re the only one, right? Wish for a sibling. I’m guessing you didn’t have to do that.”

He sends me another side-eyed look, this one curious. I can relate. For all the time we’ve spent together at school over the years, we don’t really know that much about each other’s personal lives.

“Yeah. It’s nice,” he says cautiously.

There are a few beats of silence and neither of us seems to know what to say. Most of our interactions during the last decade have been insult-based, so this is unexpectedly magnanimous. Maybe that’s too generous of a term. Civil. Yeah. That. This is unexpectedly civil.

I clear my throat. “Okay, well. Tell me all about them.”

Mostly I figured it’d be like preparing for a test in a subject that doesn’t really interest you. I’m good at memorizing stuff, so I wasn’t worried about whether I could, but I wasn’t exactly expecting to be invested. But all of a sudden, I’m curious about this family I don’t know, but that expects me to be their son and their brother.

Gabriel starts cautiously.

“Ari is the oldest. You already met her. Then there’s Le—” He stops speaking for a moment and nods toward the back seat. “Can you get my backpack?”

I reach out, find the strap, and tug the backpack onto the front seat.

“There’s a family photo somewhere in there.”

I rummage around for a little while until I find it and pull it out.

I look at the row of smiling faces in front of me, and there’s a pang in my chest. A stupid feeling of loneliness. I used to have this. Once upon a time. So long ago that it feels more like a very vague dream than anything else. Like an old home movie. Grainy and kind of distant.

I blink the memory away and concentrate on Gabriel’s family instead. Some of the faces are faintly familiar. I’ve seen at least two of these people in passing during graduations.

“Leo’s the one with glasses.”

“Glasses, Leo. Got it,” I say.

“He’s a bartender in Vegas.”

I file that away while Gabriel takes a quick glance at the photo. “Okay, the one standing next to Leo is Ash. He’s the baby of the family. Still in high school. Last time I checked he was dating a girl named Courtney, but it’s been two weeks, so that might be over by now. The one with the eyebrow piercing is Jackson. Jax. He’s a year younger than me, so we’re closest in age. He lives in Vermont and works on the farm. The woman next to him is Erin, his fiancée. She and I have been friends since kindergarten, and until about the time I was thirteen, I had every intention of marrying her myself. We made a blood pact and everything.”

That statement is accompanied by a self-deprecating smile, and I snort out a laugh.

“What happened?”

“We went back to school after summer vacation. Ian Carter had grown eight inches and gotten into the habit of throwing off his shirt when cooling down after soccer practice.”

“And she figured she’d rather have that Ian person as a future husband?”

“No,” Gabriel says. “I did.”

I grin at him before I shake my head and chuckle.

“I gather it didn’t work out in the end?”

“Turned out he was too straight for me. I should’ve gone for his brother Andy instead. At least he was batting for the same team. But, well—” He shrugs. “—we moved to New York after that, so it cut the already doomed love story short.”

I laugh out loud. He glances at me and smiles, and for a moment, it almost starts to feel like we’re… friends. Or at least on the same side.

I chew over all of that for a little while before I nod. “Okay. I think I got it all. What about your mother and father?”

I look at the older couple in the center of the photo. I’ve seen them before too, but it’s been a long while. They were there for a few science fairs and plays in middle school. Gabriel skipped our high school graduation, and I skipped the college commencement ceremony.

“Julie and Marco. Mom and Dad own a berry farm.”

“Really?” I ask. In my head, I picture Gabriel’s parents as older versions of him, and for the life of me, I cannot picture Gabriel farming anything.

“They took over from my grandfather. They love it up here. Always have.”

I tilt my head to the side and study his profile. “How did you all end up in New York, then?”

“There was a wildfire in our part of the state. It tore through the farm and destroyed almost everything. Our insurance refused to cover it. My parents sued, but the court case took so long that they had no way to make a living on the farm. Dad had a friend in the city, and he offered him a job. We’ve been all working our asses off to restore and rebuild ever since.”

All this information is a bit overwhelming. Kind of like cramming for an exam at the last minute, which is a pretty accurate comparison seeing that in only a few hours I’ll be playing Gabriel in front of the whole García family.

We really are insane.

“What did you say to your parents about me coming with you?” I ask.

He takes a glance my way again and clears his throat, but he doesn’t say anything, suddenly looking sort of nervous.

