Chapter Seventeen
“It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Ivy
“You okay over there?” Jack asked as we crossed over into Aspen Lake’s city limits. “You’ve been quiet.”
I stared out the passenger window. The falling snow danced in the light from the streetlamps.
The sight always made me feel like I was living in a magical snow globe.
But right now I felt anything but magical.
My period had come early, bringing with it cramps and bloating, and then there was all the stress brought on by fake dating my famous best friend and watching my life play out online like a slow-burning car wreck.
Not to mention being spied on by paparazzi.
It kind of put a damper on the holidays.
Even tonight at the shelter, we had been on display.
Smiling for cameras as we handed out gifts and worked the soup line in our elf hats and sweaters.
I couldn’t wait to see what the world had to say about that.
Some would no doubt think we’d scripted out a holiday special and were only doing it for show.
Others were probably still worried that Jack was being held against his will by my holiday-crazed family.
Sure, some people would find it charming and praise Jack for giving back.
They would say we looked festive and so cute together.
It was going to give the regular girls out there way too much hope.
But the critics would unfortunately be the loudest voices in my head, especially those questioning why Mr. Holiday was with me and not a leggy lingerie model—or Sienna.
Ugh. I tensed just thinking of her and what she was going to do next. No way had she given up yet.
“I’m fine,” I lied, resting my head on the cool glass.
Jack reached across the console, his fingers finding mine, easily and naturally, like this was normal for us. It was anything but, yet I took the comfort, feeling guilty about how much I liked it—and the kissing.
Oh, the kissing. There’d been plenty of it today in front of my family and at the shelter. Nothing wild—just sweet little pecks here and there.
Okay, except for the moment under the mistletoe Mom had strategically hung in the kitchen entryway. Jack couldn’t resist the spotlight. And my mom had practically squealed every time we leaned into the act. But that kiss?
It wasn’t cute.
There was nothing adorable about the way Jack’s tongue had skimmed my lips, or the way he’d then proceeded to thoroughly, unapologetically devour my mouth, all while dipping me like I was his leading lady.
It was freaking hot.
And shamelessly, I couldn’t wait to do it again. To feel the heat of his mouth on mine. I felt like such a cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater. I was full-blown cheating on our friendship now.
We had crossed almost every line I’d promised myself we wouldn’t.
After this was all said and done and we’d “broken up,” I was going to have to go through some detox program where they send regular girls who start fantasizing about their famous best friends .
. . and who live out a cozy holiday lie that’s too big to walk back from.
Not to say Jack was my fantasy.
It was much worse.
His fake-boyfriend persona—or maybe this was who he really was outside of Mr. Holiday, it was getting hard to tell—was what I wanted in real life. The kind of man who snuggled with me at night, cheered me on, and protected me from snowballs.
“You’re not fine. What’s wrong?” Jack cut in, slicing through the torrid thoughts I was having about him.
I rolled my head toward him, hoping he didn’t see how badly I wanted him to pull over so we could time how quickly we could fog up the windows.
But some creeper photographers would probably catch us.
I could only imagine those headlines: Holiday Heartthrob and Humanitarian and Local Nobody Caught in Steamy Elf-on-Elf Scandal.
That thought actually made me giggle.
Jack glanced my way, brow lifted, perplexed by my shifting emotions.
I wish I could blame my hormones.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked.
No way was I explaining that imaginary headline. “Jack, don’t you think this is all getting ridiculous?”
He let go of my hand, gripped the steering wheel, and stretched his neck from side to side. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that someone at the shelter asked me if I was your personal elf and if you were naughty or nice?”
Jack chuckled before throwing me an all too pleased with himself grin. “I wouldn’t mind a personal elf. But the question is, do you think I’m naughty or nice?”
“Are we grading on a curve?” I teased.
“Give it to me straight.” He waggled his brows.
For a moment, I took comfort in how easily we fell into our playful friend routine. “Seeing as we’re both big fat liars, I’m going to have to go with naughty.”
Jack’s grin vanished, and his face fell slack.
Shocked by his reaction, I said, “I’m sorry. Did you expect me to say nice?”
