Whispers of December: A holiday novella

by Maisie Myers

To all my ho ho hoes who just wanna read about a girl getting railed to put you in the holiday spirit. I got you. Merry fucking Christmas.

Heartbreak doesn't require something picturesque. It needs rain to cover the tears, darkness to hide how alone I am, and ice cream to soothe the burn of betrayal. Oh, and hell of a lot of wine.

His register is low and smoky. It's the type of voice that could narrate nature documentaries or audio-porn for women. Not that I notice its raw sex appeal. Not even a little bit.

"You didn't invite me in." Huh. I never knew serial killers had such manners. "Are you a vampire?" He blinks. "Excuse me?" "Can't come in until they're invited, but once they are, they'll never leave." "I truly can't work out if that's a serious question."

"You want my advice, Paxton?" she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Date a girl who reads smut. It'll change your damn life."

"No one should ever make you feel like what you're doing isn't important or worthy. They shouldn't break you down, they should build you up. Share in your excitement, even if they don't fully understand it. They don't need to understand to be proud. And baby," I skim my fingers down her face, "I am so fucking proud of you."

"I don't want you to say yes because I'm the perfect man for you. I want you to say yes because I'm the only man for you. I want to spend the rest of my life getting under your skin and clawing my way into your soul, just like you've done to me. I want to be the one who makes you question everything and show you that the answer is always us. You and me. I want you at your sickest, and I want you at your best. I want to be the one who helps you sleep at night, and the one who keeps you awake. I want to love you, and fuck you, and celebrate you every day. So, I guess what I'm trying to say, is that the story of us is already the best one I've ever known, but I'm ready to write our happy ending with you now, if you'll let me."

He's taught me that happily ever afters don't only belong in the pages of the books I read. That I can have one of my own. That I deserve one. That I'm worthy of one. He's taught me to celebrate myself, how to look in the mirror and be proud of who I see. But most of all, he's taught me that love, true love, isn't compromising. He doesn't make me dim my light so that he can shine brighter.