“That was…” he trails off, his laugh carrying pure joy. “Definitely better than posters.”
“Should hope so,” I tell him.
“I vote for a jerk-off session at least once a month,” he says, letting out a yawn.
“Agreed. One day,” I say quietly, watching as his eyes find mine, “in the not-so-distant future, I’m going to marry the hell out of you, Taylen Howard.” I run my hands over the warm skin on his back as I add, “Fill a house with mini Taylens who’ll drive me completely mad.”
His laughter fills the studio with pure joy. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, cupping his face. “If you’ll have me. You, me, a whole bunch of kids who’ll probably be as stubborn as you and as musical as me. Sound like a future you might be interested in?”
“Ask the question, and you’ll find out.”
34
TAYLEN
The smellof cinnamon and pine fills the air, mixing with the sound of carols drifting from speakers mounted on light poles. Even though it feels like the festival only started a few days ago, it's been two weeks, and so much has happened. So much has changed. A few more hours, and the lights will turn off, the music will stop, and in a few days, after Christmas, this piece of land will return to Bastian and me.
“I love being out with you like this,” Bastian says, placing his arm over my shoulder and keeping me close. His eyes catch mine as we pause near a popcorn vendor. “Just being a normal couple enjoying a seasonal festival together.”
“Still not a date,” I remind him automatically, although my smile probably ruins my attempt at maintaining our running joke.
“Of course not,” he agrees easily, using his hold over my shoulder to pull me even closer. “Just two friends who happen to be disgustingly in love, walking arm in arm at a Christmas festival,” he whispers in my ear, making me shiver, not from the cold but from the memory of his voice in my ear as he poundedinto me, making me come hands-free, just before we stepped out this evening. “Totally platonic.”
“Taylen Howard, Sebastian Hall, is that a public display of affection I’m witnessing?” The familiar voice makes us both turn, finding Noëlle watching us with an expression of pure delight. Her girlfriend stands slightly behind her, amusement clear on her face.
Bastian kisses my forehead, giving us away.
“I knew it!” Noëlle practically bounces with excitement, her hand already extending toward her girlfriend. “Pay up, sweetheart. I told you they’d be official by Christmas.” The twenty-dollar bill changes hands with the sort of ceremony that suggests this bet has been an ongoing topic of discussion.
“You were betting on us?” I ask, feeling all kinds of mortified. My crush on Bastian was supposed to be a secret, dammit.
“Honey, the whole town’s been betting on you two,” Noëlle informs me cheerfully, tucking the money into her coat pocket with a satisfied pat. “Though most people had New Year’s Eve in the pool. I just had an inside track from watching you bicker at every opportunity and for every single reason known to humankind while we planned the festival. I even watched you argue over apple and honey muffins, although why you’d argue over that is beyond me.”
Her girlfriend, Sam, rolls her eyes fondly. “What she means is that we’re happy for you both. Even if some of us are now twenty dollars poorer.”
“Thanks,” Bastian says, the squeeze he gives my hand suggesting he’s enjoying this more than strictly necessary. “Anyway, I should buy my wonderful boyfriend here a hot cider. We’re on a date, you see?”
I roll my eyes as the girls head over toward the stage area.
“Kill me now,” I mutter. “Whole town’s been betting on us.”
“Never mind that, let’s grab some hot cider. I’m all about keeping my promises these days,” he says, and I poke him in the ribs.
Bastian’s arm remains steady over my shoulder as we weave between vendor stalls.
The festival lights continue twinkling overhead like stars brought close enough to touch, making the silver streaks in Bastian’s hair glow. His smile holds the promise of a more private celebration later, but for now we simply walk together toward Joe’s stall—not on date of course—letting the town we both love witness the happiness they apparently knew was coming long before we did.
Bastian’s family clusters near the counter at the pop-up bar, steam rising from their mugs.
Finn notices us first. “Happy Christmas Eve!” he declares. His shoulders look looser somehow, the tension that normally radiates from him noticeably absent as he raises his mug in greeting.
“You look suspiciously relaxed, little brother,” Bastian observes, accepting the steaming mugs Joe hands him without being asked. “Festival stress finally break you completely?” The teasing draws a laugh from Finn that sounds genuinely carefree, making his transformation even more remarkable.
I take a sip of the cider Bastian hands to me, enjoying the warm spiced drink.
“Tonight will be the first real sleep I’ll have in weeks,” Finn explains, satisfaction clear in his voice. “Everything’s handled. No work until after Christmas when this whole shebang comes down.” His smile grows slightly sheepish as he adds, “Though don’t count on me showing up on time for Christmas dinner tomorrow. I might actually hibernate until the new year.”
