Chapter 24
COVEY
It feels like we’re pulling off some great caper. I don’t know how, but Aidan convinced our families to let us spend Christmas Eve alone.
Or, at least the first part of the day. I have to be at the theater in the early afternoon to get ready for the matinee.
Then stick around for the evening show. When it meant avoiding spending time with my family, a part of me was relieved that I had an excuse not to be anywhere near their house.
Sorry, I have to work is a good excuse that invites zero argument.
Now that it’s just the two of us, alone in his house, I desperately wish I could stay home, have a traditional Christmas Eve with Aidan, sitting around the tree and swapping stories. Or watching a movie until the early hours of the morning.
As it is, I’ll crawl into bed a little after midnight, sore and tired. Not exactly the way to ring in the holidays. At least there’s only another week, then I’ll finally get a bit of a break.
“You want some orange juice?” Aidan holds up the bottle in his hand. He’s already made himself a mimosa, which I’m eyeing with envy. I could use a little liquid courage for what I’m hoping to pull off today.
“Sure, thanks.”
I’m taking Leo’s advice and going all-in, asking Aidan if he’s interested in being my real boyfriend. No more lying or doing things for show. An all-in version where the two of us are together. No more qualifiers like fake or pretend.
I even took his advice on the wooing thing.
Or, the best approximation of it that I can come up with.
I found the perfect gift on eBay, a mint-condition blue Power Rangers figurine.
It looks like the one he had on his backpack the first day of kindergarten.
I’m pretty sure he had one of these figures as well.
A little cheesy? Maybe, but I’m hoping I can use it to come up with some words about how he’s always meant more than a friend to me.
That’s if I don’t lose my nerve before the end of our morning together. I have another gift for him—a dorky mug that says, Property of Mr. Matthews and a box of hot chocolate mix. Generic and safe.
I bought that one weeks ago. It’s currently sitting under Aidan’s tree, in a candy cane-striped gift bag. The real gift is safely in my bag. Maybe I should’ve stuck it under the tree. At least then it would keep me from chickening out.
“So I was thinking, since we have the morning to ourselves, we could watch a movie and relax on the sofa for a bit, then open presents right before you have to take off.”
“Sounds good.” I stretch out my legs onto his ottoman, reminding myself to move every so often so I don’t get too stiff. I’ve already done away with the worst of it, going through my morning yoga routine.
“I pulled up a few options, but you can pick. I’ll watch anything.”
My wooing plans do not include choosing the movie.
Instead, I flip on the TV and see what he has available.
Elf is the first one on the screen, and I smile at the memory of seeing it in the theater together, both a little too young to catch a good portion of the jokes, but laughing our way through it anyway.
“Elf sounds good,” I call to him, hitting play at the same time and getting it ready to go.
When he comes in, Aidan’s carrying a tray full of goodies. There’s a massive pile of pastries, combined with a couple of breakfast sandwiches and other items. “Are we expecting more people?” I ask, eyeing the extravagant breakfast.
“No, I wanted to make sure we have enough.” His face turns bright red, and I decide not to give him a hard time about it. We can always save the rest of it and take it with us to my parents’ house for Christmas.
“It all looks fantastic. Come, sit.” I pat the spot right next to me, hoping he takes the hint.
My plan involves a lot of casual touching, hoping to lighten things up and set the stage for what I want to say.
Friends-with-benefits time has been short and sweet, but I’m still unsure where we stand outside those encounters.
Unclear boundaries are never a good thing. Right?
Aidan sits down next to me, leaving enough space between us for another person. Maybe two, if they’re small. Not off to a great start.
Either way, it’s Christmas Eve and we’re together. That’s enough for the moment. “You sure you’re okay with this choice?”
“Of course. It’s Elf.” I click play and get things going.
For a long while, neither of us moves, but by some sort of silent agreement, we eventually dig into the food.
Just in time, too, because I need something to do with my hands.
We should’ve started with presents; the waiting is killing me.
Too much time for something to go wrong or for me to rethink my grand plan.
AIDAN
“Present time?”
“Of course.” Covey’s eyes light up when he looks at my Christmas tree.
It’s not the kind of thing that would show up in a magazine, sparsely decorated with little ornaments hung in random places.
If anything, it looks like the leftovers from a Christmas store.
But it’s mine, a mess of hand-me-downs from my mom, gifts from students, and a few things I’ve picked up on my travels over the years. It’s eclectic—at best—but it’s mine.
Underneath are two presents, both in gift bags with an obscene amount of tissue paper coming out of the tops. Apparently, neither one of us is patient enough to deal with wrapping paper.
“Can I go first?” I ask. I’ve been excited about the gift I got Covey for a month. I bought it back when we first started hanging out, waiting for the perfect opportunity to give it to him. The moment never materialized, so I wrapped it for Christmas.
