Chapter 15 Eli
FIFTEEN
ELI
The room’s still hushed except for the sound of our breathing, ragged and uneven. My body feels heavy, boneless, like I’ve been melted down to warmth and skin. Max hasn’t moved much either, one arm still draped across me as if he doesn’t trust me not to disappear.
The power’s still out, the faint winter light creeping pale and gray through the window.
No hot shower. No easy escape into running water.
Instead, Max reaches for the box of tissues on my nightstand—practical, grumpy as ever—and helps wipe away the mess cooling on my stomach and thighs.
He does the same for himself with a quiet sigh, then tosses the crumpled tissues into the trash.
I was serious before; no guy has helped clean me up before. He might be grumpy, but God, he’s perfect.
It’s awkward in theory; two guys half-dressed, cleaning up from a hookup, but somehow it isn’t. Somehow it feels…tender. Intimate in a way I wasn’t expecting.
I curl closer once he’s settled again, tucking myself against his chest as though I belong there. His skin is warm, his heartbeat steady, and even though he smells like sex and sweat and the faintest trace of my peppermint candle, I can’t stop inhaling him.
“This is nice,” I murmur, half into his shoulder.
He hums low, noncommittal, but his hand finds the back of my head, fingers sifting through my hair in lazy strokes. It makes me smile. Makes me feel as if maybe he’s letting his guard down for once.
I know better than to think this is forever. Max isn’t built for forever…not with me. I saw it in his eyes at the coffee shop earlier, the way he bristled when I joked about boyfriends. He’ll never say it outright, but I know. This—whatever this is—has an expiration date.
But lying here in his arms, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath my cheek, I decide I don’t care. Not right now. Not while the world outside is buried under snow and we’ve got this bubble of warmth carved out between us.
So I do what I do best—I live in the present. I soak up the weight of his arm around me, the scratch of stubble against my temple, the quiet way he breathes as if he’s not as unaffected as he wants me to believe.
If this is all the time I get, I’m going to enjoy every damn second of it.
Max doesn’t say anything, just lies there with his hand in my hair, and I decide silence isn’t going to cut it. Not when I’ve got him this close. Not when I can feel the solid heat of his chest against me and know he isn’t pushing me away.
So I tilt my head just enough to peek up at him. “You know, you’re not bad at cuddling, Calder.”
His brow furrows. “That supposed to be a compliment?”
“Yes,” I say, grinning. “Though your Yelp reviews could use work. Three stars at best. Points docked for grumpy commentary.”
He huffs through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh I think I’ll get, and my heart does a stupid little flip. God, I love poking at him until he cracks. And I love his laughter even more.
“You trying to annoy me into smiling?” he mutters.
“Is it working?”
He doesn’t answer, but the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth tells me enough. Victory.
I press closer, my voice dropping to something softer. “You look good when you smile, you know. Should try it more often.”
That earns me a quiet, “Shut up,” but it’s gentle, almost…fond.
I let the moment linger before my brain starts whirring again. Because cuddling’s great, yeah, but I’m not done. Not even close. If Max Calder’s going to be stuck in my Christmas wonderland during this blackout, then he’s going to experience it properly.
“I just had an idea.”
He groans. “That’s never good.”
“No, hear me out,” I say, pushing up on an elbow to grin down at him. “You, me, and the best Christmas movie of all time. Elf.”
His expression is priceless—flat, unimpressed, already regretting every life choice that led him here. “You’re kidding.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“Yes. Or insane.”
I tap his chest. “Lucky for you, I came prepared. My dad’s a tech nut—he makes sure I’ve got battery packs that could survive an apocalypse. Which means,” I draw out the words, enjoying his look of dread, “I can plug my laptop in and introduce you to Buddy the Elf, savior of Christmas.”
“Eli—”
“Nope. No arguing. You’ve already been indoctrinated into hot peppermint lattes and snowball fights. Next step is Will Ferrell in tights.”
I beam at him, triumphant, because he can glower all he wants—I’m going to make him love Christmas if it kills me.
Max looks down at me as though I just suggested he drink eggnog straight from the carton, which, let’s be honest, is pretty damn tasty. “You cannot be serious.”
“Oh, I’m absolutely serious.” I snuggle closer beneath the blanket, chin tipped up so I can grin at him properly. “Elf is a holiday masterpiece. A required seasonal experience.”
He exhales hard through his nose, tilting his head back against the wall. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Compliment accepted.” I jab him lightly in the ribs with my elbow. “One more movie, Calder. We didn’t exactly finish the last one, did we?”
That earns me a glare sharp enough to cut, but I catch the flicker of pink at his ears. Progress.
“You really think you can make me like Christmas by forcing me to watch movies and listen to you sing songs?”
“Completely.” I beam up at him, shameless. “By the end of winter, you’ll be whistling Christmas carols in your sleep. And I don’t see you fighting me on this.”
Max groans, dragging a hand down his face, but his arm never leaves my shoulders. “You’re relentless, you know that? How many of these Christmas movies do you have saved on your laptop?”
“Mmhm.” I wiggle even closer, enjoying the warmth of him. “A few, but like I said before, it’s an external hard drive my dad loaded for me. And you secretly love it.”
