rose

Was it intimidation, perhaps? Your family rolled their eyes whenever you ranted about women’s inequality, but it was true! It wouldn’t be the first time that a male classmate acted out because they couldn’t accept that you were smarter than them. It was a shame to think that Angus could be the same way, but you didn’t know the guy very well. Who was to say?

Both being English majors and juniors, Angus was a familiar face around campus. The university was on the smaller side, so you became closely acquainted with almost all of your classmates. You had even made your first best friend at school: Sally Wyman, who sat next to you in English 101, was most passionate about Medieval English literature, and whose favorite book was, mindbogglingly, Beowulf. It was nice to have a small cohort, but it had its downsides as well: people that you didn’t like were inescapable. Angus was in every class, every semester, and popped up at every get together and study session. The two of you brushed shoulders constantly, much to your chagrin. 

It was the Fall of ‘72 when he first caught your eye. He sat in front of you in the lecture hall of your American Literature course, and quickly became a sort of celebrity. Angus was outspoken, smart, witty, constantly raising his hand. Not all were fond of him, and occasionally an annoyingly heated debate about the writing of Kerouac would have everyone yelling at him to  shut up. But even this didn’t deter your crush on him; his passion in class was motivating and aspirational. You knew you were smart, but you rarely had the confidence to speak up like him. Knowledge seemed to get wedged and stuck in the corners of your mouth, but flow endlessly out of your pen. Maybe if you had an assignment or essay to turn in then your professors would recognize your talents, but most classes were just hours upon hours of lecturing. Angus’ constant participation proved that he was not only smart, but self-assured, unafraid. You wanted to be like him.

Okay. Maybe the crush was helped by the fact that he was extremely cute, too. During particularly boring lessons, you found yourself lost in the mess of dark hair that made up the back of his head. You wanted to trace the C-shaped curls on the nape of his neck, the small freckles that dotted the pale column of his throat. If you stretched your arms, you would be able to run your hands over the expanse of his broad shoulders, smooth the wrinkled shirt collar beneath his sweaters. Even his sideburns, which would have you rolling your eyes on anyone else, left you in awe. He was stylish; a grown, masculine departure of the boys of your high school.

There was a time where you truly believed that Angus Tully could be the man of your dreams. How foolish you had been.

It was later in that Fall of ‘72 that the illusion cracked, and you saw Angus for who he really was. You were both in Professor Hilbert’s class: Introduction to Creative Writing. The final was a workshop to share with your classmates and receive feedback in return. Everyone had to write a minimum of 10 pages, and have it printed and shared among the class a week before.

You worked anxiously on your story: a tale about a woman whose paranoia and fear of being stalked by her neighbors climaxes into a manic murder-suicide. It was meant to explore and comment on mental illness, motherhood and the perception of women’s hysteria. The idea had been rolling around in your mind for months before the assignment, and you were excited for the chance to finally execute it. You knew that you were by no means the most gifted writer in the class, but you were proud of the work, and expected for it to be positively received.

Angus Tully had completely shattered your dreams. His critique was cutting and brutal: the language was flowery but shallow, your metaphors were nonsensical, and the pacing was all over the place. 

“They say that good artists create, and great ones steal. I’m not sure if that was the framework you used when writing this, but all I could think was that you wanted to make an edgier version of Rosemary’s Baby. I mean, some of the dialogue was ripped right from the movie,” he said, leaned back in his chair with crossed arms.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to remain calm. “I’ve never seen that film,” you admitted. “If there are parallels, it’s all just coincidence.”

The girl sitting next to Angus stifled a laugh, brushing her hair over her shoulder. Tracy Bellevue, if you remembered correctly. “To be honest, I have to agree with Angus on a lot of the critiques. Women’s liberation fiction is getting popular, and this just seems like a chance to cash in. It just felt a little uninspired.” He looked at her with a smirk, and she smiled back. You wanted to melt into a puddle.

By the time you took your seat, it felt like all the passion for writing had been vacuumed out of you, leaving a deflated silhouette of a person behind. Passion was reignited as soon as you had finished re-reading Angus’ piece, however. He had the audacity to call you a thief, when his was nothing more than a Catcher in the Rye rip-off? You refused to let him get away with this, and told him as much when it was time to give feedback. 

“Your admiration for J.D. Salinger is evident, Angus, but I think the story would have benefitted greatly from a protagonist that was more than a Holden Caulfield copycat.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Excuse me? This character was based on my own experiences, which lots of teenagers have gone through. Just because your story was creatively bankrupt doesn’t mean that you can get mad and say the same thing to me.”

“I’m sorry?” you huffed, ready to annihilate the man in front of you. You were being nice before, but if he wanted to stoop low, you would go there. Hilbert stepped in before you could however, reminding the two of you that only constructive criticism was allowed for the workshop. It was embarrassing to have your piece torn to shreds by Angus and Tracy of all people, but even more so to be scolded by the professor. The two of you left class an hour later silently nursing the wounds, and igniting a bitter rivalry. 

Maybe the two of you could have come back from that workshop with apologies and a clean slate, but it was Angus who had pushed it further. Just two weeks after the incident, Sally had skipped into class asking why you hadn’t come to Angus’ birthday party that previous weekend. You stared at her for a few seconds in disbelief, before sheepishly admitting that you hadn’t been invited, or even knew there was a party being thrown.

How the news had managed to evade you, you didn’t know. But Angus knew that you and Sally were close; and he still didn’t offer you even a pity invite? It stung, and felt isolating. What was up his ass, anyway? Did you do something to make him hate you? Why else would he have been so critical of your story in the first place? Most people in the class seemed to have enjoyed it. Even Professor Hilbert had given you written praise upon returning your story back.

Fuck that guy. You had worked your ass off to be at this school, and Angus Tully thought he was all that? He was just another rich kid who thought that being rude meant that he was smarter than everyone else. What struggle had he ever experienced, fancying himself to be a Holden Caulfield for the modern age? It made you sick. That stupid smirk, that obnoxious height, his full lips, warm brown eyes… You hated the fact that you still found him handsome. You wished that you could picture him with the physical manifestations of his hideous soul, but to no avail. 

Since that workshop, not a semester, class or study session could go by without the two of you at each other's throats, trying to one-up the other at every opportunity. And even now, he thought that he could walk into class 20 minutes late, after just having shamed you for being late last week, and you wouldn’t say anything. 

Angus gave you a glance as he passed by your seat, making his way to the back row, to which you raised your wrist and tapped your watch. Maybe you saw his look turned into a glare, but you were focused on the lesson. Trying to, at least.

The sound of laughter and conversation erupted immediately after class ended, with people standing up and stretching their legs after hours of being seated. You took your time gathering your things, not ready to brave the cutting winter air outside, or endure another two hours of lectures. Getting out of bed was agonizing this semester, nevermind actually going to class. 

Skipping was a nasty habit that you’d been fighting for years, but this semester was starting to grind you down. It was the first time since you came to school that you felt true defeat and disinterest in your education. The only reason you had come into today was knowing that you and Sally could pass notes about her most recent date, and she hadn’t even shown up. It was lonely on days without her, and you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy seeing your classmates making plans without you. Ignoring the chatter around you was easy, and your consciousness was beginning to tiredly degrade back into autopilot mode.

A shadow cut through the scruffed grain of your table. You looked up to see Angus, wrapped in a thick red scarf and backpack hung off a single shoulder, waiting for you to notice him. He was, notably, alone. Usually he didn’t go anywhere without his little group of friends trailing behind him, and you glanced curiously around the room to see where they were. You spotted them, your classmates Max, Brian and Tracy, all walking out of the door, and all staring your way as they did. Tracy’s look could have turned you to stone. It was very rare for them to leave Angus behind.

“Yes?” you asked uncertainly, standing to put your coat on, preparing to go on the defensive.

“A bunch of us are going to Squeaky Boot after Johnson’s class later. You should come with.”

A few seconds of silence passed, while you scrambled to think of a response. Hopefully your calm face didn’t reflect the sudden panic he had just instilled in you. An invitation to the bar? Of all the things he could have said to you, that was the least expected. You stood, mouth slightly agape and wishing to stop time. “But it’s Monday,” was all you could come up with.

He didn’t miss a beat. “So?”

That was difficult to argue with. Eye contact was suddenly painful, and you inspected the line of his jaw instead, dotted with stubble that you wanted to reach out and smooth your thumb over. Damn your racing heart. 

“Huh. Okay, sounds like fun.” To that, Angus simply nodded and turned to join the rest of the group. He didn’t look back at you as they walked out, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of his fleeting figure the entire time. 

You stood alone in the classroom, bag hanging limply from your hand, trying to think. What was that all about?

---

There were many moments where you almost jumped ship. On your walk to the bar, you stopped about every five minutes, wondering if you should turn around and run home. What was holding you back? A drink would do you some good; any distraction from the mess that the semester was becoming. Sally would probably be there, and you knew the others well enough that it wouldn’t be lonely. You reasoned back and forth with yourself desperately, but it did nothing to ease your anxieties. It actually seemed to be making it worse. By the time you got to the door of the bar, you were shaking from more than just the biting cold.

Fuck this. Nothing to be scared of. Just a casual drink with my peers. Invited by Angus Tully. Fuck. You wrangled the door open against the forceful wind, and slipped into the bar. 

The Squeaky Boot was a popular dive bar near your university, populated by drunken 19 year olds and tired townies. It engulfed you in a warm hug as soon as you stepped inside. Along the walls were framed memorabilia and neon Budweiser signs, slouchy leather booths and wooden tables worn smooth with use. There were multicolored Christmas lights tacked to the ceiling, blinking hazily through cigarette smoke. Your name was called from a far corner of the bar, and you melted in relief at the sight of Sally waving you over to a crowded corner.

“Hey!” you greeted, trying to mask your nerves. She was surrounded by your classmates, who were all talking cheerfully among eachother. Your eyes drifted around the room, looking for a tall, lanky figure. You spotted him a few tables away, back turned to you and clad in the same knit sweater he wore to class. “Where the hell were you earlier? I had to suffer through Shakespeare all by myself.”

She grinned brightly. “What can I say? The date went much better than I expected. Can you blame a girl for maybe sleeping over at his, and maybe getting breakfast with him the next morning?”

You gasped, slapping your hand on the table.“Oh my God, did you really? Did he pay for you, too?”

“Of course he did! It was just Ernie’s diner, but you can’t beat free waffles and coffee.”

You beamed at her, excited to hear more. “Okay, I need to hear all the details. Just let me grab a drink, first.”

Sally nodded, waving you away, and turned to busy herself in another conversation. You envied the way she effortlessly sewed herself into social fabric, sometimes. It wasn’t as easy for you to just step into a group and pick up where they were. It wasn’t like you were lonely, desperate for more friendship, but maybe life would be easier if you were a little more confident.

Your fingers were tapping against the bar counter, waiting for your beer, when someone stepped in beside you. 

“Here’s that PBR you ordered,” the bartender slid the can across the counter, scarcely looking at you before a familiar voice piped up.

“Can you make that two?”

You whipped your head towards the newcomer, face to face with Angus, who had only a lazy eyebrow to raise at you. The moment his velvety brown eyes met yours, your breath caught in your throat.

“Hey, I’m not paying for your beer,” you frowned.

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” he replied, grabbing his own can and handing a couple of bucks to the bartender. You counted the bills as he flipped through them and realized that Angus had just paid for you. Oh.

He had already pushed off the counter and began walking away when you turned around. Words of gratitude died on your tongue as you watched him return to his group, all standing around a tall bistro table. Them, patting his back and him immediately blending in effortlessly. You felt sick with nerves again. You spun back to the bar, fistful of cash on the counter for another two beers and a single shot of vodka. You threw the small glass back, and followed it quickly with your first beer, chugging it before the bartender could even finish handing the new ones over. Tonight, you resolved, you were going to do something.

The look of surprise on Angus’s face when you had tapped on his shoulder made you wish you could snap a photo. His brow, usually set in a firm line, was now raised as you thrust the beer into his chest. 

“Here. Since you left your money at the bar.”

Now the brow set back into its annoyed frown. “Is this what I get for being nice?”

“If you mean a free drink, then yes, that’s what you get.”

The beer was wet and cold against his shirt, and your fingers brushed as he took it into his hand. The feeling of his smooth fingertips against your knuckles sent a jolt of electricity up your spine. “I meant being bothered.” He turned around without another word, before Max laughed, smacked Angus’ arm.

“Hey, show some gratitude. How often is someone actually kind to you?” Max grinned, before turning to you. “Wasn’t expecting you to come out tonight.”

You frowned, trying not to feel offended. “Why not?”

“I dunno, thought maybe Tully over here would’ve scared you off. He’s pretty good at that.”

You snorted. “The last person in the world I’m scared of is him,” you said, pointing at the man beside you with your thumb. “He’s like, 80 pounds soaking wet. A toddler could take him out.”

That got howls of laughter from around the table, and you didn’t dare to look at Angus’s face. It felt good to be in on the joke for once, but the moment ended quickly, and conversation resumed around you like waves crashing from all sides. 

“So, Angus,” you looked up for the source of the voice, and saw Tracy with her elbow propped up on the table and her chin in her hand. “How’s your novel going?”

You turned to him in silent surprise, eyes wide.

He glanced at you, before bringing his attention back to Tracy. “It’s not a novel, really. It’s more like a novella. And it’s going well; Sandra from the school paper volunteered to edit the first draft, which is cool.”

