"And you're the family rebel?"
"More like the family disappointment." He looks down at his hands. "The gay son who refuses to study political science or shake the right hands."
Knocking my foot against his. "Their loss."
He looks up, something vulnerable in his expression. "This is the first Christmas I've enjoyed the lead-up to. Usually, I'm dreading it from Thanksgiving onward."
"Me too. I usually try to ignore the whole thing until it's over."
"Look at us. Two holiday scrooges finding the Christmas spirit."
"Speak for yourself. I still think the commercialization of Christmas is a capitalist nightmare."
He laughs, the tension in his shoulders easing. "And there's the James I know and..." He stops abruptly, something flickering across his face.
"And?" My heart is suddenly hammering, and I'm desperate to know what he almost said.
"Like," he finishes, but we both know that wasn't what he almost said. "The James I know and like. Obviously."
"Obviously," I echo, the word catching slightly. Not pushing it, even though that warm thing in my chest is expanding fast enough to make breathing weird.
We're silent for a moment, the muffled sounds of the movie and occasional laughter drifting upstairs. Something about this quiet moment is more intimate than anything physical between us.
"I should finish packing," he says eventually, breaking the silence.
"Want company?"
"Always."
Caleb's room is neater than mine. Everything is in its place except for the open suitcase on his bed and clothes laid out beside it. He moves methodically, folding each item precisely before placing it in the suitcase. Sitting on his desk chair, I watch him.
"How long will you be gone?"
He literally told me this five minutes ago. Well done, brain.Mentally smacking myself in the forehead.
"Back on the 27th. Father has meetings in Sacramento on the 28th, so the family Christmas charade gets cut short this year." He carefully packs a sweater. "What about you? You'll be here the whole time?"
"Yeah. Nowhere else to go."
He pauses, looking up at me. "I'm sorry I won't be here for Christmas."
"It's fine. I'm used to it."
"That doesn't make it okay."
"The guys will be around. Emily's organizing a big dinner. I won't be alone."
He nods, returning to his packing, but something in his expression has shifted. "We should do something when I get back. Just us. A late Christmas."
"I'd like that," I say, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice and probably failing.
"It's weird," he says, zipping a side pocket of the suitcase. "A few months ago, I would have been looking for any excuse to avoid going home, but dreading it all the same. Now I'm... annoyed that I have to leave here."
"The frat's growing on you?"
"Not just the frat." His eyes meet mine. "You."
Oh boy.