“No,” he sighed, flipping on his turn signal to the road leading home.
His disappointment confused me. I’d honestly thought he would take pride in being naughty.
“Jack, you know I think you’re a nice guy. Arrogant, but nice.”
His lips twitched, just shy of a real smile. “I’m sorry this has been so hard on you. It was never my intention.”
“I know.”
The rest of the drive passed in silence. It wasn’t tense, exactly—but something weird definitely hung in the air. I didn’t like it at all.
Jack pulled up to the house, shifted into park on the circle drive, and then hit me with, “I need to head back to town.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Just need to pick up something.”
My head tilted. “What?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be right back.”
Right. Because don’t worry always meant there was definitely something to worry about. What could Jack possibly need in town? Or why hadn’t he just taken me with him when we’d passed through it moments ago?
“I’ll just come with you,” I offered.
Jack shook his head. “Ivy, I can tell you don’t feel good. Go crawl into bed, and I’ll join you soon.”
That sent a little shiver through me. Jack joining me in bed.
Oh. My. Gosh. What was wrong with me? I knew he meant it platonically. Not once had Jack crossed the line while we slept together. Surely, he would have by now if he saw me as anything but his friend. This was Jack we were talking about.
Feeling that I probably needed some separation from my best friend, I nodded and fled the car without another word.
Space. I needed space.
The lightly falling snow did nothing to cool me down as I walked toward the front door. I could feel Jack staring at me, waiting for me to make it safely in the house. That was Jack. Always taking care of me. Always looking out for me.
Best friend ever.
Waves of guilt and desire coursed through me as I numbly walked through the house, telling myself I should just take the top bunk and let my family believe we weren’t “waiting” anymore as it squeaked the night away.
Not that any of them were really buying it anyway.
Maybe Paige, but even she had her doubts.
I was grateful everyone was busy getting ready for a family movie night and no one stopped me to chat. I might have confessed to all my crimes—the biggest one being that I had some more-than-friendly feelings for Jack. I just needed someone to talk to.
But then I would have had to admit I’d been lying to everyone this entire trip. I couldn’t do that. Not when everyone seemed so happy for Jack and me.
What had I done?
Like a zombie, I walked into my room and got ready for bed, putting on my flannel elf pajamas and doing all the bedtime skincare routine things.
The entire time I stared in the mirror, wondering what Jack was doing and telling myself I was absolutely sleeping on the top bunk.
This was nonnegotiable. No more cuddling with Jack. It was messing with my head and heart.
But apparently nonnegotiable meant we were totally going to do it.
Like an idiot, and someone who hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes telling herself she was absolutely not spending another night in Jack’s arms, I found myself crawling into the bottom bunk, curling up with Jack’s pillow and breathing in his musky scent.
I shut my eyes and pressed my face deeper into the pillow, telling myself I could stop this anytime I wanted to. I didn’t have a problem. Jack and I would be fine, just fine. Our friendship was safe.
Yes. Yes. Yes. I had to believe that.
I almost had myself convinced until Jack returned.
I rolled over to find him kneeling by the bed.
He looked as shaken as I felt.
“Is everything all right?” Did he know the thoughts I was having? Please no.
He immediately flipped a switch and grinned while holding up a paper bag from the specialty grocery store, The Market, in town.
“Period care package special delivery for Ivy.”
Oh, that was it. We weren’t safe. At. All.
I bit my lip. “How did you know my period started?”
Jack didn’t even blink. “Because I know you.”
Tears pricked my eyes, threatening to unleash and spill over.
Jack dropped the bag, making a loud thunk on the hardwood floor. His warm hand rested on my cheek.
“Ivy, what’s wrong?”
So much. But I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t tell him he might be right about men and women not being able to be friends, especially since he’d already said I was right and that they could be friends. That we could be friends. A friend was all he would ever see me as.
I swallowed down the truth. “I just don’t feel good. You know, period stuff,” I lied.
Again.
His thumb brushed my cheek. “Just give me a second and I’ll make it all better.”
Oh. I had a feeling he was going to make it much, much worse.