“You’re writing a novella? I didn’t know that,” you said.

He turned back to you, looking annoyed just by the sound of your voice. “Why would you know that?”

You sucked in a breath, holding back a biting response. “What’s it about?”

He was avoiding your gaze now, looking back at Tracy. “I’m not gonna let you read it. Not like I need your feedback.”

Tracy didn’t bother to hide her amusement, looking at you with a pitying smirk. These fucking people.

“I didn’t say I wanted to read your shitty book, I was just trying to be polite,” you gritted, pushing off the table. “Don’t know why I bothered, though. It’s not like you deserve it.”

Sally was stationed next to the pool table, yelling tips on how to angle the cues to your fellow drunken students, who missed the ball with one wobbly hit after another. You sidled up to her, beer can crushing under the weight of your furious fist.

“Looks like you got that drink,” she said, watching you over the rim of her own glass. She was drinking something red, with a cherry floating among the ice.

“Need a fucking stronger one, Jesus Christ,” you muttered.

“Angus got you riled up again?”

You threw your arms up, reignited simply at the mention of him. “I mean, what am I supposed to do? I tried to be nice, so I bought him a drink.”

Sally nodded seriously. “I saw that.”

“I don’t know what he wants, or why he insists on being an asshole to me. Like he’s an asshole in general, but to me he’s a giant, toxic one.”

“Hairy too, if I had to guess.”

You choked on your own spit at that, head whipped towards her. Sally just burst out laughing at your reaction, hand slapping her side. “Sorry, just trying to agree with you. Nothing worse than hairy man ass. Let’s get you something else to drink. Maybe not in a glass though; we don’t want it shattering all over the place.”

Not only did you get a stronger drink, but Sally had convinced you to take shots with whoever else was at the bar, and the two of you threw back shots of Smirnoff with the other students and old motorcyclists standing next to you. Well, a few shots. After an hour, you had completely forgotten how mad Angus made you. In fact, all the anger had dissipated into warm fuzziness, and a growing ache between your legs.

Everytime the two of you locked eyes from across the room, you felt desire spike throughout your entire body. Why did he have to be so handsome? Or if that was some inevitable trait gifted to him by God, then couldn’t God make him nicer? It was infuriating. He was infuriating.

Brian wasn’t infuriating. Of all the people who orbited Angus, he was your favorite. You both worked together on a research essay last semester, and got to know each other decently well. He was funny, hardworking, and kind of cute. You liked his wire-rim glasses, and feathered hair. There weren’t any moles dotting his face, or thick curly hair to dig your fingers into, but for now that was okay. You were leaned so close to him that you could smell his cologne. It was spicy, like cedar and smoke. Nothing like Angus, who always smelled soft, like laundry and lavender aftershave. Brian’s hand was brushing against your collar, feigning that he needed to fix its crookedness. 

“How’s your semester been?” He asked.

“It’s been good,” you lied, “What about you?”

“I’ve been doing this internship since September, which is cool. Just copywriting for the local paper, but better than nothing.”

Jealousy and dread was beginning to brew in your stomach. You’d been doing nothing. You were going to graduate next Spring, and you still hadn’t managed to land an internship or build an especially good relationship with any professors. What would you do after school, when you hadn’t been pushing yourself hard enough? The thought of it was making you feel ill.

You hadn’t spoken for a few seconds, and tried to recover with “Oh, wow! That does sound cool.”

Brian gave you a small smile. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “Sorry, I’ll be right back, just gonna use the washroom.”

He nodded, stepping back to let you walk away. Weaving through tables and patrons, you finally made it back to the corner where your jacket had been stashed away. You slipped into it quickly, and headed for the door.

It was much quieter outside. Music and laughter had been replaced with the sound of wind blowing against creaking wood, the noise of the bar muffled behind brick. You dug through your pockets, fingers searching through discarded wrappers, chapstick and loose coins before you finally found it. You pulled a tube and lighter from your jacket, cold hands trying to carefully slide a joint from the small tube. 

As soon as you took your first inhale of the joint, relief took over your body. It didn’t take long for your mind to become fuzzy with static, and your limbs relaxed into weightlessness. You stood with your back against the building, and watched the empty street in front of you. Snow swirled through the air, picked up by wind and dispersed like mist. Beams from the streetlights cast the sidewalk in glittering light, and you kicked at the thin layer of snow with the toe of your boot.

The door to the bar swung open, and you watched as Angus Tully walked through. He had his coat on again, the dark red scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. A cigarette hung loosely between his lips. As soon as he saw you, his face dropped into irritation. You weren’t feeling so pleased at the sight of him, either. 

“Jesus, what are you doing out here?” He muttered, leaning next to you against the wall.

You glowered at him. “Do you own the sidewalk, or something? What kind of stupid question is that.”

He fumbled through his jacket pockets. “You’re gonna talk to me about stupid questions? That’s rich.”

There was no dignifying him with a response, you just rolled your eyes and took another hit of your joint to the sound of him rummaging through his coat. After just a few seconds of silence, he sighed, and turned back to you. “Can I use your lighter?”

You kept your eyes on the street in front of you. “Don’t have one.”

“Seriously? You’re going to be like this right now?”

“God, do you ever shut the hell up?” You asked, holding out your lighter for him. It sat in your outstretched palm for a moment, before you felt him pluck it gently out of your hand. There was a flicker of light, and the sound of the Zippo flipping closed before he handed it back to you.

“What are you doing out here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be inside, being an annoying prick to everyone?” You sighed. 

“Y’know, that’s exactly what I asked you,” he said, blowing smoke upward.

Your fingers were starting to feel numb in the cold, and you suddenly wished you brought a pair of gloves with you. “Just needed a little alone time. Which I still haven’t found.”

“Funny, thought you were having fun. Throwing yourself at everyone and whatnot. Seems like your greatest strength.”

You whipped around to him. “I’m sorry, are you keeping tabs on me? How is it any business of yours, what I do or who I talk to? What makes you think you can say that to me?”

Angus was fully turned to you now, too. The cigarette was burning quickly between his fingers, abandoned by his mouth. “I just don’t want my friend to get hurt, that’s all.”

“You were watching Brian and I?” You asked, incredulous. 

His cheeks were turning bright red, and you sensed that it was from more than the biting weather. “So what if I was? I’ve seen how you are with guys.”

“‘How I am with guys?’ What the hell are you talking about? Where are you getting this from?”

“Come on, don’t act dumb. Every semester you get all cozy with some guy from our class, and then you ditch them. I just don’t want the same thing to happen with—I mean, to my friend. I’m not saying you’re easy or anything, just there’s a pattern.”

You were completely speechless. Maybe you did know a lot of guys from your class, but it didn’t mean that you were leading them all on, or that you had even been intimate with any of them. Brian was the one flirting with you tonight, and it didn’t mean you were a slut for indulging in it. But somehowm none of the words came out, no self-defense. You felt raw. 

“What did I do to you, Angus? I mean, really. What did I do to make you hate me so much?”

He let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it, right? That’s very unsurprising, considering how little seems to get through your head.”

The fuzzy, warm feeling that the pot gave you had turned ice cold, and yet your brain still felt mushy and soft. There was no room for weakness around Angus, but now you felt like an open wound, a deep cut that he was digging his nails into.

“No, I don’t get it,” you replied. The lump in your throat was beginning to swell, like you tried to swallow an apple whole. “Because everyone loves you. All anyone ever talks about is you. ‘Oh, Angus threw this great party. Angus said the funniest thing the other day’. You have everything in the entire world, and you still can’t leave me alone. Apparently, it’s some great crime for me to even make friends. You just want everything for yourself.”

He stared at you with the same wide-eyed expression as before. If you squinted and focused just a bit more, he might have even looked embarrassed.

“I’d love to know what’s so fucking great about you. I really wish I saw that. We could even be friends if you weren’t such a giant asshole,” you finished weakly. You tossed the dead joint to the ground, and brushed past him back to the bar, shoulder shoved into his arm.

“You’re welcome for the lighter, by the way.”

---

The rest of the week had broken you down into a shell of yourself. After getting disasterously drunk after your argument with Angus at the bar on Monday night, you awoke with a pounding headache the next morning. You dragged yourself out of bed and into class, only to realize that you had forgotten to do a reading. If you hadn’t gone out that night, you would have had time to do the assignment, and now you were falling even more behind than before. Your shift at the campus café on Wednesday afternoon was incredibly busy because your coworker had called off. Despite the fact that you were a below-average barista, your boss insisted that you juggle the cash register and making drinks. On Thursday you slept too late and missed another class, and on Friday you barely had the energy to get out of bed.

You spent the weekend trying desperately to study and catch up with homework, but it was like your brain had completely shut down. You read and reread lines from your textbook, failing to gain any meaning from the words, and your hand began to cramp after writing only a page of notes. Everything was falling apart, and there was no one to blame but yourself.

Angus was just the cherry on top. You saw him almost everyday, and when you came to class late that Tuesday, the sight of him was just a stabbing, awkward reminder of what happened. Having that power over you was unbearable, and you wanted to skip classes to avoid even seeing him. You refused to let him know he had that power over you, but it was getting harder everyday.

Monday, on your way to Johnson’s class, you felt more defeated than you ever had. It was the last class of the day, but the sky was already starting to darken, and the snow had accumulated so quickly the past few days that most pathways on campus hadn’t been shoveled yet, leaving you to step wonkily through the quad. You tired quickly from trying to step in the uneven ground, and decided, with much shame, to call it quits and walk back to your dorm. Fuck this. Fuck school, fuck Johnson, and fuck your life.

You turned around and followed your steps back through the quad, staring down at the monotonous ground at your feet, before hearing your name called. Looking up, you saw Angus, bundled up tightly, with a ridiculous trapper hat over his head, curls still managing to escape from underneath. No. No, no, no. This was the last person you wanted to see right now.

There was no avoiding him, however, as his long legs reached you in a few short paces. “What are you doing? Class starts in two  minutes.”

“Yeah,” avoiding his gaze, you attempted to move around him. “Better get a move on then.”

He stepped in front of you, blocking your path. “Where are you going? You know Lincoln Hall is the other way, right?”

“I know that, Angus,” you said, attempting to move around him again. However, the man just sidestepped you again, staying directly in front of you.

You looked at him, not bothering to hide the ire in your face. “Do you mind?”

“Are you skipping right now?” He asked, and you wished that he didn’t sound so earnestly concerned. You wished that he didn’t care at all.

“Yes, I am. Now move, please and thank you.”

He simply shook his head. “Don’t skip, okay? Come to class. We have a test on Wednesday and you’ll be screwed if you don’t go.”

You scoffed at him. “Oh please, don’t act like you care. If I fail, it’ll just give you an opportunity to rub in how much better than me you are.”

“It doesn’t matter, okay? We have to go. You’re not like this, you’re not… a skipper,” he insisted.

“How would you know what I’m like, Angus? I’m not going, and that’s it.” You pushed past him again, before suddenly being pulled by the wrist. You stared back at Angus in disbelief, and couldn’t help but think that this was the first time he had ever touched you.

“What the hell are you doing?” you yelled, giving your arm a light tug. 

Angus’ grip was firm, but not painful, as he tugged you back in the other direction. “You’re being ridiculous. Come on, we’re already late as it is.”

Panic began to rise in your throat, and you shook your head frantically, now pulling harder to free yourself from his grip. Angus was much stronger than he looked, and didn’t seem to budge from your flailing attempts to get free. “What the fuck?” He yelled, looking at you incredlously. 

“I can’t do it, Angus! Okay? I can’t explain it but I just can’t walk in there! Please, please, please don’t make me do this,” you begged, eyes screwed shut as you fought back tears.

He released you suddenly, and you fell back into the snow from your continued momentum.

“Oh, shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that would happen, I was just trying to…” He stopped, and rushed to kneel by you, where you slowly sat up from the thick layer of snow you had landed in. Your ass was wet, and the chill was beginning to set in quickly. Everything was going so wrong, and you wished to curl into a ball and disappear.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to push you. Well, I mean, I was, but I didn’t mean to push you too far.” He extended his hand, and you grabbed it in defeat, letting him pull you out of the snow.

You brushed your behind with bare hands, and tried to dry them on your coat. “How did my life become so fucked up?” You asked yourself quietly. Angus still stood in front of you, irritatingly concerned, and you suddenly felt very sorry for the both of you.

Angus stared at you with furrowed brows, a frown on his face that you’d never seen before, and you wondered if he was upset. You’d never seen him be upset. Annoyed, of course. Mad, plenty of times. Happy, even, laughing it up with his friends. But simply upset? That was an expression that was new to you, and you hated seeing it on him. He still looked handsome, warm brown eyes trying to melt your cold.

He sighed. “Look, if you’re struggling with school, I get it. And I’m not trying to sabotage you, okay? No tricks when I say this: come to my place after class today. We can work together, and I can fill you in on what you missed for Johnson’s. I figure you can’t go now when…” He gestured awkwardly to your lower half.

You didn’t say anything for a long moment, just letting the snow fall around you in silence. Angus would be ten minutes late if he left for class now. “Why are you being nice to me?” you asked.

He shook his head, and swung his backpack around to unzip it. He tore out a piece of paper, and pulled a pen from the bottom of his bag. One palm was used to hold the paper, and he quickly scribbled something onto the sheet. When he handed it to you, you could see that the writing was messy, and that the pen had torn a little hole in every other character.

