“Michael, I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “Does this have something to do with all the kissing?”
“Yes. I should have told you this the other day, but I… I like you too. A lot.”
The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile. “Yeah?”
I nod. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’ve been trying to fight it.”
“Why? Because of the stuff we just talked about?”
“Yeah,” I mumble. I look over at the Christmas tree, at the picture-perfect scene in front of me. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to do that anymore—keep hoping for something that would never happen. So I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t feeling anything. But—” I cut myself off with a hollow laugh, thinking of Geoff’s words. “I was kidding myself.”
I let my gaze slide back to him, and before I know what I’m doing I step up onto my toes and brush my lips over his, stealing a kiss. When I pull away he’s gazing at me affectionately, and he laces his fingers through mine.
“The thing is,” I say, looking down at our joined hands, “these articles I’m writing—this column…” I glance back up at him, feeling a little stab at the patience on his face. “This is the best opportunity I’ve had in a long time. I really want this. And because of the topic—”
“I know. You don’t have to explain.” He gives me a soft smile, squeezing my hand. “You’re writing about being single. You’ll probably have to be single to write it.”
I shrug. “Yeah. I mean, they never actually said that, but… I don’t see them giving it to me if I’m not.”
“I get it.” He lets out a heavy breath and it’s a white mist between us. “Alex… I’ll do what you want to do. I like you a lot, but I don’t want to get in the way of your career.”
I groan, tugging on his hand. “Saying that makes me want you more.”
“I want you, too.” A half-smile lifts his mouth, then drops away. “But if we want to be together, we need to do this right. I don’t want you to regret ruining this opportunity for me. You’ll know in a few weeks if you’ve got the column, why don’t we wait and see what happens?”
I swallow hard, looking down at the ice-rink below. A few weeks, knowing that he wants me as much as I want him, knowing what those lips taste like now… “I’m not sure I can,” I mutter.
When I glance back at him, he’s giving me a woeful little smile, and he releases my hand. “I think you should take some time to think about what you want.”
I nod, trying to ignore the feeling of despair that’s settled over me.
We gaze at each other for another moment, then Michael picks up the bag of books and we wander out of the Plaza, finding a cab home.
In the cab we don’t talk. I turn his words over in my mind:take some time to think about what you want.I know he means well, but that’s not going to help me in the slightest. Because it’s not that I don’t know what I want. I do, and it’s crystal clear.
I really want to write for Bliss Edition and, if I get the chance, to become one of their featured writers. I want to be paid to write, to make something of myself, to show my parents it’snotridiculous—and I want to prove to myself that I can do it.
But I alsoreallywant Michael.
Shit.
26
Annie runs her hands down Matthew’s firm, sculpted torso, biting her lip as she admires the impressive bulge in his pants. She knows what’s in there and she wants it all.
Her hands are quivering as she—
Wait, should that bequiveringorquavering? I halt my frantic typing to double-check.
Writing a romance novel isn’t how I’d usually spend Christmas Day, but it feels like it’s the only thing keeping me sane right now. It’s been five days since Michael kissed me under the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Plaza—five days since I told him I needed time to figure out what I wanted to do—and he’s been nothing but patient and understanding. He’s texted once to ask how I am, but he hasn’t asked what’s going on and why I can’t just sort myself the fuck out—a question I’ve been asking myself repeatedly.
Since meeting with Justin I’ve worked my butt off on two articles, which I sent through yesterday. They’re some of my best work, I think, and I’m super excited to see them published on Bliss Edition. Every time I think about what this could mean for my career, I get a rush unlike anything else.
Well, except the rush I get when I think of Michael: his lips brushing over mine, his hands on my waist, the desire in his eyes. That feeling is intoxicating, and it’s making it alotharder to figure this out.
I thought I’d decided, to be honest. I sent my articles off to Justin, proud of what I’d done, but ultimately knowing my heart wasn’t soaring in quite the same way it did when Michael kissed me. But then I got an email from Justin. He said the pieces were “funny and relatable—just what we’re looking for,” and that he’d be in touch soon. Reading that, my heart picked itself up and did a happy dance, and I realized that no, I wasn’t quite as certain as I’d thought.
