Chapter 2 #2
“Do you think I’d be upset if you were hitting on me?” I asked, laughing when his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open a bit in shock at my words. “I wouldn’t,” I added helpfully, in case I’d left that statement ambiguous.
“But I, uh…” I waited patiently as he stammered out the words. “I’d have to be a huge jerk to offer you a place to sleep and then hit on you, knowing you don’t have anywhere else to go if you feel uncomfortable.”
“You’re right. You would be a huge jerk if you did that. That’s why I’m letting you know that it wouldn’t make me uncomfortable.” I paused, tilting my head as I studied his reaction. “Although, now it seems I’m the one making you uncomfortable.”
“You’re not!” he denied. “Seriously, you’re not,” he repeated, calmer this time. “I’m just not really used to this kind of thing.”
“What kind of thing?”
“Um, flirting, I guess. Having someone in my house that I haven’t known since before I learned the alphabet,” he added, and I snorted. “Meeting new people is hard for me.”
“I think you’re doing quite well, actually,” I encouraged him. It seemed like no one in the world had ever done that before.
“Thanks. That’s nice of you.”
The silence stretched out for a bit, punctuated by the sounds of us finishing the meal, but surprisingly, it was a comfortable silence.
Maybe he’d realized that he didn’t have anything to be nervous about with me.
Sure, he thought I was cute, but I’d made it clear that I thought he was cute too.
Nothing to feel anxious about in that case, right?
“So, Meadow,” he finally voiced. “Feel free to say no, but…”
“But?”
“I kind of have this tradition…”
I raised my eyebrow, following suit when he set his now emptied plate onto the coffee table. “Does your tradition involve inviting random strangers you meet in the park back to your apartment?”
He groaned a little, squeezing his eyes closed, but he was grinning. “Only this year. Actually, my parents always throw this gigantic holiday party a few days before Christmas. The night before I have to drive up to that, I always do this, like, cozy night in thing.”
“Please tell me more,” I said, intrigued. I had some ideas for what we could spend the night doing too, though I wasn’t sure they’d be classified as cozy.
He laughed, still looking sheepish and embarrassed. “It’s not anything exciting. Just some Christmas movies and hot chocolate. But I make amazing hot chocolate, I promise you. With whipped cream and sprinkles and a toasted marshmallow on top.”
The corner of my mouth perked up as I processed his words. The idea of him cuddled on the couch with a cheesy, sparkling holiday movie playing on the TV and a mug of extra indulgent hot chocolate was too adorable.
“Oh god,” he finally said, after the weight of my silence settled onto him. “I’m so lame. Sorry for even saying anything. Just forget—”
"How could I possibly say no to amazing hot chocolate?” I said.
With obvious relief on his face, he yanked up the remote to turn on some appropriately cheery and holiday-based programming.
We’d both seen the movie before, so we chatted a bit while it played.
I’d actually watched it when it had originally come out in the ‘70s, but I didn’t mention that part.
He knew the words to all the songs, which was impressive and made it clear just how much he enjoyed the holiday season.
The longer we sat together, the more natural it felt to joke around with each other.
I started to realize I wasn’t just attracted to him, I actually liked him as a person.
Once the first movie was done, he demanded we take a quick break so he could whip up the promised treats.
Leaning my hip on the counter in his kitchen, I watched as he broke up pieces of chocolate into a pot of milk, then plugged in a small metal device he informed me was for toasting the marshmallows.
He rambled a bit about the perfect temperature for the milk, just enough to warm it but not hot enough to scald, and the preferred technique for golden brown marshmallows.
“You must be excited for this big party tomorrow,” I remarked as he stirred.
“Not exactly,” he admitted, glancing back at me for a moment.
“You?” I answered, injecting my tone with shock. “Mr. Christmas himself isn’t excited for a Christmas party?”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “I know it seems weird, but it’s not the party, really. It’s my parents.”
“Ah.” That I could understand perfectly. I’d been avoiding my parents for decades, which was why I spent so much time in the human realm. “You don’t get along with them?”
“It’s not that. It’s just…” He trailed off and suddenly became very focused on the pot again.
“You don’t want to talk about it?”
“It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“I’m surprised my general appearance hasn’t given this away yet, but I’m not exactly the judgmental type.”