“That’s my address. If you want to come over, then come over any time after 4, okay? I promise I won’t belittle you or make you feel bad, or anything. I promise,” he repeated. By the time you looked up from the crinkled page, you saw him jogging to class, backpack bouncing from the single shoulder it hung from, and red scarf trailing behind him.

---

You stood infront of a three-story apartment building on Main Street. The first floor was taken up by a bakery, which you had been to only once before, and the facade was all worn, red brick, and intricate stained glass above the bay windows. It was the kind of apartment you dreamed of living in; the view from the bay was probably so comfortable this time of year. Angus didn’t deserve to live here. You stepped to the front door, and searched for Angus’s name by the doorbells. Once you pressed the button, a surge of anxiety ran through you, and you suddenly wondered if you still looked okay, or if the wind had messed up your hair. You smoothed a hand over your long, wool skirt, and wanted to slap yourself for caring what Angus thought of you.

After a minute, you heard footsteps thumping from behind the door, which swung open to reveal Angus all dressed down. He wore flannel pants, and a grey hoodie with the name ‘Barton’ printed in all caps. 

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t know if you’d actually show up,” he said, stepping aside to let you in.

“No, that’s fine. It’s your house,” you replied, following him up the stairs to the second floor. 

His apartment was so beautiful that it was unfair. The bay window was even more beautiful from this side, gauzy curtains pulled aside, and a plush bench nestled in the space. The kitchen and living room were connected with a wide archway, and you could see from where you stood that the dining table was surrounded by three wooden chairs, his winter coat hanging off the back of one. 

The living room featured a plush corduroy couch, adorned by a single throw pillow and woven blanket tossed over the arm. The coffee table had board games stored underneath it, you could see an intricately designed chessboard poking out. A tall and narrow bookshelf stood next to the T.V set, and you wandered to look at it while Angus cleared the coffee table of mugs and loose paper. It appeared that he was most interested in the American classics, and you were impressed to see a copy of Gravity’s Rainbow on the shelf. You plucked it off carefully, and turned to Angus, holding the book to him with both hands. 

“Is this one any good? I haven’t had the chance to read it yet.”

He looked to you from his place in the kitchen, depositing dishes in the sink. “Oh, uh. I haven’t actually read it yet.”

You snorted, and placed it back on the shelf, next to a curiously worn copy of Meditations by Marcus Aurelius.

“Sorry, I can take this for you,” he said, sounding much closer than he was before. He was only inches from you now, with surprisingly light steps, and gestured to your coat. 

“Oh! Thank you…” you went to put your bag down on the ground, but Angus took it before you could. When you took your coat off, he took it with a single hand, leaving your bag on the couch before going to hang the coat off another chair in the kitchen.

It was awkward standing in Angus’ living room. Did he have a roommate? You wondered what the rest of the apartment looked like, and were itching to explore. You never imagined that you would be in his space, and it was almost too intimate to now be in it. You sat stiffly on the couch, busying yourself by rummaging through your bag.

“Hopefully you don’t mind being in the living room? My kitchen light has been flickering, so it’ll be a headache to sit in there,” Angus asked, setting down two steaming mugs onto the table.

“That’s fine. What’s this?”

“Oh, it’s Earl Grey. Nothing fancy, I don’t own a teapot or anything. Just in case you needed the caffeine,” he turned the handle of one mug towards you, before settling down on the couch.

You mumbled thanks to him, still feeling strange and out of place.

“...What have you been struggling with the most?”

It would have been nice if in that moment, an explosion engulfed the entire room in flames, and you and Tully could be put out of your own misery. The humiliation of having to turn to Angus, of all people, was almost too much for you. His sheepish willingness to help was not making it any easier. You could only groan, and rub at your face, trying to fight the incoming headache.

Angus just stared at you, brow furrowed in confusion and second-hand embarrassment.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m telling you. It might be shocking to hear, but I used to struggle with school, too, and it took a lot of work to get my head back on straight. But I had good mentors, and it got better,” he tried to comfort.

You chuckled, moving your hands to organize your notebooks and assignments across the coffee table. “That doesn’t shock me, actually. You can be kind of dumb sometimes.”

“You’re calling me dumb? Who’s the one that missed three classes in a row for British Romantic Literature? You should value your education a little more; if you don’t show up to class, you’re basically lighting money on fire. That makes you the biggest idiot in the school,” he jeered.

“Three classes in a row? How do you even notice something like that? Are you stalking me or something?” You countered, reveling in the warmth growing in Angus’s cheeks. “Will you just help me, already? I’m behind on two reflections for British Romantic, and if they don’t get done soon, I’ll just about kill myself.”

“That would be a tragedy. How will the world go on without you?”

“Cut the sarcasm, you ass.”

The study session started off rocky, with you and Angus arguing back and forth about Don Juan, insulting the other’s interpretations, and each other’s intelligence. You wanted to quit, almost storming out at Angus’s sharp tongue, before realizing that it was the exact kind of content needed to complete the assignment. His opposing view made it easier to know what you were arguing for the reflections, and you began to write pages upon pages of examination for Don Juan and Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. It became productive to work alongside Angus; he did his work while you did yours, but it was motivating to study with someone as competitive as him. 

Even harder to admit, but you were even having fun. You enjoyed working to background noise, and he let you go through his records to find something you liked. 

You laughed loudly when you pulled out a copy of Shut Down Volume Two  by The Beach Boys. “Really? Angus Tully likes The Beach Boys? Do you dance along to Surfin’ U.S.A.?”

He rolled his eyes at your joke, unamused. “Whatever, it was a gift. I used to like them as a kid. It’s like, the opposite vibe of Massachusettes.”

You placed the vinyl carefully onto the record player. “It’s okay, I like them too. I used to listen to Pet Sounds on repeat; my parents were pissed about hearing God Only Knows ten times a day.” The needle was set to the edge of the record, and you let it begin to play.

“You’re from Massachusettes?” You asked.

He was sprawled lazily on the couch, legs wide, one hand holding a copy of Othello and the other marking it with a pen. He responded without looking at you. “Yeah, a city called New Bedford. It’s by the ocean.” 

Your eyes went wide as you took your spot next to him. “Wow, ocean town? That sounds amazing. You probably fished a lot, huh?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t great at it. I usually just went because my dad liked to. We’d go and he’d fry it after, and my mom would complain about the smell in the house, although it always smelled kind of salty.” Angus trailed off, looking down at Othello, eyes glazed over in thought. You didn’t know anything about Angus’ life, but you could tell that the subject of his family wasn’t an easy one. Leaving the conversation off on a bitter point would only make things between the two of you tense again, and you changed topics.

“Is that where you went to school, in New Bedford?”

“No, I went to a boarding school closer to Boston. One of those small towns about an hour away.”

You shook your head. “I knew it.”

He shot you a look. “Knew what?”

“That you’re a rich kid. I mean, I knew that it was a private school you went to, I heard you tell Max once, but boarding school?” You shook your head again in pseudo-exasperation.

“Whatever. It sucked, and I hated going there,” he said. The two of you fell silent, the sound of Don’t Worry Baby filling the room.

“What were you like in high school? A total jerkoff?” You played with your pen, scribbling mindlessly in your notebook. When he didn’t respond immediately, you turned to check on him. Othello now sat useless in his lap, and he appeared deep in thought again.

“Honestly, yeah, I was.”

“Shocker,” you quipped.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “Basically everyone hated me. I mean, really hated me. My classmates, my teachers, the whole administration. I did stupid shit like pull pranks but it was something else that was wrong with me. Not just that I blew up a toilet with firecrackers or whatever, but I thought I was so much better than everyone else. And then I grew up a little and realized that I’m not. And I said stuff back then to people that should’ve gotten my ass kicked. Sometimes it did.”

You didn’t expect Angus to be so honest with you, and sat at a loss for words. “You blew up a toilet?”

He just chuckled. “Yeah, and I got caught, too.”

“Rookie mistake.”

“Exactly,” he sighed, running a hand through his messy curls. It was longer now than it had been at the beginning of the semester, and you wanted more than anything to smooth out the stray curl by his forehead. He looked so soft in his hoodie, warmed by lamp light, completely in his element. “This is the first time I’ve ever had real friends before. It’s the first time I’ve walked into a room and people didn’t groan at the sight of me.”

“Yeah, must be nice.” You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “It’s hard to imagine how much worse you could’ve been back then, when you’re already pretty bad now. But it’s also hard to imagine you being lonely, when everyone loves you now. Everyone but me, I guess.” Your fingers tightened in the fabric, and you sighed. “You were right, before.”

Angus just sat, watching you. “Right about what?”

“What you said last week. That I don’t get it. There’s probably some obvious explanation for why you hate me, but I don’t understand what it is. I don’t know why you were so mean before, or why you’re being so nice to me now.” Angus seemed to be the shortcut to making you emotional, because as soon as the words came out, you had to fight the shaking in your hands, and the lump in your throat. “I mean, if it’s something that I did, just tell me, and I’ll apologize and we can just be normal classmates. Because I don’t have the energy to fight with you, lately,” you continued.

“It’s not you. You didn’t do anything, okay? I’m just an idiot, and you’re right: I’m a huge pain in the ass,” Angus said, shifting closer to you. 

“It must be me. You’re even nice to Tracy, and she’s the worst,” you warbled. “And you’re already one of the best writers in class; you’ll probably go far. You’re gonna write a novel.”

“It’s a novella. I’ll show you the first draft when it’s done.”

The words were meant to comfort, but it just made you break further, and a gentle tear rolled down your cheek. “I thought you didn’t want me to read it,” you whispered. 

Angus shook his head again. “I was just being an asshole when I said that. I was… scared. You’re a better writer than I am by miles. I didn’t want you to judge me if you read it and found out that it sucks so I… I don’t know. Everytime I’m around you I get scared and defensive and I become even more stupid than I already am.”

You let out a watery laugh, wiping the mist from your eyes. “You’re scared of me? How does that work?”

He sighed your name, a soft sound that you had never come out of his mouth before. Not in that way, as though he could cradle it gently between his smooth palms. When you didn’t look up in response, he placed a hand on your shoulder, moving you towards him. Your skin prickled at his touch; even between layers of clothes you felt electricity sparking and warming your arm. His eyes met yours with an intensity that was almost too much to bear, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. You were less than a foot apart now, the closest to each other that you had ever been. 

“I know that you don’t believe it right now, but you’re talented and a great writer. Everytime you speak up in class it’s something that I’ve never thought of, that probably half the idiots in there could never come up with on their own. And every time you look at me, you’re determined, like you know you could out-smart me any day of the week. You could, and you don’t realize it yet, which is terrifying,” he rambled. You could hardly breathe listening to him. “One day you’re gonna realize that nothing is holding you back, and you’ll leave us all in the dust. I’m a dumbass for being too insecure to admit that before, to you or myself.”

You didn’t know what to say; you had never expected Angus to tell you any of that. You thought that he’d say something about your writing workshop freshman year, or the time you switched his spot in the class presentations from last to first, so that when he came into class five minutes late (as you predicted) he was scolded by the professor. What was unexpected was him singing your praises, and telling you that you were a better writer than him.

“It’s big of you to admit that, Angus. Thank you for saying it,” you said.

“Don’t thank me, thank my shrink. It’s taken years of therapy to get here,” he replied.

You couldn’t hide your surprise at the mention of a shrink. “Well, since we’re being vulnerable, I’m sorry, too. For not being the bigger person, and ending this madness sooner. And for saying some pretty horrible stuff about you before. I guess we were both jealous of each other… I just wanted to be as good as you are,” you admitted. “I do have another question, though.”

Angus frowned, removing his hand from you. “Shit. What else did I do?”

“Why did you say that stuff to me about Brian last week? That was pretty horrible, accusing me of being easy, sleeping around with these guys from class. I wouldn’t hurt him, you know,” you said seriously. 

Angus groaned, dropping his head. “Oh, God. Alright that was messed up, and I was being a male chauvinist pig, but you can’t go out with Brian, alright? Serious, he’s a moronic charlatan and you have to turn him down.”

Now you remembered how rude Angus could be, and a fire was lit under you again. Just when things were going well, he had to go say and something

“And who are you to say who I can and can’t date?”

His head whipped up to you. “You guys are dating?”

“No, Angus. But even if we were, it wouldn’t be any business of yours. I can see whoever I want, and it doesn’t make me a slut or something,” you gritted.

The relief on his face was evident. “Oh, okay, good. That’s good.”

“‘That’s good?’ What are you talking about?” You asked in astonishment. Angus was giving you complete whiplash.

He stared at you, looking as if he had just been caught red-handed, before standing up abruptly. “I think you should go home now.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? What is going on with you right now, Angus?” You snapped, standing with arms crossed. “One minute you’re bearing your soul to me, and now you’re shutting down. What are you trying to communicate? Because I’m so confused.”

Angus’ hands were threatening to rip the hair out either side of his head. “I told you I was scared! Because I like you, okay? Because you’re intellectual and thoughtful and the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and you can’t date Brian, because it’ll destroy me.”

It was as if a gun had been shot inches away from you, the way your ears rang and the world around you narrowed into the tiny pinprick that was Angus Tully. Nothing else existed anymore, just the way he bit into his plush bottom lip, the anguished crease in his brow, the droop of his almond eyes, his silly Barton hoodie. All you could do was reach forward, grab his hoodie strings and press your lips against his.