“Gabriel?” I say before a thought hits. “Oh God, you did tell them I was coming, right? You’re not going to spring me on them? Because you’re me, and that means if I just bring a random dude with me I’m going to be the one who needs to tell them something about you, so what do I even say?”

“They know I’m bringing you with me,” Gabriel says, and I relax a bit.

“Good.”

Gabriel’s next words come so quickly I don’t think I hear him correctly at first.

“Theythinkwe’redating.”

I raise my brows at him.

“Come again?”

He clears his throat once more, eyes firmly on the road.

“There’s a possibility they think we’re dating,” he says a bit slower, so at least I can distinguish the words this time. The meaning of said words takes a little time to hit, though.

“What?”

Gabriel winces. “I sent a message to our family chat to tell them I’m bringing a friend with me. Ari opened her big, fat mouth about me not spending the night at home, and they all just ran with it. By the time they were done… coming up with whatever they were coming up with, I’d kind of given up arguing.”

“Okay?” I say slowly. “So what does that mean for this visit?”

“Nothing. I mean, it gives me a legitimate reason to stick to you like glue, I guess,” he says grimly.

I press my palm to my chest. “The reluctance in your voice is what will really sell it.”

He winces again. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

I wave him off. “Doesn’t matter. So tentatively, we’re a couple, then.” I mull it over a bit. I don’t want to admit it, but I guess credit where credit is due. “I’ll bring out my best pet names, schmoopie.”

He snorts. Snorts once more. And then starts to laugh out loud. Somehow, seeing myself laugh makes things feel more manageable, as unhinged as it sounds.

After a little while, he rubs his face and shakes his head. “We’re not going to confirm anything. Then we won’t be lying or anything, but if they tell themselves we’re dating, it’ll make sense why we’d want to spend every moment together.”

“Sure,” I say. And hell, why not, right? This coma dream is really going off the rails, so what the fuck, let’s throw a relationship in, too. What could go wrong?

“Oh, wait.” I suddenly remember something. “Your sister, she knew me. She said the . What exactly have you told them about me?”

“Nothing,” he says, way too quickly.

“Very believable. Come on. I won’t be offended. Just lay it on me, so I know how much damage control I have to do here. If they think I’m the antichrist, this potential relationship isn’t going to seem the least bit believable, and they’ll just end up thinking I——I mean, the real . I mean me in my own body.” I blow out a breath. “They’ll just be thinking is blackmailing Gabriel or something.”

Gabriel sends me an unimpressed look. “Now who’s overcomplicating this?”

“This is not exactly putting my mind at ease.”

His fingers tighten on the steering wheel for a moment before he relaxes them.

“You might’ve come up in conversation once or twice over the years,” he finally says. Reluctantly. Oh, joy. This should be good, then.

“This bodes well.”

He blows out a breath and keeps his eyes firmly on the road. “It’s not like that,” he mutters, but then instead of explaining what’s it not like, he just clamps his mouth shut.

“Care to elaborate?”

“It’s not important. They know we went to school together, and that’s about it.”

I lean back in my seat. “You know, for the first time, I think I might be kind of glad I’m not me. Because if you’ve preemptively made them hate me, it’s you who has to deal with it. Oh! Karma is real!”

In response, he just rolls his eyes.

Another mile passes by while I flip through radio stations.

“Can you just pick a song and let it play?” Gabriel asks after I’ve switched the station for the sixth time.

“No,” I say cheerfully.

“Why?”

“What if there’s something better somewhere else?”

“Maybe put on a playlist, then? Something of your own so you know you like everything that’s on it.”

“But what if one of these stations is playing my new favorite song?”

He closes his eyes for a second and blows out another breath. I switch the station one last time just on principle before I take mercy on him and dig out my phone. I flip through my choices for a little while.

“You can play your Christmas one,” Gabriel says. “There isn’t a more appropriate time than this right here.”

That’s all the encouragement I need. After I’ve put it on, I sit back again and open the bag of gummy bears. I pop a few in my mouth and hold them out to Gabriel. He hesitates for a moment before he takes some. We share the snacks for a while, and I almost start to feel relaxed. Good, even.

“Tell me about your family,” he says, then.

Five words, and the relaxed feeling becomes a thing of the past.

“Why?” I sound defensive, and I don’t like it.

Gabriel sends me a strange look.

“I’m you ,” he says pointedly. “If somebody asks me about anything personal, I probably should be able to provide them with an answer, don’t you think?”

I swallow and look away for a moment.

Get it together, ua.

