With Love, from Cold World

by Alicia Thompson

She updated her Goodreads page religiously, not to leave reviews but just to ensure that she had some kind of record of every book she’d ever read.

Coming for my brand

There, in the bottom row of the bleachers, was Daniel Alvarez. Dolores’ son, vice president of Cold World, and the target of all Lauren’s stupid, pointless infatuation feelings since the first day she’d set eyes on him.

“Maybe it’s the name?” Lauren asked tentatively. “Sometimes on the phone people think I’m saying Cold War.”

Me every time I say the title of this book and have to focus so I don’t say Cold War

The problem was that Cold World was so comfortable. He felt like it needed him. And weirder, he felt like he needed it.

Earlier, when he’d seen her put her hand in her mouth and suck, he’d felt a jolt of awareness so unexpected he’d almost fallen off the bleacher.

Asa didn’t know if Lauren already knew he was bisexual, from talking to Kiki, or if now she’d assume he was gay. And he didn’t know why it mattered, suddenly, but he’d dropped it into the conversation just to see how she would react.

Maybe it was because he’d basically just come out to her, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because she’d taken it in stride, volleying back one of her usual insults without missing a beat.

Messing with someone’s to-do list should be illegal. Like opening someone’s mail or stealing their identity. Or reading their diary—it felt as bad, to Lauren.

I totally invited you and I happen to know you spent yours watching that documentary about the McDonald’s Monopoly scam again.” “The again seems unnecessary,” Lauren muttered.

When he’d gotten hired there, he’d been barely out of high school, staying at a friend’s while he figured out where to go. Someone from the church had seen him making out with his then-boyfriend, and had sent pictures to his pastor father. He never did discover who it was, but it didn’t really matter—the damage was done. He was out.

Asa. Of course she would get Asa for Secret Santa.

It came out sounding a lot nastier than she’d meant it. This was why she hated spending time with Asa—he brought out the worst in her.

She didn’t deserve to be thrown into a role she’d never done before, forced to deal with entitled, belligerent dudebros.

He’d had his first girlfriend at thirteen, his first boyfriend at fifteen, and then there’d been the whirlwind of keeping any relationship secret from his hyper-religious parents, because the only thing worse than premarital sex was premarital queer sex.

He expected a denial, or maybe defensiveness. What he didn’t expect was for her to put her head in her hands and let out a low, guttural growl. A sound that shot immediately to his dick.

If that first holiday party had been bad, the second one was even more excruciating to remember. Lauren could only hope that, through some miracle, Asa had completely blocked it from his memory. He hadn’t seemed drunk, but he’d had at least one beer. She knew because she’d tasted it on his lips.

“Why did you do that?” “Do what?” John closed his book with an air of Fine, let’s get into it. “That was the most bullshit response to an honest question I’ve ever heard.”

Instead, she just shifted the pile of clothes to the other side of her bed and curled up next to it when it was time to go to sleep. It had actually felt oddly comforting, sleeping next to that pile. But the minute she had that thought, she had to strike it from her brain. It was too sad and pathetic to contemplate.

She didn’t like the idea of Asa dating other people. And Lauren found she really didn’t like the idea of these other people potentially treating him badly, stealing from him or being . . . whatever kind of asshole Kiki seemed to believe would love American Psycho.

“That was the only door not connected to the alarm system,” he said. “So congratulations, now we’re locked in.”

But maybe he was being unnecessarily harsh, given that if one of Lauren’s key attributes in a potential partner was close with family, that would eliminate Asa from the running. Not that he wanted to be in the running.

“I can’t stand . . . hmm. I can’t stand hot chocolate.” “Oh my god,” she said. “Me, either! I mean, it was very nice of you to bring me this, but yeah. It’s not my favorite.” “Whoops,” he said. “Slip of the tongue. I meant to say I can’t stand raw onions. But I guessed you didn’t like it, from the way your nose crinkled after that first sip.

She was still breathing harder than usual from all the energetic activity of their contest. Maybe that was why her lips were parted as she watched him twist the silver tinsel between his fingers, but all he could think was that he really, really wanted to kiss her.

“Lauren.” At this point it wasn’t even about playing a game, it was about helping her see the facts that should’ve been in neon lights right in front of her face. “You’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful.

She was attracted to Asa Williamson. She didn’t know exactly when it had happened—probably sometime around when she was sniffing him in the break room—but there it was. And for the first time, she thought maybe there was a chance that he reciprocated the feeling.

“I meant, did you want me to kiss you?” The emphasis on that one word said it all. He wasn’t asking if she wanted a generic mistletoe kiss at a holiday party. He was asking if she cared that the kiss came specifically from him.