He melted into the kiss immediately, palms coming to cup your cheeks. He leaned forward to ease the strained reach towards him, and your hands clenched at his chest. Your lips slotted together perfectly, his nose bumping into yours. Even the dots of stubble scratching against your chin, which you would usually bemoan on any other man, was exhilarating and made you press for more. When you pulled back for air, his mouth chased yours until you pushed gently against his chest.

“I like you, too. Is that too juvenile?” You asked timidly.

“No,” he said, caressing the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. Your lips were swollen and warm from being pressed against his, and you loved the soothing feeling of his thumb brushing against you. “It’s perfect. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Huffing a laugh to yourself, you reached up to twirl a curl between your fingers. His hair was just as soft as you imagined, the perfect contrast against his scratchy cheeks. He laughed with you, and asked “Having fun up there?”

You smiled, leaning into him again, “Lots. I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“Oh yeah? For how long?” He grinned.

You faked an annoyed groan, resting your head on his chest. “Oh, I don’t know. On and off since freshman year? You sat in front of me in American Lit, and I thought you were the coolest guy in the world. On whenever you spoke, and off whenever you spoke to me.”

His deft fingers played with the hair at the nape of your neck, brushing against the locks. “I think I’ve got you beat.”

You raised a suspicious brow at him. “What do you mean?”

“Mine started during freshman orientation. We got the same tour group, remember? And when we went in a circle introducing ourselves or whatever, I couldn’t believe I was gonna be in class with someone as beautiful as you. And then you said you wanted to be a writer and journalist, writing stories about life like Joan Didion, and I thought it was the coolest thing I’d ever heard,” Angus replied.

“Oh man, losts of wasted time then. We could have been doing this for three years instead of fighting every day,” you said.

He gave you that soft smile you loved, taking you all in. He felt like the luckiest man alive, and everyone else could suck it. “Better start making up for it now, then,” and he leaned in again, soft and warm and perfect.

Until he made you eat those words a day before you were supposed to leave, sitting among clothes and general things you would need for the week scattered around your bed when your phone buzzed and lit up to show the lockscreen of you kissing his cheek.

“hey so. i hate to say this but i dont think this is going to work out. i dont want to see you hurt and your a great person but i dont think im ready to meet your family yet. i think i should spend time alone to find myself. its not your fault ml”

Your smile fell as you read over the message again and again.

“merry xmas btw”

After a couple hours of coping very healthily and no emotional outbursts whatsoever, you wiped the last of your tears. Okay. This was fine! It was a single day before you were supposed to drive home and see almost all of your extended family for an entire week, and the man you had made sound like a fairy tale prince just dumped you over text!

If you showed up there, heartbroken and alone, you would never hear the end of it from all sides of the family.

…

You needed a new boyfriend.

Running through the list of people you knew would probably be easier than trying to find a stranger within a day, but you quickly ran into the issue that your family already knew most of your friends, and none would be able to easily pass as a boyfriend for a whole week without blowing it. So you moved on to secondary friends. People you had the number of for classes or your neighbours, people in your study group. Nothing. You fell back against your bed and stared at your contact list hopelessly, scrolling up and down as if that would make some new number magically appear. You had to face the reality of the situation; You were screwed.

The next morning you picked yourself up and got ready, showering and packing the rest of whatever items you hadn’t already shoved into a bag. The idea of cancelling on your study group appealed to you greatly, but some part of your mind reminded you that you had notes that a few of the others needed to copy down, and you wanted to stay in their good graces. So you gathered every inch of mental tape you had and held yourself together until you resembled a stable human being, and locked the door behind you as you left.

Walking into the library, the warmth hugged your face and you let out a quiet sigh as you loosened your scarf, kicked the snow off your boots, and moved deeper into the building to find the usual area everyone gathered in. It was a long table toward the back that a handful of you had claimed weekly for study meets. One of your close friends and a few others who had the same class, and a few who just liked the company and atmosphere. You knew everyone there by name and occasionally after studying you would all go out for food. Of course, you couldn’t stop thinking about your dilemma as you sat down and pulled out your books. You wouldn’t be able to focus on work much, but you could at least pretend you were being productive.

Handing your notes around the table, you took a look at everyone again and weighed your options. Either they didn’t fit what you remember telling your family, or they had met your family in one way or another. You sighed and stared down at the still shut textbook in front of you. None of the material seemed like it was near interesting enough to derail your current train of thought. Sitting up to say something to your friend, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention.

“Sorry, hope I’m not late!”

Turning your head the other way, you see a dark green jacket and look up at the man holding the back of the chair next to you. “This seat isn’t taken, is it?”

Your eyes widened. Charlie. Of course. He was a newer addition to the group, invited by a couple others you weren’t too close with. You didn’t know him too well, at most having been left alone at the table with him once or twice, but he was nice and funny and.. Well, you’d be lying to say he wasn’t conventionally attractive. He would match what you had told your parents almost perfectly. You just had to figure out how to ask him such a thing. Nothing you came up with sounded normal, or it just made you seem like some kind of creep trying to lie to their family. He’d mentioned doing a little acting before though, hadn’t he? Maybe you would have to bribe him— Before you knew it, everyone else had left the table, leaving you and Charlie alone in that area of the suddenly far too silent library.

He sighed and put his pencil down, closing his book and starting to pack his things. You panicked, cutting him off as he stood up and opened his mouth to speak.

“Can I ask a favour of you?”

He seemed slightly taken aback at how quickly you had spoken, but nodded slightly regardless.

“Sure.. What’s up?”

You took a deep breath and hoped you weren’t about to make an idiot of yourself.

“It’s.. a huge favour, and if you don’t want to, you can say no and we can pretend like I never asked but-” Pausing from nerves, you peeked up at him but he just seemed amused by your nerves, waiting for you to go on so before you knew it you started spilling your guts. “My boyfriend dumped me last night and tomorrow we were supposed to drive home to spend the week and visit my whole family for Christmas, but now he isn’t coming and I just spent the last few months acting like he was gonna be a big surprise so they don’t know too many details but I can’t go home alone or I’ll be embarrassed until the day I die and-”

Charlie waved his hand with a soft laugh and sat back down to be on your level.

“Hey- Hey. Take a breath.” He smiled patiently and waited for you to take a deep breath. “How can I help?”

“I need you to.. Pretend to be my boyfriend for the week in front of my whole family..?” You shakily asked, knowing how messed up that sounded.

Charlie stared at you with a strange look in his eye, but the same soft smile on his face. After a moment he shrugged and nodded. “Sure, why not?”

You blinked.

“Sorry?”

“Honestly, I didn’t have any plans for the holidays anyways so… A week full of free food and entertainment doesn’t sound half bad.”

You felt like your heart might explode. Charlie laughed softly at your reaction.

“Thank- Oh, god Charlie thank you, you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“What can I say, I'm a simple man. Here, I can give you my number and you can text me in the morning when you’re ready to go. Okay?”

You nodded and handed him your phone, ignoring the flutter in your stomach when his hand encased yours to take it. It’s not like you had feelings for him, he was just a nice guy willing to do you a favour. That’s all this was.

You waved as he excused himself and headed out.

What had you gotten yourself into?

The next morning, at a frankly unreasonable time to be awake, you had shoved all your things into your car and parked where Charlie had said would be the easiest to pick him up. The radio hummed Christmas music on the local station as you looked through the messages between you two so far. One of the first things Charlie had sent was a picture of a knitted christmas sweater that looked like it had seen many holidays and a collared shirt that looked ironed, asking what kind of people your parents were. You had to appreciate the dedication to being the perfect boyfriend, and said whatever he’s most comfortable in - But that you probably had a similar looking sweater waiting for you at home somewhere, to which he responded he couldn’t wait to see.

A knock on the passenger window snapped you out of your thoughts and only then did you realize you were smiling like an idiot. Charlie waved through the window, his face illuminated by what bits of moonlight remained as the sky began to lighten before the sun had fully risen, and motioned to his bags. You popped the trunk and hopped out, opening it and going to help him load it all in.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” He politely waved you off and lifted it in with ease, and you definitely didn’t stare at the way the fabric of his jacket stretched across his arms as he did. He slammed the trunk shut with a hearty clunk before turning to you with a grin. “Shall we?”

You huffed out a laugh and nodded, getting back in the driver seat. He quickly slid into the seat beside you, stretching.

“It’s a long trip… Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Are you asking if I want to do the drive, or do this for a week?”

“I-”

“Because I do.” He nodded, a little too earnestly. “It’ll be okay, I’ll try not to make you look bad.” Charlie winked and glanced at the radio, then at your phone sitting in the cupholder beside you. “Your car, your rules. Who controls the music?”

The way he seemed so unbothered about the situation seemed to put you at ease for now, and you unlocked your phone and connected it to the car speakers before handing it to him.

“Surprise me, will you?”

“I won’t let you down.”

The two of you quickly took off and grabbed something to eat from a drive-through; Stopping to eat now would risk making you late. The weather seemed to be alright for now, but you were a bit nervous something would kick up before you were in the home stretch of your parents house. Charlie managed to calm your nerves every time with a joke or comment that would distract you from your worries. Eventually you two agreed that you needed a cohesive story to pull this off well, so you started by listing off things you remember having told your family about your ex, and Charlie nodded as he seemed to internalize all those traits, though you doubted he needed to fake most of these traits for your sake. Eventually you moved on to your story. How you met, dates you’d been on, mutual friends, and other various stories to sell that you had been close for the better part of a year rather than having maybe three conversations that weren’t purely about schoolwork and studying. Charlie even shared a bit more about himself for you to build on, and it shocked you a little how much you had in common and how little you really knew about him. Talking with him came so naturally, and he was so effortlessly funny that you wondered how you hadn’t become friends sooner. Part of you wondered if it could stay like this after you got home.

The conversation moved to boundaries. Knowing your family, there would be mistletoe somewhere in the house.

“Well,” Charlie hummed, thinking about it as he glanced out the front windshield. “I’m a pretty physical person, and I'm fine with PDA if that’s what you mean.”

You nodded and chewed the inside of your cheek.

“I just.. It’s all pretend, right? I don’t want to overstep-”

“We’ll probably be pushed together at one point or another anyways.” Charlie cut you off, looking at you. “So I’m fine with anything. Let’s maybe keep any kissing to a minimum though. Try to avoid mistletoe, yeah? Oh, and-” He tapped his bottom lip with his finger, smiling. “- No lips.”

There was a sigh, and you realized you had been holding your breath.

“Yeah, of course.”

He let out a little laugh as his smile grew.

“I know, that must be such a disappointment, nobody can resist this.” He sighed, as if this were a recurring issue. You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the thought of kissing him and laughed in response.

At one point you had stopped to refill the tank and Charlie offered to hold the pump while you ran inside to pay and get snacks (but no eggs, despite how many times he asked. You were not making your car smell like whatever gas station eggs must have smelt like.) Grabbing a drink for both of you and a handful of snacks, you plopped them all down on the counter and smiled at the cashier who started scanning the items.

“Is that your boyfriend on pump 2?” She asked, glancing at Charlie, who leaned against the car as he waited for you.

You stopped, and for some reason found yourself unable to answer. You were going to say that no, he was just a friend. …But then again, this was someone you’d probably never see again, and who probably didn’t actually care who he was in relation to you.

“Yeah, why?”

“Let him know that one acts up when it gets cold, he might have to be a little rough to make it work.” She shrugged and typed something into the register. “How much?”

You finished the transaction and walked out with a small bag of items, walking up to Charlie, who looked up from his phone.

“All good?”

“Yeah, she said it gets weird in the cold, be a little rough if you need to.” Charlie laughed a little and bit back a smile, and you felt a slight warmth in your cheeks that wasn’t from the cold.

“I can be rough.”

“Oh my god.” You groaned and shoved his arm as he grabbed the nozzle and pushed it into the car.

You didn’t mention that she called him your boyfriend. You kept it to yourself as you got into the passenger seat when Charlie insisted on driving until the next refuel. You let those words stew in your brain until he got in the driver’s seat and adjusted it to his size, familiarizing himself with your car as you stretched your legs.

After a few more short breaks and another gas station refuel where you took over driving, it’s dark again as you arrive. Charlie is intently watching all the lights on the houses as you drive up and pull into the driveway of your parents house. The whole place was decorated expertly, just as it had been every year for as long as you could remember. The sight was nostalgic.

Movement on the porch caught your eye as your mother and father came out to greet you. You killed the engine and gathered your things inside the car. Charlie was watching you when you looked up to him.

“Last chance.”

His hand slipped into yours with a gentle squeeze.

“I know.”

You look at your hands and smile softly before pulling away and exiting the car with a warm smile for your parents. It’s a moment of you three alone before the passenger door opens and Charlie steps out.

“There he is!” Your mother gasped and put a hand on your shoulder. “I was starting to think you were just making up fairytales.”

You laughed softly and shook your head.

“Mom, Dad, this is Charlie… My boyfriend.” Charlie walked up and wrapped an arm around you, extending a hand to your father, who shook it with a nod. Your mom pulled him in for a hug, and he quickly reciprocated, pulling away with a mirth in his eyes you hadn’t seen before.

“Oh, he’s just as lovely as you said, dear.” Your mother smiled and Charlie shrugged one shoulder as he moved his arm back around you.

