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“I’m sorry I freaked out on you in your room,” she said. “But I’m not that girl anymore. I can just hook up, have some fun. I even bought condoms.” Whoa. He didn’t know if he was more surprised that she’d taken that step, or that she’d been able to admit it without blushing. “Tomorrow, I will be very interested in hearing more about those,”
“Although maybe I should be grateful, when it comes to that particular example. I have a feeling I would’ve been a hardcore Potter fan, and then when the author showed her TERF colors it would’ve broken my heart.”
“I think that’s why I love Christmas so much,” he said. “My mom went all out—it was the only ‘magic’ really allowed in my house. My dad would’ve much rather been a ‘reason for the season’ kind of family, but my mom wouldn’t have it. Santa always left elaborate scavenger hunts for our big presents, we put out cookies and carrots for the reindeer every year, the works. I believed in Santa until I was twelve years old.” “Really?” He smiled. “I almost got into a fistfight with a kid in seventh grade over it. My older sister Becca sat me down and told me the truth for my own protection.”
“I always thought that people would reject me, if they knew. Like my own mother abandoned me, you know? I don’t know much about my dad—not a name or a job or anything real. So if people knew about that part of my past, they would see how easy it was to abandon me. And then they’d do it, too.”
“Lauren,” he said, “I don’t know where you got the idea that you need to be someone different for me, or at all. I happen to like you exactly as you are.”
She wouldn’t know how close he’d come to saying something else, a bigger word than like. But he realized it was true. Somewhere along the way, he’d fallen in love with Lauren Fox.
But it was impossible not to imagine each interaction making some deposit, no matter how minuscule, another entry on the ledger of all the reasons he loved her now.
“I promise you’re the most fun,” he said. “For a robot.” “Nah,” he said. “You’re clicking your way through all those traffic lights, baby.”
“That depends. Do you have cream and sugar, or do you keep your kitchen on some Soviet food rationing system?”
“I’m asking permission to touch you,” he said. “To show you how much I want you. Because, god, Lauren, I want you.”
“They’re small,” she blurted. “And I’ve always had this freckle right”—she pointed to the tan smudge near her left nipple—“here.” Asa pressed his thumb into the freckle. “You’re perfect. And that is officially my favorite freckle. I’m obsessed with it. It’s unseemly how much.”
“Lauren,” he said. “Jeans? You don’t own a nice pair of sweats for around the house?” “I had a houseguest,” she said primly. “I was dressing up.” Asa pressed a kiss to her calf, sliding his hands up her thighs and giving a squeeze. “What’s the situation on the cat pants,” he said. “If they’re stretch I’ll buy you three pair.”
“You taste so good,” he said, his breath warm against her. That would’ve been enough to do it for her—his words, that feathery touch, the sight of his blue hair between her pale thighs—but then he sucked her clit so hard she felt everything inside her shatter and break apart into a thousand pieces.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered. “Please.” She could feel the tremble in his breath as he kissed just behind her ear, could feel him hardening even more in her hand. “I like the way you talk, too,” he said, his voice a low rasp in her ear. “I want to be inside you so bad.”
“Asa . . .” she breathed, and then he was coming, too, his cheeks flushed as his body shuddered in release. He glanced down at where their bodies were still joined before looking back up at her. “Holy fuck,” he said.
If my parents kicked my little brother out of the house solely because they didn’t like that he kissed other boys, I’d take his side so fast it would make their heads spin. I think it’s fair for you to expect that kind of support from your sister.” “Well,” he said, giving her a crooked smile. “I do consider you the ultimate arbiter of what’s fair. So thank you.”
“So what are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked. Asa’s fingers were in the strands of her hair that had fallen over her shoulder, twisting the ends in a gesture she wasn’t even sure he was fully conscious of. “That depends,” he said. “Any chance you’d be up for going to a baby shower with me?”
“This is Lauren,” he said, resting his hand briefly on the small of her back. He didn’t quite know how to introduce her—coworker laughably inadequate at this point, friend closer but still not enough, girlfriend a hopeful zap to his heart but not officially sanctioned—so he left it at her name.
“I planned this shower so they wouldn’t come,” she said. He didn’t need to ask who she meant, but he was still confused. “You didn’t want . . .” “I wanted you to come,” she said. “And I knew you probably wouldn’t if they were here.
“What about you and Lauren? Is she . . .” “God, no. I mean, we’ve only just—and we used protection, so—” He felt the tips of his ears go red hot when he realized that she hadn’t been asking if Lauren was pregnant.
“Asa actually makes that soup himself now,” she said. “Oh, really?” His mother turned to him, a tentative smile on her face. “Well, he’s had to, hasn’t he?” Lauren said. There was a vibration in her voice he’d never heard before, subtle enough that anyone else in the room might miss it. He’d heard Lauren annoyed, irritated, maybe even as far as fed up. But this was something different—she was angry, too. “He had to learn to do all kinds of stuff for himself after you threw him out. Find a place to live. Get a job. Take care of himself. So yeah, he can make his own potato soup.”
“You seem like a nice enough girl. We’re certainly glad to see that Asa’s past his phase—” “It’s who he is,” Lauren said. “Not a phase. Just because he’s with me, it doesn’t make him any less bi.”
“The fact that he has bigoted parents bothers me,” Lauren said. “But that’s part of who he is, too.”
“You hope I’m happy?” he said to his mom before turning back to his dad. “I used to hope you were miserable. I used to hope it kept you up at night, thinking about me, about your son, who you threw away like I was a piece of garbage. But I know it doesn’t. And that makes me sad for you. It really does.”
