Chapter 10 Max
TEN
MAX
So yeah. It’s a date.
I knew it the second he looked at me across that booth with whipped cream on his lip, grinning like he had me figured out.
I knew it when I paid for his burger and pie without thinking twice.
And I really knew it when he grabbed me by the jacket outside the diner and kissed me as if we’d been heading toward it all night.
And god help me—I kissed him back.
Snow still clings to my lashes, my breath fogging between us, but my lips are warm in a way that has nothing to do with the coffee still buzzing in my veins. He’s warm. Too warm. And for one long, out-of-control heartbeat, I wanted more.
Which is the problem.
I shouldn’t want more. Eli Starling is my athlete, my responsibility.
He’s younger. He’s got this wide-open way of looking at me, as though he actually sees me, and I can’t remember the last time anyone did.
I should shut this down before it gets complicated.
Before it turns into something I can’t explain away as a mistake. And it ruins my future or his.
But I can still feel the press of his mouth against mine, sweet and insistent. The way he smiled into it, like he was just as relieved as he was desperate. As if kissing me wasn’t something to regret, but something he’d wanted all along.
And that thought—dangerous, stupid, impossible—lodges itself in my chest, pulsing with every step I take back toward the dorms.
Yeah. I’m screwed.
By the time we reach the inside of our dorm building, my boots are soaked through and my hands ache from the cold, but none of it compares to the mess in my chest.
He stops first, turning toward me with that damn bag of pie swinging at his side. His cheeks are flushed from the wind, his hair damp with melting snow, and when his eyes catch mine, I forget how to breathe.
“So…” he says, drawing the word out, his grin tugging crooked. “Thanks for dinner. And, uh…” He licks his lips, and it’s unfair how my pulse kicks, trying to break out of my body. “For the kiss. I guess.”
I let out a rough breath. “Yeah,” I say, because anything more would betray too much. Like how I can still taste him on my tongue.
Silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable—just weighted. Charged. He shifts his pie bag from one hand to the other, unsure of what to do with himself, and I almost reach out.
Instead, I clear my throat. “Get your pie back to your dorm before it gets warm, Starling.” My voice comes out lower than I meant, and his grin widens as if he caught something in it.
“Yeah, Calder.” He tips his chin, eyes dancing. “See you around.”
He backs toward his hallway, still watching me, and only turns when he reaches the entrance for it. I stand there a beat longer than I should, snow melting in my hair, pulse refusing to settle.
Then I head to my side of the building, every step echoing the same truth I don’t want to admit.
This isn’t just attraction. It’s not just a kiss.
I like him.
And that’s exactly what’s going to get me in trouble.
By the time I reach my room, I’m almost thawed out, while simultaneously strung out.
The door shuts behind me with a dull click, muting the echo of my boots on tile and the muffled hum of the storm outside.
But it doesn’t mute the replay looping in my head of Eli’s mouth on mine, warm and insistent, that little curve of a smile he couldn’t hide even as I kissed him.
I drop the coffee cup and my beanie on the desk, strip off my coat, but it doesn’t help. My chest is still tight, buzzing with something I shouldn’t let myself feel. One kiss, and I already want more.
I’m pacing when it happens—everything goes black. The heater cuts off with a groan, my desk lamp flickers out, and the dorm falls into heavy silence broken only by the wind pressing against the windows.
“Shit.” I fumble for my phone, the glow of the screen harsh in the sudden dark. Power’s out. Campus-wide outage, probably. I wait, telling myself it’ll kick back on in a minute.
It doesn’t.
By the half-hour mark, the air has thinned with cold, creeping in around the window frame. I rub my hands together, but it’s not enough to chase away the oncoming chill.
And of course, my mind goes straight to him. Eli’s on the other side of the building, just a couple of hallways away, probably bundled in blankets, maybe holding that damn pie as if it’s a space heater. The thought makes my mouth twitch.
I shouldn’t. It’s too soon. But my thumb’s already swiping to his contact, hovering over the keyboard. The excuse forms easily, clean and casual.
Me: Do you have enough blankets to keep warm?
I hit send before I can second-guess it, heart thumping too fast for such a simple text.
The three dots appear almost instantly, as though he had his phone in hand too. My breath stalls, watching them blink.
Eli: Miss me already? ??
I drag a hand down my face, groaning into the dark. Of course, he’d say that. Of course, he’d make it sound as if I couldn’t go thirty minutes without him.
The worst part is he’s not wrong.
My thumbs hover uselessly. I could deflect, keep it casual, but the grin tugging at my mouth is impossible to smother. He’s sitting there in the same freezing building, poking at me through a tiny glowing screen, and somehow it feels more intimate than that kiss under the snow.
I type fast before I can overthink it:
Me: Just making sure you didn’t freeze to death, Starling.
The second it sends, I regret it. Too clipped. But before I can throw my phone across the room, his reply comes in.
Eli: Aww, worried about me? That kiss really did a number on you.
My ears burn even though nobody can see me. I start to type something back—Shut up feels like the safest bet—but another message comes in.
Eli: We could hang out, you know. Conserve body heat. Maybe watch a movie.
My laptop is charged, and I can hook it up to my hotspot.
I have Christmas movies on an external hard drive.
I blink at the screen, pulse spiking. He’s joking. He has to be joking. But the image lodges in my brain anyway; Eli sprawled across his bed, blanket draped over us, that grin daring me to do something about it.
I stare at his text way too long, thumb hovering over the keyboard as if it’s life or death. Hang out. Conserve body heat. Watch a movie. It’s harmless. It’s a snowstorm. And yet my stomach knots like I’m about to cross some invisible line.