“Well, I do my best.” He chuckled. “I gotta say, I'm a huge fan of your work.” Charlie motioned to you, and your mother laughed. “I didn’t believe angels were real until I met this one.”

You flushed and glanced away, which only made your mother laugh more. He instantly fell into rhythm with your family, giving off this perfect charm that made him nearly glow along with the Christmas lights around you all. It felt so genuine, every compliment that fell from his lips and the way he spoke to your parents was nothing short of naturally impressive.

Part of you wondered if it would play out like this if you had genuinely brought him home. If he would have his arm around your shoulders the same, make jokes that enamoured your parents just like he was now. You wondered if he would kiss your cheek and you would be rid of this weight in your chest. This guilt that came with lying to your parents, and soon enough your whole family. Before you could spiral any further into this train of thought, Charlie is nudging your shoulder.

“Oh, sorry- Yeah?”

He smiled down at you reassuringly, squeezing your shoulders as if he could read your mind. You wondered if he could. You wondered if he would leave you if he heard your thoughts now-

“Can you unlock the trunk for me?”

“Yeah, of course.” You reached for your keys and hit the trunk button.

Once again he’s insisting on taking his own luggage, so you grab your bags and bring them inside as your mother talks about the plans she has for the week and your father leads the march inside and up the stairs. You take a moment to admire the house, mostly decorated with little christmas details and festive colours covering every surface. Your parents loved to go all out for the holidays. The bigger decorations were still missing, and you figured they had been waiting for you and your boyfriend to come home and help them with those. Free labour, of course.

Quickly following up the stairs after Charlie, you see him standing in a doorway you immediately recognize. Oh no.

You had entirely forgotten that with extra guests coming over, the guest rooms would be taken up by other family members, leaving you in your old bedroom. Alone with Charlie. With one bed.

That was fine! It was fine, really!

Looking at Charlie’s face, he seemed to have connected the same dots as you.

Your dad left you to unpack and get settled in, saying he would meet you both downstairs and that dinner would be ready soon.

“I’m so sorry, I totally forgot about.. This. I can sleep on the floor if you-”

Charlie cut you off by shaking his head with a flustered laugh. His cheeks were slightly flushed as he looked to you with a hapless smile.

“It’s fine, really. Wouldn’t be the first time I shared a bed with someone. Besides, it's a queen by the look of it. We’ll both fit just fine. Try not to hog the blankets though, I might have to fight you for that.” He moved to the foot of the bed and dropped his bags to the ground, looking around. “So this is your room huh? It’s..” He seemed to bite something back, and it gave you a rush of worry. “It’s nice. I like it.”

You definitely weren’t freaking out right now. You were so normal and were doing fine as he ran his hand over the top of your dresser and looked at all the decorations. Admittedly it was a bit strange to see your room so.. Un-lived in, but it still felt like yours.

“We should probably head down and wash up for dinner.” You ignored the fluttering in your gut as he giddily pointed at a few items he recognized, brushing it off with a smile.

Surprisingly, dinner was rather uneventful. Charlie complimented your mothers cooking and answered a few questions about himself, and the four of you mostly talked about college, what had been going on in the neighbourhood and how the drive here had gone. You told Charlie that you’d help clean up by yourself, but he insisted on helping you clear the table and do the dishes. It felt oddly domestic, especially as you two started flicking water at each other, having to be stopped by your mother scolding you for getting water on her floors.

Your parents retired for the night shortly after that, and you and Charlie figured it would be best to follow suit. Heading upstairs with a quiet conversation, you were faced with a dilemma. You two weren’t about to change in front of each other, and you were not about to just have him cover his eyes and turn around.

“There’s always the bathroom,” Charlie offered, jabbing his thumb back towards the hallway.

“Yeah but- You’re the guest, making you change in the bathroom is a bit rude isn’t it?” He shrugged.

“This is your room, it’s only fair you get to change in here in my opinion.”

You went back and forth a bit more, before Charlie just grabbed his bag and headed to the bathroom anyways. There wasn’t much you could’ve done to convince him anyways, you assumed. A quick change later and there was a soft knock.

“Am I good to come back in?”

“Yeah, come in.”

Sitting on the bed, you went over your options until you had agreed to just bite the bullet and try to sleep on the far sides of the bed to avoid any awkwardness of sleeping with each other. As you stared out the window, the stars glittered, snow fell, and you drifted to sleep trying to guess what was a star and what was a snowflake.

The sun hit your face as you woke up, groaning. You rolled over and threw your arm over your face to shield yourself, only to find yourself now beside something warm. It only took a second to remember it was Charlie, and it took a couple more seconds to pull away and open your eyes to see he was raising an eyebrow at you with a quiet laugh.

“Good morning.”

“... Hi.”

He looked back to his phone in his hand, typing something out before turning it off and putting it down.

“I wasn’t sure when your family got up, I didn’t want to be sitting down there alone.”

“So you sat here and watched me sleep..?”

“No!- No, I didn’t-” Charlie’s eyes widened as he shook his head, only relaxing when he saw you smile and try not to laugh. He sighed, then squinted. “Wait..”

“What?” You sat up to look at him, rubbing your eyes and making yourself a little less dishevelled.

“If you were sleeping… And I was watching you sleep…” He turned to you, doing his best mewing expression. “Who’s watching Foxy..?”

You blinked a few times before dissolving into giggles. Charlie grinned at the praise as you covered your face and groaned. “Wanna go get breakfast now? It’s a little after nine.”

Swallowing down the last bubbles of laughter you nodded and pulled the blanket off of you as you got up. Charlie followed shortly after. Another bout of arguing over who would change where began until he once again moved to the bathroom, and you figured that trying to fight him any more on this would get you nowhere.

Padding down the stairs, you got to looking around the kitchen for something to eat. The only thing you could think of was cereal so you pulled out a box of something plain, and Charlie made a face.

“What?”

“I mean, is there.. Anything else? It’s okay if there isn’t just..”

You look back in the pantry and hummed.

“I don’t see anything. Knock yourself out though.”

Charlie walked over as you moved to your bowl and poured out the cereal. You looked over to see him stuck halfway into the shelves, kicking a foot up before pulling out a colourful box triumphantly. You laughed and recognized it as something you hadn’t gotten to eating before you moved out as he opened it.

“How old is that? When does it expire, even?”

“The bag is still sealed, so it's still fresh right?”

The bag popped open as he pulled it apart and dumped it into his bowl, taking a piece and eating it. “Still crunches.”

You laughed and shook your head, passing him the milk. The two of you sat there, you on the counter and him leaning against it as you two ate and talked quietly as the snow outside reflected warmth and light in the window and made miniature rainbows through the frost and decorations.

Your mother poked her head into the kitchen with a box full of decorations hanging out of it.

“There you are! When you’re done, can I borrow you two for a bit to help me finish getting these decorations up? Your father is out shovelling and handling the front of the house. Lord knows Ashley will have something to say if there’s no wreath on the front door..” She sighed and shook her head.

“Yeah, of course Mom.” You smiled and nodded, and Charlie gave a thumbs up with his mouth being full. She caught a glimpse of the colourful cereal in his bowl and gave it a strange look, but seemed to brush it off as she walked away.

“Ashley?” Charlie looked at you with a raised eyebrow after he swallowed.

“One of my aunts,” You glanced at him, then realized you should probably give him an idea of who he would be dealing with for the rest of the week. Charlie nodded intently as he brought another spoonful to his mouth while listening to you list off family members. “Then of course, there's my Aunt Ashley. She’s… She has high standards.” That was probably the easiest way to describe her eccentricities. “She lives the closest, so she was over a lot with her kids, Bella and Alice. Uh.. Be careful with Alice. She’s a bit of a hopeless romantic.”

Charlie squinted like he was trying to mentally write this all down.

“Don’t worry,” You laughed. “I’ll be sure to refresh you when they show up.”

He nodded, looking incredibly serious before he tilted his head back to drink the rest of the milk in the bowl, and there were a handful of thoughts you couldn’t repeat out loud that went through your mind when he pulled the bowl away and licked the remaining milk off his lips.

“Let’s uh- Let’s go help Mom, yeah?” You swallowed and glanced away, shaking the thoughts from your head. Charlie nodded and the two of you finished up in the kitchen before going through the house to find your mother.

Standing in the den, she was staring intently at the large Christmas tree with her hands on her hips. You knew this stance. She was probably planning out every possible way she could put garland and ribbons onto everything in sight, and would try to execute as many of those plans as possible before settling on one. At least you had Charlie, who was currently staring in awe at what decorations were already out.

“Just wait,” You leaned over and whispered. “It gets better.”

Charlie gave you a wide eyed look.

She quickly got everyone to work, pinning and taping things to the walls, lining each shelf with white stuffing to mimic snow, pulling out box after box of trinkets and little ornaments to set along everything. You wondered how many of these would get broken this year if the younger kids would be running around.

After the den was lathered in Christmas, you moved on to deck every hall and doorway with garland and lights. It would make for a magical walkway at the end, but for now you were watching Charlie struggle to not break a sweat with how much lifting and back and forth your mother had him do. Leave it to her to immediately put people to work when it comes to Christmas.

Taking a short break while she stepped outside to talk with your dad, you and Charlie sat down on the stairs after he finished wrapping the railing with glittering lights and tying bows to every other bannister.

“Where do you guys keep all this stuff year round?” Charlie glanced up to you as you straightened out one of the bows. “I mean it looks great but…”

“Storage containers in the basement. Trust me, getting it all out and decorating is the easy part.” A look of concern flashed across his face, which only made you laugh harder. “Don't worry, we’ll be gone by then.”

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck with a quiet laugh.

“It's nice, though. Like it really adds to the atmosphere and everything. Makes it feel cozy.” He glanced around and flicked at one of the lights gently. “How many people are gonna show up anyways? It’s a big house but I feel like it's gonna get cramped pretty quick.”

You had to think about that for a while. Each side had quite a few people on it, but knowing who would actually be showing up was always a bargain. Humming quietly, you reached into the box of decorations and pulled out a little bell on a string, reaching forward and hanging it on Charlie's ear with a grin.

“I’m not sure. I'll do my best to give you a rundown on everyone before they start talking your ear off though.”

Charlie tilted his head and felt for the foreign object on his ear, giving a confused laugh as he pulled it off and looked at it, then immediately turned back at you with mischief in his eyes.

Your mother walked back in the house to see you two laughing and shouting as you practically wrestled on the stairs to adorn each other with decorations.

She cleared her throat and the two of you quickly stopped to look at her, having been caught. Your mother crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow as she looked between you two and the mess of decorations you'd made.

“Having fun?”

After being made to clean up your mess, the three of you moved all over the house throughout the day decorating and redecorating, only stopping to get a drink or small snack. While looking through the remaining boxes, you held up a handful of mistletoe and looked at your mom.

“Do we really have to put all of this up? It seems a little… Much.”

“Of course we do, hun!” Your mother nodded like it was obvious and grabbed one from your hand, moving over to one of the doorways to hang it up among the garland. “It's tradition. Plus, it's nice! That's how you get all the cute candid pictures of people kissing.”

You sighed and resigned yourself to just trying your best to memorize where all of them were hung to avoid while walking around with Charlie.

“Go hang at least one in the front foyer for me, please?” She motioned to the remaining mistletoe in your hand then waved you towards the front of the house. You sighed and dropped the extra mistletoe back in the box, grabbing the stool she had pulled out a while ago and moved to the front of the house.

“Oh, there you are.” Charlie smiled as he walked up to you, watching you struggle to reach the garland to tie the mistletoe up.

“Yeah- Hey-” Reaching further didn’t seem to help either, the stool being just a bit too short to get up to where you needed. After a couple more moments of struggling, you sighed and turned to Charlie. “Care to lend me a hand?”

What you hadn’t expected was for Charlie to wrap his arms around your thighs from where you stood on the stool and lift you onto his shoulder.

Your mind went blank.

Why was that so easy for him??

“Is that tall enough?” Charlie’s voice was enough to snap you out of your daze and hang the mistletoe, trying your best not to think about how easily he grabbed you or about how you two were technically under mistletoe.

“Uh- Yeah that’s- Good- Great. Yeah, thanks.” You stumbled through the words, bringing your hands down to his shoulders to steady yourself before he set you back down and smiled up at you like he didn’t do anything.

Maybe this was an overreaction. Maybe you just had to calm down and he didn’t realize you meant for him to hang the stupid plant. Surely that was it! He was just taking the easiest path for him and there were no hidden intentions in his actions. Charlie was just an acquaintance doing you a major favour, and honestly you had to think about why he would even do such a thing? Someone like him must’ve had a nice family, or at least someone deserving of his charm to spend the holidays with, rather than spend a week keeping up some silly ruse and oh- Oh, he’s talking and you absolutely aren’t listening.

“Sorry, uh- Pardon?” You shook your head and looked down at him from your place on the stool.

“I asked how much you think is left?” Charlie tilted his head and looked around.

You stepped off the stool, silently praying you didn’t fall on him. That was the last thing you needed.

“Probably not much, Mom could handle the rest.”

The two of you walked around the house, collecting and stacking the empty decoration boxes. Hints of your mother’s work popped up around the house, the two of you almost constantly walking into mistletoe. Maybe keeping up with what doorways had it would be a bit harder than you expected.

Eventually everything was decorated and cleaned up, and you were helping your mother start supper. The radio gently hummed Christmas music through the room as you peeled potatoes and listened to your mother speak about some drama or other you had missed and she hadn’t told you about.