She never got the rest of that sentence out. Asa came toward her so fast she had no time, could only let out a surprised squeak as he pressed her against the car door, his hands in her hair and his mouth hard and hungry on hers. Dimly, she was aware of the sound of her car keys hitting the pavement as her arms went around his neck. “It’s what I want,” he said against her mouth. “No doubt.”
In which case, we can go anywhere we want to, baby.” Lauren slid her hands up his chest, dragging her fingertips slowly over his nipples through his shirt, lingering long enough to hear his intake of breath. Then she plucked the clothespin that was still clipped to the collar of his shirt and fastened it below the others on her cardigan. “Caught you,” she said. He grinned. “I knew you would.”
“You look like you’re having a particularly good morning,” he said. “You’re practically glowing.” She wanted to hit him. It had been less than an hour ago that she’d had his fingers inside her, his mouth around her taut, slick nipple as he urged her to come in the shower.
“We’re all a little protective of him,” he said. “Of each other, really. And especially with her own breakup being so raw . . . Kiki wants to make sure Asa’s not going to get hurt.”
“I would’ve said . . . searching.” He tilted his head, giving her a small smile. “But when Asa knows what he wants, he commits to it.
“In case you ever want to try my method of to-do lists,” she said. “Or replay our game, not that I remember what all the numbers stood for.” Asa reached around her to pull open his desk drawer, sliding a few papers aside until he came out with a folded, yellow lined sheet, the top edge torn from a mini legal pad. “Number one,” he read, “ask me anything. Number two, my favorite blank is. Number three, I dare you to . . .” She grabbed the paper from him to read the rest. “You kept this?” “Of course,” he said, rummaging through the drawer to pull out another sheet of paper. This one had a word
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“I found the frame with the mat while thrift shopping with Elliot. It made me think about what you’d said, about not having any school pictures, and I thought . . .” He broke off, reaching up to cradle her face and brush away the tears she was only dimly aware were starting to fill up her eyes.
“I love it,” she said, standing on tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck to bring his body close to hers. “I love it,” she repeated in between kisses. “I love it. I love you—”
She loved him? She loved him.
Even in the last week, she’d opened up so much with him, and the sex was mind-blowing but it wasn’t even about the sex. It was about the way he sensed her trusting him. Loving him.
“I love you, too,” he said. “I just wanted to clear that up.” Her dark eyes searched his. “Really?” “Is that so hard to believe?” “Well, it is hard . . .” Asa felt his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as she pressed her pelvis into his. “Lauren Fox, was that a dirty joke?”
“Don’t be nervous,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, then catching her lower lip between his teeth. “This is the easy part.”
“If you think about it, though, there’s an inherent flaw in the Santa logic. Because he’s not supposed to discriminate, right? He only cares if you’re naughty or nice, which is within your control. And yet when you show up to school after winter break, somehow Santa brought the rich kids new electronics while you were left with a used pair of shoes or something.”
So instead he kissed the corner of her mouth, threaded his fingers in the silky strands of her hair that were now splayed on the pillow. “You’re worthy,” he said, but his voice was hoarse. He wasn’t sure she’d heard him until she pulled him down for a deeper kiss and tasted the salt on her lips.
Lauren couldn’t stand to hear another word that came out of his mouth. “I don’t know how much you’re paying him,” she said to Dolores, indicating Daniel with a dismissive gesture, “but there’s another line item you could cut from the budget. Not to mention untold legal fees and the amount of any future sexual harassment settlement.”
He opened his eyes, looking over at her for the first time. He loved her so much it was physically painful, an ache in his chest, his throat, until he realized his eyes were actually starting to sting. He had to glance away, blinking a few times.
“I love that you’re together, by the way. I had an inkling after the incident in the Snow Globe, and then when you got trapped in here overnight. The way that boy lights up when he looks at you!”
He meant he didn’t want to hide with you anymore, Lauren. Think about it. He spent years hiding relationships from his dad. He loved you, he wanted to be with you, he just wanted you to acknowledge it.”
“You thought he was rejecting you,” Kiki said, giving Lauren’s shoulder a squeeze. “And you wanted to make sure he knew that he couldn’t hurt you, that you’d already expected the rejection.”
“People want to show up for you, Lauren Fox. You have to let them.” “I know,” Lauren said, even if she wasn’t sure she did know. “But what if . . .” What if they don’t. What if it’s too late now. What if what if what if. “Then you show up for yourself,” Kiki said with a crooked smile. “Bloom where you’re planted.”
He wondered what Lauren was doing at that exact moment. Knowing her, she was probably organizing her closet again. Writing down lists of her resolutions for the year. Reading one last book to get in under the wire on her Goodreads goal. He almost smiled at the thought, before he remembered that he had no right to smile at anything she did anymore. Whatever she was doing, it was without him.
Who was he kidding. Of course he didn’t want to leave. Because up those stairs and on the other side of the door—there was Lauren.
“It’s for you,” she said. “The party.”
“I never meant that I didn’t want to be with you. It was just hard for me, keeping it a secret. I want to be able to talk about you, to touch you in public, to go out together without worrying someone is going to see us. I want to make you coffee in the break room or say shit like Let me check with Lauren and see if we have plans or take a picture with you and make it my lock screen.”
“I love you,” she said. “I really do love you, Asa Williamson. I don’t quite know when I started, but I know I haven’t stopped.”
“I love you, Lauren. Which is why I want you to have the best New Year’s Eve party possible. And then I love you so much I want every single person out of here five seconds after midnight. Deal?”
