“Thanks.” I glance down at its blinking lights and tinsel that sheds with every step. The reindeer nose protrudes from my chest like some festive tumor. “It’s gotta be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever worn ... and it’s probably a fire hazard. But I love it.”
“You definitely pull it off.” Dylan gently touches my elbow, guiding me toward the center of the room where people are gathering. The brief contact sends an unexpected warmth up my arm.
In the living room, Nila is arranging people in front of the massive Christmas tree. And somehow, I end up right beside Dylan, our arms brushing as we stand shoulder to shoulder. I tense momentarily at the contact, then force myself to relax.
It’s just Dylan. We’ve stood next to each other hundredsof times.
But something feels different tonight. Maybe it’s the way he angles his body slightly toward mine, creating a small bubble of space that feels separate from the crowd around us. Maybe it’s the warmth radiating from him, a sharp contrast to the chill I always felt standing next to Garrett at these kinds of events. Garrett would position me like an accessory, his hand on my back more like a controlling grip than a gesture of affection. Dylan’s presence beside me feels nothing like that. He’s close but not crowding, attentive but not possessive.
“Sayhockey!” Nila calls before triggering the self-timer on the camera that’s propped on a tripod just a few feet away.
Dylan leans down so his head is more level with mine. “Hockeyyy.” His breath is warm against my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.
The flash goes off, capturing whatever expression is on my face, probably something between deer-in-headlights and someone who just touched a live wire.
What’s wrong with me?
“One more!” Nila calls, and this time Dylan’s hand settles lightly on my waist, so gently I could easily step away if I wanted to.
But I don’t.
Instead, I find myself shifting my weight imperceptibly toward him, like a plant bending toward sunlight.
The second flash captures us like this, and I can’t help but wonder what that photo will reveal.
“Perfect!” Nila declares, and the group begins to disperse back to their conversations and drinks.
Dylan’s hand lingers at my waist until the last possible second, his touch finally breaking as the crowd pulls us in opposite directions.
But even once he’s gone, my skin is still tingling where his palm rested.
I need air.
I drift through the crowd toward an empty spot on the couch near the Christmas tree. My cup of eggnog is nearly empty, but I’m careful not to spill what’s left as I weave through the partygoers. The lingering warmth from Dylan’s hand on my waist follows me across the room like a ghost, a gentle pressure I can still feel even though he’s nowhere near me now.
I don’t know why I’m so aware of his touch tonight when we’ve had a million casual contacts over the years.
I settle into the corner of the couch, tucking one leg beneath me. From this vantage point, I can see most of the party—Genna and Paul taking a selfie by the fireplace, Kade and Ella laughing with Blaze and Addy by the kitchen doorway, Cam helping Nila distribute more drinks, and rookies I’ve met at previous gatherings clustered near the food table, looking slightly out of place but trying hard not to show it.
It strikes me how different this feels from parties with Garrett. With him, I was always performing—laughing at the right moments, standing with perfect posture, making sure mycomments were intelligent but not threatening to the men in his tech circle. I’d return home exhausted from the effort of being Garrett’s girlfriend instead of just being Cheyenne.
Tonight, I’m just ... me.
Suddenly, the couch dips beside me. “This seat taken?” Dylan asks, though he’s already settled in, his knee inches from mine.
I turn to face him, and something flutters in my stomach at how close he is.
“All yours,” I say. “I’m just people-watching.”
“Find anything interesting?” He takes a sip of his drink and follows my gaze across the room.
“Just enjoying how happy everyone is,” I admit. “It’s nice to see.”
“How about you?” He turns his green-gold eyes on me. “Are you having a good time? I know these team things can be a lot when you don’t know everyone.”
“I am, actually.” I nod. “I feel more like myself than I have in ... maybe years.”
“Years?” His eyebrows lift. “That’s a long time to not feel like yourself.”