Charlie walked into the kitchen and watched you for a moment before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh- Hi, Charlie.” You glanced at him slightly, to see him softly smiling with his eyes shut. He just hummed warmly in response and moved his hands to your waist. You hardly skipped a beat falling back into conversation with your mother, despite the way you felt your face warm. He didn’t move for a while after that either, only pressing his face into your neck after a while, to which your mother gave a look that you waved off. After a while you had to quietly ask him to move so you could keep helping to prepare the dinner, to which he kissed your shoulder and whispered to you that he was going to take a nap. Your mother teased you when you seemed to short circuit after he pulled away. You finished helping and did your best not to think about the warmth emanating from where he had kissed you, and when the oven timer went off an hour or so later, your mother asked you to go wake him.

“Charlie..? Are you awake?” You gave the door a soft knock. There was the sound of some kind of movement in the bedroom, and then the door opened. Charlie’s hair was messy and his eyes were still tired. “Oh. Uh, dinner is ready..”

“Oh, already? Alright..” He yawned and nodded. You tried to ignore the way his tired voice got to you. He had always woken up some time before you, is that really what he sounded like after an hour of sleep?? “I’ll wash up and be down there soon.”

The conversation at dinner seemed to be entirely around Charlie and his interests and history. You wondered if they were trying to do some kind of weird interrogation or shovel talk, but when he started talking about some of his nerdier interests you saw your mother light up. There it was. You definitely knew what this talk was about.

The day ended with your mother telling you that tomorrow would be full of baking and that the sooner you could get up and help, the more the two of you could get done. Mentally preparing for that, you nodded and wished her goodnight. Charlie stayed up a bit later, waking you slightly when he came to bed, apologizing quietly as he moved the blankets. You don’t exactly remember falling back asleep, but you could’ve sworn you felt something warm press against your forehead.

You woke up before Charlie this time, watching him for a moment as his chest slowly breathed. Slipping out of the bed, you grabbed your clothes and slipped into the bathroom to change before you headed downstairs.

It was mornings like these you really missed. The sun freshly risen, pouring onto the tiled floor through the frosty windows, giving the perfect mix of warmth and chill as you padded into the kitchen and quickly made yourself something for breakfast. The birdsong outside melted into the sound of the radio as you turned it on and lowered the volume to a non-disturbing hum. Rifling through cabinets you pulled out the usual cookbooks and recipes you’d need today and any of the usual baking necessities. Your mother yawned as she walked into the kitchen and smiled at you as you tied an apron around your waist

“Someone’s eager this morning. Did you miss this that much?” She laughed quietly and hugged you before making herself something to eat. The two of you quickly got to work after that, making doughs and mixtures, prepping for any later baking. There were a few things she had already gotten the headstart on earlier that she took out of the fridge to check on.

Charlie walked down a while later, rubbing his eyes. He seemed a little taken aback to see the kitchen already so messy, taking it all in. You stopped to admire his tired look, the way the sun glowed against his skin and lit his hair up, the dust roaming the air making him look like he glittered. He moved his gaze to you and gave a lopsided smile before walking up and gently brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“Wh-?”

“You had flour on your face,” He hummed. His voice was tired like yesterday, and it took all of your power to not melt into his hands right then and there. You almost forgot your mother was in the room.

“I have to help with baking all day, so I’ll have to stay in the kitchen, I’m sorry.” Charlie shook his head.

“I’d love to help, if that’s okay. My mom owns a bakery, so I’m not unfamiliar with baking.”

It reminded you how little you actually knew of him. Sure, you could talk for hours but with such little time in general, there was still a lot you were completely unaware of. The sobering pang of guilt that ran through your nervous system ruined the soft moment between you at the thought of it.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded and you found him another apron to wear, but the only one left that was his size was half of a pair for your parents. Your moms had been stained and discarded a while ago. You tried not to laugh at the awful baking pun on the front, but Charlie seemed to light up as he read the apron. He proceeded to make similar puns throughout the day, and no matter how hard you tried to groan and act like you hated it, you couldn’t fight the smile on your face whenever you heard the pride in his voice while he made one.

Your mother handed baking off to the two of you after the first batch, and you had half a mind to assume it wasn’t because she needed to “do things” like she said, but rather that she was just giving you room to be alone with him. Not that you needed it, you were just two just two friends baking together. ..Though you supposed she didn't know that part.

You sighed as you kneaded the dough in your hands against the counter. You’d been working at it for a couple minutes now and couldn’t figure out what was going wrong or why it wouldn’t come together properly. Charlie walked over from where he was mixing icing and stood next to you to peer at your hands.

“It keeps falling apart, I don’t know what I did wrong...” You glanced at him for a moment before squishing it all together again. Charlie hummed and turned to look for something as you tried to start a proper conversation. “You said your mom owned a bakery? I didn't know that.” He walked back over with something in his hands, and you quickly lost your train of thought as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you to grab the dough, leaning into your ear with a quiet tone.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

You were suddenly very glad he was pressing you against the counter, because you swore your knees would’ve given out from under you right then and there otherwise. Your face felt warm as his chest pressed against your back and his arms flexed on either side of your shoulders. His breath was soft against your ear, and you could almost feel his grin despite how hard you tried to avoid looking at him until you remembered how to breathe and wow, was it warm in here? It was really warm. Maybe you left the oven open? God, it was so warm–

“There. You just needed to add a little moisture. Butter works fine for that.” He slowly pulled away, and it felt like you had freezer burn everywhere he had touched. You peeked at him from the corner of your eye, desperately trying to act normal.

“Yeah.. Thanks.” Your voice cracked as you spoke. Of course it did.

Charlie chuckled and went back over to the icing and checked on it before moving over to where the piping bags sat for now. You took a deep breath and reached for the rolling pin, trying to keep your cool. What the hell was that?? There was nobody but you two in the kitchen right now, right? If that was part of the act, who was it for? Did he see something you hadn’t? Some hopeful part of you piped up with the thought that it wasn’t an act. That he wanted to do that. That he meant it. A much more realistic part of your mind suggested that he simply didn’t realize what that just did to you. From lifting you yesterday to what just happened? Yeah, maybe he was just a little oblivious. You couldn’t see the dramatic irony to this.

After you had finally rolled out the dough and put a few batches into the oven, you moved to help Charlie with the icing. He seemed to be lacking a bit, and it was taking up your cooling racks.

“Need some help over here?” You smiled and glanced around at the cookies.

“Uhh,” He started, squinting as his tongue poked out in focus. “Mm.. Maybe. I thought I'd have more done by now.” Charlie stood up and looked across the eight cookies he had so dutifully iced thus far. His eyebrows furrowed. You grabbed one of the other colours and wiped off the excess that had leaked out with your thumb.

“Don’t worry. Worst case, we just eat the rest of the icing and tell mom we ran out.” You shrugged with a playful grin, bringing the icing on your thumb to your mouth — only for Charlie to grab your hand and steal the icing with his own finger. “Hey–!!”

He shot you a grin as he licked his lips, so you squeezed a little more out. This time he grabbed your wrist and pulled it towards his mouth. You gasped and shoved your hand forwards, smearing it on the corner of his lips and onto his cheek. Five minutes later the two of you were messy and covered in icing, bags now much lighter from smearing it on each other and trying to eat the icing.

You only stopped when there was a knock on the door and your mother walked through the kitchen to reach it, stopping to look at you two with a bewildered gaze for a moment, before continuing on when another knock sounded.

You two looked at each other and tried not to laugh, before you ultimately failed and burst into laughter. It only took one warm cloth and a couple minutes to wipe up most of the mess, meanwhile you heard the door open and the sound of shuffling and muffled talking.

A familiar face poked into the kitchen, breaking out into a grin.

“Ohh, there you are!” Isabella grinned and straightened up, walking in with a bag over her shoulder and her arms out for a hug. You gasped and handed the cloth to Charlie before making your way over to hug her.

“Bella! How are you??” You pulled away and looked her over with a matching smile.

“Not as good as you apparently,” She leaned over to look at Charlie. “Who’s this?”

Her younger sister, Alice, came around the corner and nearly fell over as her socks made her slide to a stop. A shout came from where she had been, likely from her mother scolding her for running in the house.

“Oh my god!!” You quickly felt two arms around your waist as she careened into you for a hug, once again unable to stop short due to her socks. “I missed you so much! It’s been like, forever??” Alice stared up at you with a gasp from where she was bent over to hug you.

“You saw me at Easter, Alice.” You laughed and pulled her up to hug properly, where she quickly gasped again.

“Hello there, handsome-”

“Al, give him a chance to introduce himself before you start with that.” Isabella groaned and pulled her sister back by the shoulder.

You laughed at their usual antics and glanced back at Charlie, who was quickly trying to wipe any leftover flour and icing off himself to look presentable.

“This is Charlie. My boyfriend.” The word came out more confident than when you had said it to your parents, but you tried not to dwell on that.

“Your boyfriend.” Isabella raised her eyebrow suspiciously. “The boyfriend?”

A bit of that guilt came back as a burning sensation in your throat you couldn't quite swallow down. Isabella was always the one to see through your lies no matter how hard you tried. You never quite forgave her for telling your mother you were lying when she found the broken TV as kids.

“Not bad.” She nodded approvingly.

You tried not to make your sigh of relief too obvious.

“Sooo…” Alice started, slipping out of her sister's grasp before looking Charlie up and down. “Got any brothers? Maybe some cute friends..?”

Charlie laughed nervously and pushed his hair out of the way, coming up to your side and leaning against you slightly. Alice could be a bit much at first, so you leaned back against him in what you hoped was read as a reassuring movement.

“I don’t know about that..” He smiled apologetically.

“Alice, come help your father with the bags please?” Your Aunt Ashley’s voice came from somewhere closer out of sight, saving Charlie from this conversation for now. He sighed, but you knew better. She’d be back.

A dinging started behind you signaling that the oven timer was through, causing Charlie to pat your shoulder as he turned to get it. Conversation with Isabella came as easy as ever, only for her to fall silent after a minute. You turned and followed her gaze to see Charlie bent over pulling out a rack of cookies. His hair fell over his face and the apron hugged him rather nicely. Any heat on your face was silently blamed on the open oven.

“Nice.”

You scoffed and shoved her halfheartedly. You weren't disagreeing with her, but she didn't need to say it.

Charlie turned and kicked the oven door shut in one smooth motion, raising the tray with a grin as he moved to the cooling trays.

“Bella, was it? Care for a snack?” He motioned to the pile of undecorated cookies, then glanced at the subtle remains of your icing fight and quickly smudged it away with his hand.

Isabella glanced at you, then at him. She didn't need to say it, there was some snarky comment bouncing around up there loud enough for you to hear it anyways. She had always been like this, since you were kids really. It drove her mother mad, but she managed to worm her way out of any sort of punishment every time. You really wished you knew how she did it.

“Yeah, I'll take a cookie.” She shrugged and raised a hand. Charlie looked at you, then around for your mother, and tossed a cookie toward your cousin.

They quickly got settled in, already having usual places from how often they come over for more than a night, meanwhile you and Charlie finished up what baking was left and tidied up the kitchen.

You moved in such sync that it almost felt natural, like this is what you were meant to be doing with your time. It made you feel warm inside, easily passing things to him and sweeping as he wiped the counters down. By the end, the kitchen looked like it had never been touched and smelled like all sorts of freshly baked treats.

The sun had already begun to set, and you had managed to escape the constant questions of your Aunt for now. You loved her, really! But from the moment she had seen you it was a hug, a kiss on each cheek and nonstop questions ever since. Doing your best to answer didn't seem to help much either because every answer opened up a hundred more questions thrown at you too fast to possibly answer them all. Sure, you felt a little guilty throwing Charlie under the bus here by slipping away when he would surely be the next victim, but he had it handled! … Probably.

The front of the house was shoveled to create a simple salted walkway that you followed to the front of the garage to sit on the hood of your car.

“Oh, hey.”

Your attention was caught by Isabella leaning against your parents car, out of sight of the windows and front door. She had something in her hand that she pressed to her lips and pulled away, turning her head to exhale smoke. Oh. That was how she stood her own mother.

“Hey, Bella.” You walked up and leaned against your car across from her, to which she held the pen out to you.

“Hey. Wanna hit?”

“No, thanks. I'm trying to at least keep it together for the week.” You laughed and shook your head a little, putting your hands in your pockets as you looked out across the street at the glittering snow and colourful lights.

“Ohh, yeah. Trying to keep it together for that so-called boyfriend of yours, right?”

“... So-called?”

“Yeah,” She chuckled and nodded. “There's no way you're actually dating him, right?”

“Look, if you have something against Charlie-”

“No, dumbass. He's fine. I'm talking about you.”

You stared at her, confused. So, she continued. “You guys have something going on, but whatever it is, it isn't dating. Not for as long as you say, at least. So either you've been lying about this guy and only recently started dating, or you aren't dating at all and you're faking it.”

“When did you get so perceptive?” You crossed your arms. Trying to lie to her would get you nowhere. “And what's it matter to you?”

She shrugged and took another puff, blowing it into the wind away from you.

“It's not too hard to see. You might have to step your game up though. If Alice catches on it's over for you.” Isabella joked. “I dunno why, though. It doesn't seem like you to pull this kind of stunt.”

Sighing, you figured hiding it from her would only make things worse.