“Debatable.”
Still, when I reach over to snag my laptop off the nightstand and plug it into the battery pack, he doesn’t stop me. Just shakes his head as if he can’t believe he’s letting me rope him into this.
I flip the screen open and queue up Elf, practically glowing as the opening credits roll. “Trust me. You’ll thank me later.”
He mutters something low, but his arm pulls me tighter against his chest. And maybe I’m imagining it, but when Buddy the Elf pops onto the screen, I swear Max’s scowl softens, barely a fraction, but enough to make my chest ache in the best way.
I settle in under the blanket with my shoulder tucked snug under his arm and against his chest, and within seconds, I’m grinning like an idiot. I’ve seen Elf a hundred times, but it never stops being hilarious. The ridiculousness, the sheer joy, it just gets me every single time.
I laugh out loud when Buddy pours syrup on his spaghetti, elbowing Max lightly like, See, this is peak cinema. He huffs, but it’s not annoyed—more akin to humoring me, which honestly makes it better.
The movie barrels on, all neon cheer and chaotic joy, and I’m so wrapped up in quoting my favorite lines under my breath that I almost miss it. That prickly awareness crawling over my skin.
When I glance back at him, Max isn’t watching the screen at all. He’s watching me.
Eyes dark, steady, locked on me like I’m the movie. Like I’m the thing he can’t look away from.
My laugh falters, sticking in my throat, and for a second, the whole room feels suspended in the quiet hum of battery-powered Christmas lights and Buddy the Elf yelling in the background.
I swallow. “You’re…not even watching,” I whisper the accusation, lips tugging into a crooked smile.
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t deny it. Just tilts his head the tiniest bit, as if he’s memorizing the way I’m looking back at him. His gaze doesn’t waver, but his mouth twists like I just accused him of something he’ll never admit to.
“Movie’s overrated,” he mutters.
I huff a laugh, even though my chest feels too tight. “Blasphemy. Elf is a masterpiece.”
“Mm,” he grunts, like he’s disagreeing but not enough to fight me on it. His eyes still don’t leave mine.
The movie plays on, bright and ridiculous, but I can barely focus on it now. Not when he’s just made staring at me feel more intense than any scene on the screen.
My laugh dies in my throat, and suddenly I can’t think of a single clever thing to say.
Heat creeps up my neck, flooding my cheeks, and I duck my head as if that might hide it. It doesn’t. His gaze follows, steady and unyielding.
For once, I’m speechless. The silence stretches, heavy and electric, and all I can do is clutch the blanket tighter and let myself blush even harder under the weight of Max looking at me like that.
I might combust from the heat in my face. I open my mouth, no clue what I’m even planning to say, when he shifts beside me.
His hand comes up, rough fingers brushing along my jaw, and then he tilts my chin up and back towards him. My breath hitches. And then he kisses me. Soft and slow.
When he pulls back, just far enough that his words ghost against my lips, his voice is low and gruff but unmistakably sincere.
“You’re beautiful, Eli. The way you shine so damn bright…”
My heart stumbles hard in my chest because I don’t think he’s talking about looks. He means me, the me inside. Max really sees me.
And for a second, I can’t breathe.
The words sink straight into me. Beautiful.
God. I know I shouldn’t, but it feels as though my ribcage can’t hold the way my heart swells. If he keeps looking at me in that way, if he keeps saying things like that, I’m going to fall so hard it’ll shatter when this whole thing ends.
And he is leaving. This is temporary. I told myself I was fine with that. I am fine with that. I’ll take every scrap of him I can get while I can. But right now, with his lips brushing mine and his blue eyes steady on me, I already know, walking away from Max Calder is going to hurt like hell.
So I do what I always do. I tuck the ache behind a grin, tilt my head to tease him, and let my voice come out light.
“Careful, Calder. Say stuff like that and people might start thinking you’re a romantic under all that scowl. And by people, I mean me.”
I tap his chest with two fingers, aiming for playful. He huffs out something between a sigh and a laugh, and I cling to it like armor, even as my heart keeps tumbling further into love with him. Shit. I did not just think that. I am not falling in love with him.
Except, I might be able to fool him, and lie to everyone else, but I know what this feeling is inside my chest. I know it, and it terrifies me.
Before the ache can swell too big, I kiss him.
Quick at first, just pressing my mouth to his as if it’s the most natural escape route.
Then slower, deeper, until I’m half-clinging to him and twisted in his arms to face him, trying to make the pounding in my ribs quiet down, trying to drown out the truth blooming sharp and bright inside me.
His hand slides up my back, steady and warm, and instead of easing the ache, it only makes it worse—in the best, most dangerous way.
The kiss softens without either of us meaning it to. My lips move lazily against his, unhurried, as if we’ve got forever instead of just right now. He hums into me, low and rough, and the sound vibrates through my chest, making me melt deeper into his side.
I pull back just enough to breathe him in, our foreheads touching. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them, but there’s a softness there too, one he doesn’t let anyone else see. I swallow against the lump in my throat, forcing a grin I don’t really feel.
“Careful,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over his jaw. “Keep kissing me like that and I might get the wrong idea.”
But even as I joke, I know the truth.
I already have.