Eric looks hungover as hell. He’s sitting on the floor next to Nick, a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of him, and a vaguely greenish tint to his face.
The living room looks like a battlefield—tables cluttered with half-finished drinks, empty plates, and abandoned snacks. Still, it’s clear someone already tidied up a bit. Probably Nick. He’s definitely the neatest of the three.
“Merry Christmas,” I say as we cross the room.
All three of them look up—each with a different level of enthusiasm.
“Merry Christmas!” Nick grins, way too cheerful. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I say, trying to ignore the eyebrow wiggle he throws in. “Everyone else gone?”
“Yeah, most left a couple hours ago,” Samia says, sitting up on the couch.
“You guys didn’t sleep at all?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at her.
“I got a little sleep,” she says, mid-yawn.
“The guest room was occupied by João and Derek,” Nick adds.
I give him a look. “Wait, what?” Then glance at Eric. “Isn’t Derek straight?”
Eric just shrugs, voice hoarse. “I don’t think anything scandalous went down. João was passed out cold, and when Iwalked in, Derek looked like he was guarding his unconscious body so no one would ravage his flower.”
I snort, amused. Then glance back at Moon, who’s been standing quietly behind me.
“You want coffee?” I ask.
“I’d kill for it,” he says, mouth twitching into a quick smile.
“Come on,” I nod, and lead him into the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, we come back carrying coffee, leftovers, and the aftermath of a very thorough kitchen makeout.
Samia scoots over to make space, and we settle onto the couch. As we eat and sip coffee, half-watching the TV, I catch Nick throwing me a series of very unsubtle looks.
He gestures toward his own neck and mouths something, trying not to draw attention—then adds a dramatic eyebrow wiggle for good measure.
That’s when it hits me. The hickey Moon left on my neck last night might actually be visible.
Well, shit. But it’s too late to care.
Moon catches the silent exchange and snorts. Then he turns to me.
“Wanna come meet my mom today?” he asks, cheeks instantly flushing.
“Yeah,” I say quickly, my face heating too. “Sure.”
“Meet your mom?!”
It’s Eric who blurts it out—loud enough to make everyone jump, nearly choking on his coffee. Samia and Nick both freeze, eyes wide.
Eric looks between us, frowning. “Wait, are you guys already at the meet-the-parents stage or something?”
I snort, ignoring Eric’s outburst—because really, what is there even to say—and Moon goes, “It’s not a big deal.”
I turn my attention back to the TV—then freeze.
“Where’s the remote?” I ask, louder than I mean to, scanning the room. Everyone stares like I’ve lost it, but I start digging between the couch cushions until I find it.