“I got dumped over text by my actual boyfriend.”

There was a beat, and then Isabella broke out into laughter, covering her mouth.

“Over text??”

You gave her an unimpressed look.

“Oh my god- You aren't gonna let that slide, right? You totally have got to kick his ass for that one.” She shook her head, trying to stifle her giggles. After a couple moments she took a deep breath. “Have you even let yourself come to terms with that? I mean, c’mon. When was it?”

“A couple days ago. Just before we drove out.”

Isabella's eyes bulged.

“And you're just? Okay with that?? Acting like nothing happened? Cuz’ you gotta, like, go kick his ass and then properly cry about that or something. You earned it after it. … Can I see the text?”

Sighing, you pulled your phone out and opened the texts, handing it to her. Isabella nodded as she read over it and hissed.

“What an asshole…” There was a minute of silence as she handed you back your phone and took another hit. “I'm sure your man in there wouldn't do the same, though.”

“Oh shut up-” You shoved her, to which she laughed.

“I’m just saying! He seems like prime boyfriend material. You should get on that. Literally.”

The two of you continued talking a little, and you really had to reckon with that thought. Did you like him that much? Surely you wouldn't be having these feelings about anyone else had they come, right? She pocketed her pen and went inside, leaving you to watch the occasional car drive by and the lights on each house flash and change. Eventually you followed her back in and hung up your coat, grabbing a pair of cookies as you made your way back to the main gathering. Charlie was sat on the couch trying to keep up with the conversation, so you just sat next to him and handed a cookie. He lit up at the sight of you and thanked you as he took it, wrapping an arm around your shoulders when you leaned up against him.

Isabella gave you a playful look, to which you rolled your eyes and slightly moved closer to Charlie.

You found yourself warming up to the thought of this being something you could strive for, something reasonable and within reach. When that guilt started to rise again, Charlie squeezed your shoulders and made a small joke. The warmth of his arm and his tone drove away whatever bad feelings there were in your mind. Right now, everything was okay. You and Charlie were warm and happy and having a good time. That's all that mattered.

Considering you had a much earlier start than usual, you excused yourself to bed and Charlie quickly agreed. Isabella made some comment about you two having fun, and you had to try not to laugh as her mother smacked her arm. You walked up the stairs after Charlie and changed in your respective places. After you finished you fell into the bed and sighed, shutting your eyes. There was a knock and Charlie walked in a moment later, seeing you there.

“Tired?”

You nodded, letting out some sort of groan in response.

“Yeah, me too. I'm whipped.”

You peeked an eye open to see him grinning.

“Charlie.”

“Completely cooked. ” He walked over to his side of the bed.

“That doesn't even make sense.”

“I'm just saying…” Charlie followed your lead and fell onto the bed, smiling at you when you turned to look at him. “We really got that bread.”

“Stop.”

“Hey, at least I wasn't like your cousin. She was baked.”

You groaned loudly and shoved a hand into his face, biting your lip to stop from giving him the reaction he was looking for. Charlie laughed and pulled your hand away, continuing to make awful quips until the two of you fell asleep.

In the early light of Christmas Eve, you slowly blinked to life after a dream that was already melting away like watercolours before realizing there was something warm wrapped around you. In your haze, and the chill of the room around you. This didn’t ring any alarms in your mind at first, instead opting to hold it closer. You entwined your fingers with the ones against your stomach before you stopped. Fingers? Blinking open your eyes, you look down and see what you immediately put together to be Charlie’s arm wrapped around you. The world seems to hold its breath as you do, carefully picking up his arm and moving it back onto his own chest. He groans and stretches, and you quickly avert your gaze as his shirt rides up. Looking through your closet is when you hear him yawn and the bed creaks slightly as he sits up. You poke your head out and smile at him.

“Good morning.”

He rubs his eyes and yawns again, looking over to find you, nodding and smiling softly.

“Good morning. Anything planned for today..?”

You hummed and grabbed your clothes for the day.

“I think it’s just going to be a lot of socializing. The kids are all excited for Christmas tomorrow and most of the adults are here. It uh…” You hesitate and glance away in thought, before looking back to Charlie apologetically. “It might be a bit stuffy today. I’m sure we’re gonna get swarmed with those cliche family questions that they’ve been nice enough to hold off on. Once that wine gets uncorked though, we’re in for it. Ashley is well acquainted with how to pour a new glass of wine…”

Charlie laughed and stretched again, standing up and moving over to his suitcase to grab clothes. The two of you split up to get dressed and walked down the stairs together.

The day was warm and filled with your family running about and chatting, but you knew this was tame compared to what tomorrow would look like. Christmas music filled every silence and there were multiple glasses of eggnog laying around. The tree looked more and more full as new gifts were added to the underside, eventually spilling out and off the tree skirt. Conversations felt like the same interaction over and over again, asking how they were, they asked how you were. You’d give the same generic answers over and over with a little extra here and there for flavour depending on who you were talking to. Sure, it was repetitive and a little boring at times, but it was Christmas, and this was the most you’d talk to some of these people all year. It wasn’t that you were distant, they just had their own busy lives.

Charlie would occasionally pop in and join the conversation, talking about his own life when asked, or about one of your made up stories of your supposed love life. That guilt swirled in your gut again, rising like bile in your throat. Your realization last night wasn't helping either, making this even worse. The way he got along with your family so easily, the way they would make remarks when he wasn't there about how lucky you were to have found him. Honestly, you agreed. You couldn't understand how you'd lucked into getting such a wonderful man to ever agree to such a stupid plan, but here he was, playing the part perfectly.

Stepping into the backyard and out of the general hum of chatter in the house, you took a deep breath. The cold winter air stung in such a sobering way that it calmed you instantly. It was just an act, you reminded yourself. You'll go back to school and act like this never happened. Sure, your relationship with him would have changed by now, but what did that matter? It didn't change that this meant nothing. You were just putting on an act for your family.

Your feelings were different, but how could you possibly bring up the thought of actually dating after this? Sure, nothing had gone too wrong - which you were thankful for - but surely it would be awkward to drive home just to ask him out again, right? Considering he had agreed just for entertainment's sake, you figured he probably didn't share your feelings. Sure, he’d been much more forward than you had expected but maybe that was part of his act.

Wallowing in your wishy-washy thoughts, you almost missed the way the door opened and shut behind you, and Charlie stepped out with his jacket on. He smiled and gave a quiet wave as he walked over and sat on the side of the porch next to you, bumping his shoulder into yours.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

You two didn’t say more than that for a while, sitting there and watching the stars in the sky as snow started to fall. It was hard to see the stars normally at home, so you appreciated every moment you could watch them glitter and shine. The snow was small and light as it fell, flashing little shimmers of light caught from the house behind you. Charlie stayed silent in your peripheral vision, and you let your leg fall against his. Sure, this was all an act, but it felt nice nonetheless. Would it be so bad to allow yourself the guilty pleasure of enjoying this just a little?

A shooting star flashed across the sky, disappearing so quickly you almost weren't sure you’d seen it in the first place. You gasped as you pointed to the sky and turned to Charlie, only to see him staring at you.

“Did you see that? The shooting star??”

“Oh,” He breathed and looked up at the sky. “No, I must've just missed it. Are you gonna make a wish? Make sure you get what you want for Christmas?”

You looked at the sky again too and tilted your head. Sure, you could’ve made a wish. You could have wished for a lot of things. Good grades, a better new year, a new car might be nice, but…

“Honestly? I don’t need to.” You shook your head and turned to face Charlie with a smile. “I already got what I really wanted for Christmas.”

“Really? You haven’t even opened any presents.” Charlie laughed a little, looking at you.

There were snowflakes adorning his hair and eyelashes, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold outside. Each breath he took let out a little puff that circled his head and made him glow under the moonlight.

“I couldn’t ask for anything better than you.”

His face changed, ever so slightly, but you kept talking.

“I mean, honestly, you were the best thing I think I ever could have asked for. You showed up right when I needed help and you didn’t turn me away or call me crazy when I asked you to do this with me. My parents love you, I’m sure my aunts and uncles are going to miss you from every other family gathering I attend, and you get along with my cousins like you’ve always been part of the family. You’re an amazing guy, Charlie. You’re funny and sweet and so, so genuine that I just… I don’t know how to thank you enough for this. You saved me from what would’ve been a week of the same question over and over again, having to tell everyone that my ex wasn’t what I thought he was. Embarrassing myself. Stuff like that doesn’t die in this family, y’know? I mean, Alice still gets it from people about this boy she dated in middle school who embarrassed her. I couldn’t handle that this Christmas.” As you finished your ramble, you looked him in the eyes and felt your heart tighten. He looked.. Upset. It wasn’t anger, probably, but he looked conflicted. Maybe hurt? “Charlie?-”

“I..” His hand twitched in his lap, starting to move before it fell limp against his lap again. He took a deep breath and avoided your gaze. “I think I should go.”

“What? Charlie, wait- Did I say something?-”

Shaking his head, Charlie stood up and brushed the snow off of him before quickly going back inside.

Your stomach writhed with even more guilt as the area around you was silent, save for the whistling of the wind that drove a chill down your back. Did you just ruin something? Did you say too much and let your feelings leak through? Maybe you had made him uncomfortable with such an emotional confession. Tears stung your eyes as a lump gathered in your throat. It was Christmas Eve and you had just fucked up.

Snow continued to fall around you, swirling in the wind as you put your head in your arms, trying not to cry. You weren't sure how long you spent out there, but when you couldn't feel your cheeks anymore, you had figured it was long enough that you should probably go inside and warm up before you got frostbite.

It seemed like all of your family had gone to sleep by now, and the lights were slowly being turned out one by one as your mother made her way around the house. She caught up with you in the den, watching you stare at the lights on the Christmas tree. New presents had appeared since the kids had gone to sleep, labeled that they were from Santa. A set of bikes, newly stuffed stockings, even the milk and cookies had been taken from to keep up the magic. The kids would love it.

“Merry Christmas, honey.” She came up beside you, her smile faltering when she saw your face. “What's wrong?”

“I think I messed up, mom.” You sniffled and the sting of tears made themselves known again. Turning to face her, the Christmas lights lit up the room with soft colour and reflected off her face that made the world seem just a bit less real. You figured it would be best to just admit it. “I.. Charlie isn't actually my boyfriend.”

Your mother raised her eyebrows and nodded, leading you to the dining room to sit at the table. The wood was cool against your skin as you tried your best not to choke up or spiral any further. You had already made a mess, you just had to figure out how to clean it up. When your mother sat down across from you and took your hands in hers, you continued.

“He isn't my boyfriend. My actual boyfriend dumped me a day before we drove out here over text because he.. Wanted to work on himself, I guess? I probably should have listened when my friends told me they thought they saw him with someone else at a party. I thought he was good, Mom. I really thought he was different, like everything I said he was. And then he suddenly ended things and- And I wasn't sure what to do, I couldn't come home without anybody. It would've been salt in the wound to be humiliated in front of everyone after letting myself get hurt like that.

And then I found Charlie, and I asked if he was willing to just.. Come and pretend to be my boyfriend and- Honestly I didn't expect him to agree at all. But he did. He did, and he's so..” You laughed tearfully and shook your head. “He's so perfect. He's everything I thought my actual boyfriend was. It's like it all comes naturally to him, like he doesn't even have to try to be funny and make people comfortable. You saw how well he got along with everyone this week, and you said yourself you love him! But I… It was supposed to be easy. A week of avoiding embarrassment with a guy I only sort of knew, and then we would go back to school and I’d tell everyone we broke up. Make it seem like this whole thing where I threw him out and I was in the right. Not dumped over text.

But I don't think I can do that, Mom. I.. I think I’m in love with him? How could I not? He's been nothing but kind and perfect to me and so sweet and I never want this week to end because I know that it means things will go back to normal and I don't know how to ask anything more of him after this- I don't even know why he agreed to this in the first place!! But I tried to tell him how much I appreciated him outside earlier and he looked so… Upset. Like I had done something wrong, and then he said he had to go and came inside. And-” The world blurred and smeared as tears filled your vision. “I think- I think I might've ruined what little I had with him-”

Your mother nodded, listening to you ramble on with an intent look on her face. She squeezed your hands and brought them to her mouth to kiss. Taking a deep breath, she nodded and looked at you until you silently took a couple of breaths yourself.

“Honey… I don’t think you ruined anything. Charlie seems like a wonderful man, he would tell you if you had truly ruined anything. He didn't seem angry when he came in, I saw your uncle ask if he was heading upstairs and he just seemed a little.. lost with himself.” She shook her head and smiled. “I knew from the stars you two weren't dating.”

“What??” Your eyebrows furrowed. Were you really that obvious?

“You had said things about your boyfriend that didn't quite line up with Charlie. Things you wouldn't have said about him, that I'm sure you had just forgotten you said.”

“Mom I’m sorry-” She cut you off by squeezing your hands again.

“Don't be sorry, dear. I knew you had feelings for him anyways.” You gave her a quizzical look, going to speak before she answered your question. “Mothers always know these kinds of things. I know how you act, and I love you, but honey you're not the best actor in the family… I've been watching you two all week, and I’m surprised you haven't said something sooner. I would've kept it to myself, though, because I think you need to see how this plays out.”

“I don't know how I can fix this though, Mom. I- I don't even know what I did wrong!”

She smiled knowingly.

