Krystal
Children run through the cobblestone streets with sparklers, their giggles and shouts slightly louder than the wheeze of music drifting from the town speakers. A song I’ve never heard before, asking Santa Claus if he ever goes to the ghetto, blares over the crowd. The street is lined with dim streetlights, each wrapped with garland and peppered with white Christmas lights. We missed whatever event launched this portion of the evening.
I don’t regret a thing.
My body is so aware of Nick’s, vibrating with the need to feel his hands on my body again. I have never felt a spark so electric and instant. He kissed me, and it felt like lightning in my body, striking over and over again.
The way he spoke to me — spokeintome. I mindlessly rub my hands up and down my arms to chase away the goosebumps that populate under my coat. Remembering is what I need indeed. I need to remember what it feels like to be touched, to be filled with the affection of someone else, to be consumed.
I hazard a glance over at him. He’s laughing with one of the locals, asking the man about what looks like an old school film camera. The crowd starts to move again, and he falls in linebeside me. His energy is brighter and contagious. I can’t wipe the idiotic smile off my face. It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.
The crowd dances to the next location. Whatever we missed ignited a shift in the vibe. I welcome the change eagerly. The giant Christmas tree looms over us, dark and intimidating as we gather around the clock tower. The arms tick closer and closer to nine o’clock, and a quiet anticipation buzzes in the air. The choir from the first performance, and the duet from the second, stand off to the side, and the entire town grows silent.
They begin an uptempo rendition ofJoy To The World. Someone in the crowd starts singing along, and before I know it, the entire town is singing with them. We rock from side to side, and it feels like the whole Bay is rocking with us. When one of the choir members starts beat boxing on the last chorus, my cheeks begin to hurt from smiling so wide. My throat grows hoarse from projecting so loudly. Nick flings a careless arm around my shoulder, and it feels so, so good, to relax into his side.
The clock bell tolls, and the tree comes to life. My soul floats above my body, and I see myself clapping and hear myself cheering, and I don’t know that woman anymore, but I want to become familiar with her again. I throw my other arm around Nick’s neck and plant a loud kiss on the side of his cheek. His grin grows wider, unperturbed by my sudden show of affection. It feels like I belong here. With him, with them — I feel less like someone who’s lost everything and more like an empty cup ready to be filled to the point of overflow.
When we enter the theater, we’re served champagne and directed to a row of seats near the front of the stage. I read over the short program, excited for the rest of the performances forthe night. Nick takes my hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss on my knuckles. My pulse hums beneath my skin.
The lights dim.
The first performers take their place on stage.
What if I only feel this way because I’m with him?
A sudden wave of anxiety washes over me. The thought simmers in the back of my mind as my scalp prickles with nervous sweat. The dancers begin their routine toWhite Christmas,and I focus my attention on their agile bodies. I hum the tune of the song, but I can’t shake the bitter taste at the back of my tongue.
I’m slow to rise with the rest of the crowd when they stand in applause. Nick takes his phone out, swiping away — distracted. My heart falls to the pit of my stomach. In the pocket of my coat, I hear my phone vibrate. My heart falls again when I see the notification is a text from the man standing next to me. I click it open, my mouth falling open when I see the attachment is one of the pictures he took that I fell in love with. He managed to capture the exact feeling I experienced in that moment. Skating, but feeling like I’m flying.
My head snaps up to his. He leans over. “I forgot to send that to you this morning.”
My brows furrow as we take our seats, and the lights dim once again. The wild, smiling woman looking up at me from my phone screen fills me with pride. I remember the way it felt, doing something I love — alone. And tonight, watching them performO Holy Night,myfavorite Christmas Carol…and didn’t Nick fall behind after that? I didn’t see him again until after the second stop.
My nerves settle into something more secure. This isn’t about being with him. I shake my head, stealing a glance at himbefore training my attention on the stage. How can someone who knows nothing about you know exactly what you need?
This can only be about him if I make it about him. Maybe I should give myself some grace. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. Maybe I forgot what it felt like. Maybe this is what it feels like to remember.
The night continues, and I enjoy every bit of it. I love the reactions of the town to each other, love it when Nick leans in close to give me his commentary. I’m as light as a feather by the end of the night. My palms burn when I stand for the last time tonight with a round of applause.
I anticipated feeling exhaustion aching in my bones by the time we got back. Instead, energy hums through my veins. Gayle is serving us coffee and tea. The night exceeded all expectations.
“I hear some of the locals are probably hosting after parties, but I don’t know about you folks — I’m ready for my bed,” She says, not acknowledging the sparse laughter and responding chatter to her announcement. “See you tomorrow, everyone.” She waves, disappearing into her side of the house.
I sip my tea, a small smile permanently etched onto my face as I recap the events of the evening. Bit by bit, the guests saunter to their rooms until Nick and I are the only ones left. Rita nods her good night in our direction, and as soon as he hears the lock to her door click into place, he pulls me into his lap.
Krystal
Desire vibrates through my body as I rest my hand against his jaw, continuing what we started earlier. His tongue is silk, his skin velvet. My body heats, molding like clay in his strong hands. He explores me eagerly with shaky movements that tell me he wants me just as much as I want him, and it feels so fucking good to be wanted.
I peel the gloves off my arms, needing to feel the raw texture of his body. The coarseness of his hair is smoother than I thought, the fullness of his muscles harder than I imagined. I’m wearing fleece-lined leggings under my dress, so when his hand skims the inside of my thigh and up to my center, I don’t expect to feel the tremor that treks through my body when his fingers graze my wetness. My back arches, pushing my breasts into his chest.
“You’re so sensitive for me, Snowflake,” he says, desire dripping from every word. I sigh into his neck, spreading my legs and exposing my neediness. He bites his lip, skimming his fingers against the softness of the fabric with a touch that’s barely there. Barely there, but so effective. I whine against his skin, nestling his neck. My hips wind in a circular motion, chasing his hand. He flicks the warm flesh between my thighs again with that soft graze. I need more, but I refuse to ask himfor it. By pressing my legs together, I create delicious friction between my thighs as I start to pleasure myself.
He groans, parting them so he can have access again. I let him in, peppering tiny kisses along the length of his neck. He strums my center, adding pressure as he rubs me up and down. The backs of my eyes burn as my release builds in my core.
“You like that, Snowflake?” He asks, upping his pace just a bit. The combination of his expert movements and the desperation in his voice sends me over the edge.
“Fuck,” I moan, pushing my pelvis into his palm and closing my eyes as they roll to the back of my head. I feel like I should be embarrassed for coming so hard over so little, but I don’t get the chance. He wraps my leg around his hip so I’m straddling him, my hot core pressed against the stiffness of his trapped erection. With one hand, he rocks me back and forth over his zipper, and with the other, he holds the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. His mouth travels down my chin, suckling the sensitive skin under my ear as he grinds into me from below.