Anything more than friendship even more unlikely. He was well-liked, easygoing, and confident. She was uptight and nervous and shy.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said. And then his fingers were at her jaw, tilting her face toward his, and his mouth was on hers.

“I’ve never really cared for tattoos,” she said, and could’ve kicked herself. Why would she say something like that now? “Oh yeah?” She swallowed, giving him a sheepish smile. “I seem to be kind of fixated on yours.” “ ’S all right,” he said. “I don’t mind being objectified.”

It did normally take her longer to reach orgasm, even when masturbating. And yet it had immediately felt different with Asa. Like she was more in the moment, like there was no room in her mind for overthinking when there was so much to feel.

And then tonight, when she’d said his name. He didn’t know if she realized it, but Lauren had never called him by his name to his face. Not once. Until she’d written that note on his fridge, he’d sometimes wondered if there was a chance she didn’t even know it. Hearing her say it, and like that, her voice all breathy and low . . . well, he couldn’t think about it too much, or he’d have to take care of himself in the bathroom after all.

She started to rise, but he pulled her back down, pressing a quick, hard kiss to her mouth.

Earlier, she’d felt a stirring from watching him wrap a present, for crying out loud, which she told herself was only because she found extreme competence a turn-on.

“You really think I’d put all my pornographic drawings in the same notebook as that little penguin guy? There’s gotta be a separation of church and state.” “So in this scenario, pornography is . . . church? Or state?” “Okay,” he said. “Bad example.”

“You’re going to ruin my shirt. Or choke on a button.” “Well, I see which one of those you prioritized.” He smiled, realizing he was also perfectly happy just doing this. Teasing Lauren, making her laugh, enjoying the rare privilege it felt like just to be able to touch her.

“I’m starting to know you, Lauren,” he said. “You’re very practical. But not always. Like, when I do this . . .” He flicked her nipple with his tongue, and she arched into him, her knee digging in his crotch.

“Wait,” he said, her earlier words clicking into place. “Is this back to the fact that you came and I didn’t? Because sex doesn’t have to work that way. Give-and-take doesn’t mean it has to be a transaction.”

“You’re going to have to make up your mind about me,” he said, his voice low. “Because you used to think I was some hedonistic slacker who only cared about a good time, and now suddenly I’m this altruistic philanthropist giving out orgasms like UNICEF went into sex work. I can’t be both of those guys, and if you actually paid attention you might see that I’m neither of them.”

All she knew was that somehow Asa had gone from someone she found vaguely irritating to the person she most looked forward to seeing. And then he went and did nice things like this, skating at a snail’s pace with her, and it got her all confused and messed up inside.

What do you want? That was what he’d asked her that night in his room, and she was starting to see how wrong her answer had been, when what she should’ve just said was you.

Hopefully she would see the gift as what it was, a gesture of how serious he was when it came to her.

But then Kiki was pointing down at him, waving her cup until pink punch sloshed over the side. “Asa, you idiot, you didn’t bring Lauren’s present in! It’s still in John’s trunk!” The next time he added anyone to a lease, he was adding provisions like Knock and actually wait for an invitation before entering a room and Keep your mouth shut about presents if the gift giver himself hasn’t mentioned them first.

The wind blew her hair across her mouth, and she tossed her head, giving a little laugh. He wondered what she would do if he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her. Soft, hard, every which way he could get his mouth on hers.

When they came back through the front door, Asa was taken aback by the sudden cheers and applause, like they were walking into a surprise party. It took him only a few seconds to realize that someone had hung mistletoe over the door, and once again he and Lauren had gotten caught under it.

Dolores must’ve forgotten that Lauren’s résumé had included her working knowledge of conversational Spanish, because she hadn’t held back when admonishing her son for stringing Lauren along.

There’s nothing wrong with being Lauren Fox. Even when their interactions had been limited to minor scuffles in the break room over the coffee machine, Asa had always made her feel seen in a way Daniel never could.

Then it was the instrumental part, and her eyes flew open, blinking against the sudden light and all the people staring at her. Including Asa, right there in the front row.

He’d been even more surprised by the things she’d said up there, in front of everyone. How Cold World was a family she felt left out of. How she would always fail the I’m not a robot tests. He hated that she felt that way, and he knew it was at least partly his fault, the way he’d always teased her.

“It’s better not to make plans. Things never go the way you want them to.”

“So what, it’s like fate or something?” “Not fate,” he said. “Just proof that sometimes it’s not the way you plan it, it’s how you make it happen.”