“I don't think you did anything wrong, dear. But if you keep these feelings to yourself I think you'll find yourself worse off than if you didn't.” Your mother squeezed your hands again before letting go and standing up. “I've seen the way he looks at you, too. When he thinks nobody is looking, or when you aren't paying attention. When he thinks nobody but you and him are there.” Patting your shoulder as she walked towards the stairs, she gave you one last smile. “It’s Christmas after all. Maybe you got another gift you didn't know you asked for.”

With that, she bid you goodnight and made her way upstairs to her bedroom, leaving you alone in the dining room under the light. The house was near silent aside from the whistling outside of the wind.

You shut the light off and swallowed as you tried to reason through your mothers words. She was a bit of an optimist, so maybe she was just being hopeful, or maybe she was right. Maybe she had seen something you hadn't yet noticed.

The door to your room was left slightly open when you walked up, giving a soft knock as you pushed the door open. Charlie was under the blankets on his far side of the bed. There was no movement other than the steady breathing of his chest. You changed quickly and walked up to the bed, hesitating.

“Charlie..? Are you awake?” Your voice was quiet and dry. There was no answer from Charlie, and he hardly even shifted. Assuming he was asleep, you sighed and resigned yourself to sleeping on your far side of the bed, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. Tomorrow would be the busiest day of all and if you had done something to upset him, you really weren't sure how well this would go. Maybe it would have been all for naught if you went and messed things up on Christmas Eve. Drifting to sleep as you tried to ignore the way the soft sound of his breathing made you feel, one final sigh made your exit from the waking world known.

You were woken in darkness, blinking your eyes open to barely see Charlie in the very same knitted sweater he had shown you at the start of the week.

“Good morning sleepyhead.”

You groaned and rubbed your eyes, yawning.

“It's still dark..?”

“Merry Christmas.” Charlie's voice was little more than a whisper, and you felt yourself smile at the pure warmth of the tone.

“Oh… Merry Christmas..”

“Your little cousins are running from room to room, I figured I would wake you up a little nicer than that.”

“You're too sweet, Charlie..” You hummed and looked up at him. Even in the darkness he looked beautiful, and you blearily wondered if you were still dreaming. Having such a wonderful man wake you in your bed to go downstairs for Christmas morning with your family, not a care in the world, seemed like a dream come true.

“I'll go stand in the hall and let you change, I think if someone doesn't stop Elliot he's gonna tear open every package and parcel he can get his hands on.” Charlie quietly slipped out of the room and you immediately heard him make his presence known to the distant chaos you slowly became aware of as you woke up.

… Okay, there were a few cares in your world. The strangeness of last night came back to you slowly. You had expected him to be cold, maybe. Or mad. At least a little upset! But he spoke to you like you were a literal angel, like waking you any faster than your body wanted to would have broken you. It was attractive, to say the least.

A scream from downstairs broke you of your thoughts and you remembered there were gifts with children's names on them, and they wouldn't wait around for you.

Stepping up to your closet, you fished out the sweater you had told Charlie about, smiling down at it. It was a bit old and a gift from your Grandmother, but it still fit nicely and had softened over the years to be a little less itchy. You wore a shirt underneath just to be safe.

With each step down the stairs you had to take a breath and remind yourself that you had an act to put on with Charlie. If you had messed up, you at least owed it to him to keep your attitude nice for the day. You were both adults, you knew any issues you had could be resolved in due time. Charlie wouldn't just let it fester if you had hurt his feelings or said something wrong, right? You had to hope that was the case, at least.

Right as you step off the last step, your younger cousins come running up to you with excitement, shouting about Santa Claus, the half eaten cookies, and the new gifts. You do your best to wave off the lingering sleep in your mind to match their enthusiasm. When that's enough to satisfy them before they can actually open their gifts, they loudly run off to their next victims – You catch Charlie's eye from across the den.

His eyes crinkle at the sight of you, then flick down to your sweater and he sits up, pointing at his own for a moment with his mouth slightly agape, before patting the seat beside him enthusiastically. It takes you a moment to mentally unstick your feet from the floor and walk over to him. It was Christmas morning in front of your family - if anything was wrong, this was probably your last reprieve before things fully went wrong and you could see the damages. As selfish as it sounded, you felt as though you should take advantage of that.

“So you really do have a matching sweater?” Charlie giggled and pulled you down to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around you. “I'm glad you decided to match with me.”

“And leave you hanging? Just wait until you see whatever Mom has got on this year. It's gonna put both of us to shame.” You leaned in to whisper as early morning chaos still reigned.

“Hey lovebirds, say cheese!” Your aunt had her phone out already, and you perked up just in time to smile as the flash dazzled you and Charlie.

“You ready for a whole day of.. That?” You glanced to Charlie, who chuckled.

“Bring it on.”

Rolling your eyes, you waited for everyone to wake up and join the family in the den. The younger kids instantly started opening gifts and throwing wrapping paper everywhere when they were given the go ahead. Eventually your dad started a garbage bag of scraps and tried his best to rally the kids into one area with their new toys as the adults started opening their much smaller gifts.

It was always amusing watching people open gifts, seeing the way even grown adults would get excited over certain things they wanted, or how they tried to hide their dislike or disappointment over certain other gifts. One of your aunts was given an ornate music box that seemed to be hand-crafted, and it seemed like she was ready to cry as she hugged your uncle, thanking him. Meanwhile one of your uncles got a pair of socks with little reindeer printed on them, and you swore you could see him try to set them on fire with his eyes.

Charlie would lift his arm whenever it was your turn to open something, watching you make a neat little pile at your feet of opened gifts. He seemed content to just sit and watch, making little jokes about certain gifts until your father walked over with a small box. He lifted his arm again, but your dad held the box to him a little more insistently.

“Wh.. For me-?” Charlie pointed at himself and sat up, taking it hesitantly.

“Well… We didn't want you to feel left out, but the stores were a bit scarce so close to the holiday when I went to get you something. So we hope it's okay.” Your dad smiled and nodded, stepping back to his place by the tree.

Charlie looked at you a bit bewildered, and carefully tore open the wrapping paper. It was a couple of Pokémon card packs from the store, and a set of six-sided dice. You almost went to say something about how they just did their best to understand, but Charlie's eyes lit up as he pulled them out of the box, carefully holding the dice as he inspected them. It was a set of black dice with white dots, subtly reflecting the lights on the tree.

“You didn't..” He looked up at your parents and shook his head slowly. “You didn't have to get me anything.” His hand slipped into yours, squeezing so tight it shook a little. Glancing at Charlie, you could tell he was trying so hard to play it cool, but the way his lips twitched and fought off a grin was undermining all of his attempts.

Your mother shook her head.

“What kind of parents in law would we be if we left you out?? We’ll get you something better next year, we promise.” She sent a wink your way, and you knew it was more for you than it was Charlie. You tried to ignore the warmth that crawled up your neck at the implication there. Next year. Did she really have that much faith in you to fix things? Did she have so much confidence in her ability to see what you can't that she believed Charlie would come home with you next year?

The next gift was picked, and Charlie turned to you with wide, excited eyes as he held up the card packs. It snapped you out of your thoughts and you smiled at him. You hadn't expected it would make him so happy, but the way he glowed was so much better than you could've imagined.

“I take it you're happy then?” You whispered, and he nodded, flipping through the handful of packs.

“I didn't- They didn't need to get me anything! I didn't expect to get anything..”

“Well,” You shrugged and leaned against him, sighing. “If you're part of the family, they're gonna get you something. I'm just glad I didn't tell them what he would've wanted, in case they got something you would've hated.”

Charlie shook his head as he chose one of the packs, setting the others down in his lap gently.

“I wasn't expecting anything, though. I would've enjoyed just watching you open things.” He fiddled with the wrapping of the pack and you looked down at it, then up at him.

“Well.. Go on.”

“What?”

“Open the pack. I wanna see what you got.”

He smiles and you set your head on his shoulder, watching as he opens the pack and flicks through the cards. He explains each card to you, explaining the differences on each of them, and you were more than happy to let him quietly ramble on as he grabbed the next pack.

“Do you wanna open this one?”

“Nah. All yours.”

Charlie nods, peeling open the next pack. It was impressive how quickly he put you at ease, and you couldn't find it in yourself to worry about what may come later, so long as you could stay in the moment of him explaining the rarity of certain cards. It was cute.

The rest of the day went by in a blur as people showed up and left, some family friends popping in for the day just to visit, a few neighbours showing up to gift some treats that you watched your younger cousins sneak into just a little too early. Your mother walked around at one point with her phone facetiming your grandmother, who insisted on having an entire conversation about you wearing the sweater, to which you just had to drag Charlie into frame to show that you were matching. This started a whole new slough of questions about your relationship, and the two of you had to explain repeatedly that you weren't ready for marriage, let alone kids.

Christmas music played loudly and the sound of far too many conversations loudly filled the air during the afternoon, and after being pulled between so many, you found your head was spinning too fast to keep up with, so you snuck out to the front foyer for a bit of space. Charlie seemed to have the same idea as he stumbled out of the kitchen, followed by the sound of your uncles laughing.

“They aren't getting to you in there, are they? Do I need to go tell them to lay off?” You teased lightly, leaning against the doorway as you took a deep breath.

“Pshh, No..” Charlie shook his head and walked up to you with a warm smile, though you noticed his cheeks were slightly pink. “Just got a little warm in there. Your family is really, uh..”

“Nosy?”

“Thorough.”

You laughed loudly and shook your head as you straightened up. Your gaze drifts up and your face falls slightly.

Mistletoe.

Charlie's gaze follows yours and he freezes. The buzz of the house seems to fade away as you focus on it, as if you found yourself locked in this little bubble with Charlie, and suddenly every guilty feeling writhed under your skin all at once.

“Oh.”

“I'm- I’m sorry,” You start, shaking your head as you turn to step to the side. You had been doing so well acting normal, of course you'd find yourself under the very same mistletoe he helped you hang. “We can move-”

“Wait.”

Charlie's arm stops you, and you look at his face to see him flushed, with the same expression from when you started talking last night.

“I..” He shifts, and you move back to standing under the mistletoe with him, looking at him intently. “I know that when you asked me to help you with this, you were a bit desperate and just looking for somebody to help you, and I’m sure I wasn't your first choice considering how little time we had spent together, but… This week has been the best week of my life I think, and I don't ever want it to end if it means we have to go back to the way things were. I don't want to go another day without hearing your voice, or watching you try not to laugh at my jokes - which I know you think are funny. I know this was mostly to save face in front of your family and that we haven't gotten much of a chance to genuinely get to know each other, but I would love to get to know you better, if I can.” His eyes soften and the confliction on his face fades into something much more vulnerable. Charlie's hands move up to your shoulders, and that feeling of freezer burn starts radiating under his touch again. “I want more of this, if you're okay with that. More of you.”

Charlie's eyes flicker between your own, carefully watching as you stand there, stunned.

“And.. Stop me, if I’ve taken this wrong. If my attempts to get your attention this week have been unwarranted. Stop me if this isn't what you want.” His hand moves to your cheek. “Please.”

You don't stop him, shaking your head and leaning into his hand.

“I won't.”

Charlie smiles as he pulls your face to his, gently kissing you for just a moment. He pulls away, just enough to breathe. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and quickly pull him into a deeper kiss.

The sound of cheers and whoops fill the hall and you pull away to see a handful of family members standing in the hallway, watching you two. Your mom gives you a knowing smile before you stare and silently wave them all off. Isabella is the last one to leave, holding her phone up with a mischievous grin and a thumbs up.

Charlie chuckled lowly and kissed your cheek, and when you were sure your little audience had dispersed, you two smiled at each other and kissed again.

“I told you I’d surprise you.”

“You didn't let me down.”

The rest of the night was full of playful gazes and quick kisses when nobody's looking. Quiet whispers of private conversation passed back and forth with no room for anyone to eavesdrop. Gentle touches and subtle movements, with something a little more genuine behind them – you find that not much changes in these little acts from the rest of the week, as if they've always had the same intent behind them just with more hesitation.

Dinner goes about as well as you'd expect, with one of your uncles trying to stir up some trouble and having to be talked down as a big scene was made. Usually you'd be much more upset about this sort of thing, but whenever you sighed or tensed up, Charlie's hand squeezed yours from under the table, and everything was okay again. You stayed up and drank a little after with the rest of the adults in the family, the conversations around the house a little more soft spoken, albeit a little more loose lipped as well. Those who were either already planning on staying, or had drank more than they meant to, trickled off one by one to their rooms, and slowly the unused lights were turned off until it was you and Charlie alone in the den with the glittering lights of the tree.

Sure, you were a few drinks in, but so was he as the two of you hummed and danced along to the Christmas music emanating from the radio. His arms wrapped around you and it was like there was nothing else in the world you could possibly bring yourself to think about other than the smell of Charlie and the sound of his low hums as he swayed you two back and forth.

You knew there would have to be a proper conversation about what you two were going to do now, about what this meant for your relationship and how it would affect the people around you, but for now, you were content with what you had, which was Charlie in your arms, smiling warmly at you.

The song changed to something more upbeat, and he grinned, laughing a little as he pulled away and spun you to the tune. The two of you kept up with singing along, even if you wavered a little as Charlie pulled you along. It was fun and it was carefree and you were very dizzy by the end, where Charlie leaned you into a dip and smiled down at you.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie.”

“Merry Christmas, Angel.”