I want Covey to know how much I care about him; that this friendship is what’s most important to me.
As we face the last week of our fake relationship, I want to ensure that what we have doesn’t disappear.
Covey’s about to break my heart, but the only way I’m going to be able to put it back together is with my best friend.
And yes, I’m aware that having Covey as both the problem and the solution is complicated. And confusing.
“It’s not big. Just a small thing I thought you’d like.” As I hand him the bag, I’m suddenly nervous about my choice. It’s not fancy or anything. It’s meant to remind him of both his past and future here in Burlington. With me.
“I’m sure I’ll love it.” He pulls the glittery tissue paper out and digs into the bottom of the bag. I can see the exact moment his hand finds the prize. He pulls it out and stares at it for a minute.
“A snow globe?” He shakes it and watches as the snow falls over a scene of downtown Burlington.
“I, um, thought you’d like it.” There’s a little sign inside it that says, Home Sweet Burlington. “I’m delighted that you somehow ended up back here, with us. I know you always wanted to leave, but we missed you.”
“We?” he asks.
“Well, yeah. Everyone missed you, in case that isn’t obvious. Your family. My family.” Me. I missed him more than anyone and even more than I knew. “Burlington has always been your home, and I’m so happy that you’re back and that we’re friends again.”
His face drops for a second before he plasters on a smile.
It’s a slight movement, one I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t looking right at him, but it stops me in my tracks.
It’s a stupid gift. Too small and touristy.
The kind of generic thing that he’d get from a Secret Santa, not someone who’s known him for nearly two decades.
I wanted him to have a reminder that this is his home. That he belongs here, with me. I’m pretty sure I’ve somehow done the complete opposite.
“I love it. Thank you.” As he stands, he places it gently on the coffee table before grabbing the other present from under the tree.
“Here.” He thrusts the gift at me. It’s heavier than I expected, and I nearly let it fall to the floor.
When I reach inside, I find an adorable mug with my name on it. “It’s for your hot chocolate.”
Covey’s tone is flat, and I’m not entirely convinced that he’s even happy to give it to me.
“This is perfect, thank you.” The message on it about being the best teacher is one that I have on at least six mugs in my kitchen and two in my classroom. Still, it’s a kind gesture. One can never have too many mugs, though my cabinet might beg to differ on that one.
“There’s, uh, something else.” He tugs at the hem of his sweatshirt.
“Oh?” Honestly, the mug is plenty for me. I don’t go all-in for presents this time of year. Partly because I inevitably end up with a pile of junk from my students. It’s all thoughtful and wonderful, but I quickly learned there’s a limit to the number of craft projects I can store in my small home.
“Give me a second.” Covey walks over to his bag by the front door and digs around for a minute. He glances back several times, almost as if he’s trying to decide whether he should give me the gift. Eventually, he sighs and pulls a small box from the bag.
Even before he’s back, I recognize the packaging from a local chocolate company. “I thought you could probably use some more hot chocolate. Good stuff, not that crap you buy at the grocery store.”
“All chocolate is good chocolate,” I say in reply.
Of course, he’s right. This is the real deal and so much better than the powder that comes in the little packets.
Slightly less convenient to make in the five-minute breaks I get at work, but worth the extra effort in the evening when I’m winding down.
And Covey went all out on this one. The mug might be generic, but I can tell he picked these out specially for me.
All the flavors in the mixed pack are hand-selected.
Maple, dark chocolate, and caramel. None of the weird ones, like orange or raspberry.
Fruit does not belong in chocolate.
“This is wonderful. Thank you.” I roll the box over in my hands a few times.
“Would you like some? I could make it now.” We’ve only got a little time left in our private celebration before he has to get ready for The Nutcracker, and I can already feel our little bubble fading away. “Or I could make you some tea.”
“No thanks. I… I think I should get going. My body’s stiff, so I want to spend some extra time stretching. Maybe get in another round of yoga.” He smiles, but it lacks his usual enthusiasm.
“You sure?” I thought I got him until noon.
It’s not like there were strict plans. Movie, presents, and treats.
I spent the whole week looking forward to it, thinking about what it would be like to have that time together.
To hold on for a few minutes to what it’s like right now, knowing the whole thing could change in another week.
“Yeah, sorry. But thanks so much for this. It’s exactly what I needed.”
“Me, too.” There’s so much more I want to say, but no way to express what I’m feeling right now. The way I want to wrap him up in my arms, hold on, and never let go.
I already decided. We go back to being friends with no benefits.
It’s best for my heart. If I’m lucky, I’ll have a few years to finish getting over Covey before he tries to introduce me to his real boyfriend.
Even thinking about it has me ready to throw myself on the ground and beg him to stay, to give me this one last week.
But Covey’s coat is already on, and then, before I can find the words, he’s giving me a quick hug, jogging out to his car, and disappearing down the street.