Fearless Like Us (Like Us 9)

We didn’t have sex. I’ve been nervous about being too loud since I’m staying on the same floor as my parents. So we just ended up cuddling.

Last night, we naked-cuddled. Or what I’m calling nuddling.

Banks and Akara were dying laughing this morning when I woke up and said “I really like nuddling with you two.”

And then Akara naked-grinded me with a playful, teasing smile and said, “How about naked-grinding?” He humped my leg, and I couldn’t stop laughing, especially as Banks joined in.

They both showered me with neck kisses, and I had the hardest fucking time leaving the bed. I wanted to stay, but Christmas tradition calls.

I snap on a bra. I’m still hot from all the teasing last night.

How we survived without going all the way is a fucking accomplishment that makes me smile.

Banks called it a Christmas miracle and Akara said, “Santa Claus isn’t the source of our willpower. Ryke hearing us fuck his daughter is.”

He has a point.

But Kits can be a Scrooge around this time of year. He’ll say bad things tend to fall during the winter months. I love how Akara steps one foot into logic and then one foot into something more instinctual and spiritual.

“Why’s the tradition with Luna and not Winona?” Banks wonders, watching me pull an ugly Santa sweater over my head.

“When I was younger, I used to share a room with Luna, and I’d wake her up to go to the lake.” I shrug. “We’re closer in age, and I think our parents hoped we’d be best friends…but she always gravitated towards Tom and Eliot, and I ended up hanging out with Beckett.” I find my jacket on the floor. “At the lake house, though, we’d share canoes and do things like that, but it really wasn’t until we roomed together at the townhouse that we got a lot closer.”

So this year, I’m pee-your-pants-on-Christmas-morning kind of excited to experience this with Luna again. We’re closer than we’ve ever been, and that means something to me.

I tell them, “I’ll be done before everyone wakes up for presents and home videos.” We always rewatch old home videos that my mom captured.

“Text me if the ice looks like it’s melting,” Akara says.

“Will fucking do.” Fully dressed in winter gear, I return to the bed. “See ya later.” I kiss Akara lightly on the lips, then Banks—each kiss is a peck. To be frank, I can’t stop smiling at the fact that this is real.

My boyfriends with me on Christmas morning.

I get to go outside in the privacy and peace of the lake house.

And they’re checking me out like I’m still as beautiful fully clothed as I am naked.

“She’s smitten,” Akara tells Banks.

He wears a crooked smile. “Can’t even look at us without blushing.”

“Goodbye,” I say, face burning. Fuck, they’re way too hot, and I’m just trying to make a semi-graceful exit.

“Bye, string bean!” Akara calls after me.

I flip him off without looking back.

Their laughter stays with me all the way down the stairs. I grab my ice skates from the mud room, steal a pizzelle from the kitchen (Banks’ grandma made batches of the Italian waffle-like cookie for her grandsons—and I’m fucking obsessed with them even more than Banks), and then I head to the back porch.

Last night, the lake was frozen over enough that my tradition with Luna should be a go.

Early morning ice skating, I’m coming for you.

Outside, snow-tipped wreaths, strung lights, and real icicles adorn the lake house. Festive and magical. The sky is a muddy shade of dark blue, and I decide to wait for Luna on the snowy deck.

A minute passes.

I watch the sky lighten.

Another five minutes. I check my phone. Maybe she forgot? Fuck, I should’ve reminded her last night. Or maybe she slept in on accident. Luna isn’t exactly an early bird.

Or maybe this tradition just meant more to me and less to her. I’m the one who always woke up Luna. I’m the one who grabbed her ice skates and said, let’s go.

Maybe she never really cared.

My stomach sinks lower and lower and lower.

Orange hues crest the mountains, and another two minutes tick by. I’m about to text her when the backdoor opens.

“Hey. Hi. Heidi. Ho. Howdy.” Luna lifts up her ice skates, poorly painted neon-green years ago, and decorated with old Lisa Frank stickers.

I laugh into a smile. “You remembered?”

“I never forgot.”

My heart swells.

“I’m not late, am I?” Luna asks, pulling on a multi-colored chunky sweater she knitted herself. “I set my alarm, but I slept through a few minutes.”

“No, you’re right on fucking time.” I sling an arm around her shoulders, and she grins. We head down the slick, icy stairs. “Watch that one,” I warn as I almost slide.

“Got it.” Luna skips the stair and grabs the railing.

Reaching the bottom, we head down the snowy hill towards the lake. I make out an approaching figure. We’re not alone out here. Like he took an early morning jog, Uncle Lo is decked out in running gear and hiking up the hill.