I force myself to laugh. “Oh. Right. Makes sense.”

“So?” he says after a second. “Give me the basics.”

“I figure you already know the basics?” I say. “There’s me and…” My voice dies away. I’m not really sure how much Gabriel knows about this part. It happened a long time ago, but I guess it might’ve come up with somebody over the years. I clear my throat. “I was raised by my grandparents. Mom and Dad died when I was nine.”

He sends me a quick look out of the corner of his eye.

“I know about the accident. I remember. It was all over the news at the time. I’m sorry.”

I nod because that’s what you do.

I say, “Thank you.” Because that’s what you do.

“What about your grandparents?” Gabriel asks after a little bit. “Tell me about them.”

“There’s not much to tell. My grandmother is a supreme court judge. My grandfather builds luxury yachts. They each have their charity work and other commitments.” I shrug. “They’re very busy people.”

I can feel his eyes on the side of my face.

“What are they doing for the holidays?”

“Dinners and parties with friends. They have an annual holiday gala on the twenty-seventh.”

He sends me a long look. “We should make it back by then.”

“Yeah. I guess we’ll play it by ear and see what’s up,” I say evasively.

“You don’t have a family gathering on Christmas Eve? Or Day?”

“Nope.”

I swallow down the need to defend my holiday plans. It’s entirely possible to have a nice holiday by yourself. I usually go to Beth’s house for Christmas dinner. Her parents are divorced but insist on celebrating the holidays together, and inevitably, every year, right around the time the plates have been filled, they’ll get into an argument about something inconsequential and stupid, which will then escalate. I go there mostly for moral support for Beth. And her mother makes a mean Baked Alaska. Honestly, the whole thing’s not very Christmassy, but it’s what I’ve got. The alternative would be to sit at home alone.

Which is sort of what I did last year, because that was the year Tim surprised Beth with a trip, and they went to a cabin in Wyoming for the holidays. They both asked me to come along, but they were in that newly in love stage, and being a third wheel didn’t sound like an awesome time.

Gabriel sends me another long look, and I take a deep breath. It better not be pity on his face. I’m fine with how things are, and if he’s going to pity me, it’s just gonna make me feel bad about being fine, which would ruin everything.

Luckily, he looks thoughtful more than anything. I guess I’ll take it.

“No extended family?” he asks instead. “Aunts? Uncles? Cousins?”

“I mean, there are all sorts of distant and less distant relatives, but we’re not close.”

“Okay,” Gabriel says, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief that he doesn’t poke.

When my parents were still alive, Christmas was a big thing. We used to be one of those families with a ton of traditions. And by ‘we’ I mean me, my mom, and my dad. Mom had a falling-out with my grandparents when she met my father. From the tidbits I’ve gathered over the years there were three main problems with him for my grandparents: he was too poor, too radical in all his views, and too married.

I don’t know how it all went down exactly, but I never knew my grandparents until the day my mom and dad died in a car crash, when I was sent to live with them.

They didn’t expect to have to raise me, they’ve never quite figured out what to do with me or how to feel about me, and I’ve spent fourteen years trying not to disappoint.

It is what it is.

And it’s high time to stop thinking about this.

“How did we end up in a relationship?” I ask.

Gabriel sends me a startled look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if your family knows you don’t like me, how did we end up maybe dating?”

He opens his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he glances at me again, then closes his mouth.

Well, well, well. Guess the great Gabriel García doesn’t have all the answers.

“At work,” he finally says.

“Lucky us. How long have we been together?”

He’s stumped again.

I tut. “You really should know these things about your boyfriend. Otherwise you’ll miss our anniversary, and I might get dramatic.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“No.” I shake my head with a smirk. “I’m enjoying this just the right amount. The fact that it’s a lot is just a happy coincidence.”

“Great,” he mutters. “I guess we’ve possibly been together a couple of months?”

“And now you’re introducing your boyfriend to your family for the first time during the holidays. That’s a lot of pressure. I don’t envy you. And you have to make them like me. Oh, this is awesome.” My grin widens. I should’ve gotten myself stuck in Gabriel’s body way sooner, because he’s right—I am enjoying this. A lot. Way more than I ever expected.

“And don’t worry,” I add. “I already have a great story in mind about how you realized I was the one for you and decided to woo me.”

He sends me a gloomy look, but I ignore it.

“You know, I’m really looking forward to this.” I lean back in my seat.

“Yay,” he deadpans.