Me: Not sure that’s a great idea.
I hit send before I can stop myself, then instantly hate how stiff it sounds. My screen lights up again seconds later.
Eli: Fine, I’ll eat my pie without you. Or we could watch a movie, and I’ll share…
I huff out a laugh despite myself, dragging a hand down my face. He makes everything sound so damn easy.
Me: Fine. What’s your room number?
There’s a long beat where I wonder if I imagined the whole thing, and then it buzzes back.
Eli: 314. Don’t keep me waiting, Calder.
I sit there for a moment, staring at the number, fighting the smile tugging at my mouth. Then I shove my boots back on and try not to think too hard about the fact that I’m really doing this.
The hallways are darker than usual, the faint glow from the emergency lights painting everything in dull yellow.
My boots scuff against the tile as I count down the doors until I reach 314.
My pulse is ridiculous for something as simple as knocking, but my knuckles still hesitate a second before I rapped against the wood.
The door swings open almost immediately, and I’m hit with the faint smell of peppermint and cinnamon, and a sight that nearly knocks me flat.
It’s like I just stepped into Santa’s workshop.
Garlands are strung across the walls, twinkle lights that must be battery powered shine from where they wrap the bed frame and shelves, and stockings dangle from the dresser.
There’s even a sad little fake tree in the corner with ornaments crowding every branch.
Without full power, the place should feel gloomy, but somehow the decorations make it glow, and the twinkling lights make it feel very cheery.
Eli stands there, grinning at me with one hand braced on the doorframe, knowing exactly what kind of Christmas hell I just walked into.
“Welcome to the North Pole,” he says, a little too smug. “Mind the reindeer, they’re off-duty tonight.”
I blink at him, then at the explosion of tinsel behind him. My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
He just beams wider, stepping back to let me in.
I step inside, shaking my head as my boots squeak against the tile. “How the hell did your roommate let you get away with this?”
Eli kicks the door shut behind me, his grin turning sheepish. “He didn’t. Because he never showed up this year.” He gestures toward the room as if it’s obvious. “So…it’s just me. And all of the Christmas I can handle.”
I snort, glancing at the tree weighed down with ornaments and the paper snowflakes taped to the window. “All of Christmas? Looks like you mugged a Hobby Lobby.”
He smirks, unbothered. “Don’t pretend you’re not impressed.”
I huff, trying to keep the corner of my mouth from twitching. “Impressed isn’t the word I’d use.”
But the truth is, it feels…weirdly him. Warm, over-the-top, impossible not to look at. And if I’m honest, the empty bed on the other side of the room makes something in my chest ache, knowing he’s been here alone, decorating all this for himself.
I shake the thought off before it can dig in too deep, dropping onto the edge of his bed like I belong there. “So what, you just sit in here every night sipping cocoa and communing with your snowman army?” I nod to the shelf of three different sized snowmen over his dresser.
Eli drops down across from me, cross-legged on his bed, grinning as if I handed him a compliment instead of an insult. “Sometimes cocoa, sometimes eggnog. Depends on the vibe.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, dragging a hand over my face, but it’s useless. My mouth betrays me, pulling into a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” he says, leaning back on his hands, “you’re here.”
He reaches for the pie container on his dresser next to him. “I promised to share, but I only have one fork, so we are really sharing.”
I shake my head and wave him off. “It’s all yours.”
“Sharing a fork isn’t a big deal. Our tongues literally just danced…so…”
My face heats with the reminder of our kiss, and I clear my throat, reaching for the safest topic I’ve got at the moment. “You said something about conserving body heat and a movie?”
Eli props a couple pillows against the wall and climbs back, patting the space beside him as if it’s already decided. “C’mon, Calder. Premium seating. And really, you can have a bite of my pie. The sugar will give you the energy to make body heat. I’m sure there is science behind it.”
“That’s not how it works.”
I roll my eyes but then kick off my shoes and scoot across his bed anyway, until I’m shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He drags a blanket over both of us, warm fleece settling across my lap, and the heat of him seeps into my side instantly. Too close. Not close enough.
Taking a bite of his pie, he sets the container on his dresser, and then he pulls his laptop over, fingers flying as he cues up some movie.
The blue glow paints his grin soft. I can feel every point where we’re touching—the bump of his knee, the press of his arm—and something in me gives in before I can think better of it.
I slide my arm around the back of him, casual, pretending it’s just about comfort. Like I don’t mean it. But when I tug him closer, he doesn’t protest. He just sinks in, shoulder under my arm, head tilted toward me as the movie loads.
Friends. Just two friends staying warm during a blackout. That’s what I tell myself, even as my pulse thunders in my ears, and the excuse feels paper thin.
The movie flickers to life, filling the room with soft light, and Eli shifts just a little closer, settling closer. Like he’s done this a hundred times before, and he belongs tucked into my side.
“You always watch Christmas movies in a blackout?” I murmur, my voice low, mostly so I don’t give away how loud my heart’s hammering.
He tilts his head up at me, eyes catching the glow of the screen. “Tradition. Power goes out, you put on It’s a Wonderful Life, or you risk bad luck.”
I huff a laugh. “That a real superstition or one of your sugar-high inventions?”
He grins, unbothered. “Does it matter? You’re sitting here, aren’t you?”
My mouth twitches, and I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “Guess I am.”
We fall quiet after that, letting the dialogue from the movie fill the space, but the silence between us isn’t empty.
It’s warm. Comfortable. Dangerous. Every so often, he shifts, his shoulder brushing my chest, his knee bumping against my leg under the blanket.
None of it’s accidental. At least, it doesn’t feel accidental.
And I’m not sure I want it to be.