He laughed. “No, I pretty much got that. You know, most people think I’m weird, but unless you’re a really good actor, it seems like maybe you… kind of like hanging out with me?”
“I’m having a lovely time,” I confirmed.
“Okay, so if you promise not to judge me, it’s just that…
” He hesitated again, hissing out a breath as he carefully hovered a tiny fork with a marshmallow at the end of it over the hot toasting device.
“Every year, my mom tells me to bring a date, and every year, I show up by myself like a total loser.”
“Have you considered starting a relationship just before? Even if it doesn’t work out, you’d at least have someone to bring to the party.”
“Meadow,” he started, his voice surprisingly dry. “I’ve been trying to start a relationship every day of the year, pretty much my whole life.”
Frowning at his tone, I tilted my head. “Someone like you really has that much trouble finding a partner?”
“You have no idea.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve tried any of those… dating apps?”
He groaned as he poured the contents of the pot into two large mugs. One had Rudolph’s face printed on it, complete with glowing nose, and the other had a jolly Santa Claus.
“They’re the worst.” Bitter unhappiness dripped from his words, surprising me.
I didn’t like the way this particular topic was making him feel, but I wondered if my idea was too forward, even for the strange situation we’d found ourselves in, albeit willingly.
“I either get rejected before we can even have a conversation, or they meet me in person and never speak to me again after the date’s over. ”
I’d never faced problems like he was describing, but it was different for faeries.
Humans were nearly always enamored with us, pretty much immediately.
It was incredibly easy to use their infatuation for gifts and attention, which I’d done a fair bit of in my younger days.
But someone like Miles, so earnest and kind, I could never even consider exploiting like that.
Plus, if I was being honest, I found myself more attracted to him than I had been with other humans I’d spent time with in the past. He was so different.
It was funny. I wondered if how I felt about him was how other men had felt about me.
Drawn to me against their will, with no real solid explanation as to why.
But, like them, I was fairly certain I didn’t mind.
“I’m doubtful I’d be what you or your parents have in mind as a suitable partner for you, but I’d love to attend the party. If that would make you happy,” I tacked on at the end, only because I wasn’t entirely sure it was an appropriate offer.
He froze in the middle of shaking up a can of whipped cream, slowly turning his head to face me. “Really? You would do that?” he asked, a hopeful note ringing clear in the words.
“Sure.” In truth, I was starting to become sort of desperate to learn more about him, spend more time with him. Anything extending beyond this one night that had been guaranteed to me.
“No, no,” he said instantly, turning his back to me. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s too much. And anyway, you don’t need to pay me back for letting you sleep over or anything.”
“I hadn’t considered it as a way to pay you back,” I said honestly. “I just thought it might be fun.”
“You think pretending to be my date would be fun?”
I considered the question for a moment as he finished assembling the drinks.
Steaming hot cocoa, generous swirls of whipped cream, a sprinkle of cinnamon and flecks of the chocolate he’d crushed up, and a perfectly toasted marshmallow resting in the pillowy, speckled foam.
I waited for him to turn back and face me before answering.
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to pretend to be your date,” I finally said, reaching out to stroke my fingers over the collar of his shirt.
It wasn’t a particularly lewd touch, but I hoped it made it clear how I felt.
He fumbled the can he’d been in the midst of putting away, and it clattered loudly onto the floor.
“Sorry,” he apologized, yanking it up, although it had already damaged both our eardrums. “I, uh… are you just being nice, or do you really mean that?”
“I really mean it. And I’m also being nice,” I added, smirking a bit.
“You’re not just saying that because you feel bad for me?”
“No.” I watched as he put away the rest of the ingredients.
“If you think it would be weird, or you wouldn’t know how to explain me to your parents, then I understand.
My feelings won’t be hurt if you say no,” I said, then immediately realized that wasn’t entirely true.
Did I really have an emotional investment in him already?
Someone I’d just met? And a human, at that.
As fun as they could be to toy around with, I’d never gotten particularly attached to one.
“Not at all,” he said before gesturing to the mugs on the counter. “Let’s take these back to the living room and I’ll, um, kind of explain what it’ll be like. Just so you know what you’d be getting into.”