Best Friends Don't Kiss

Karen (15A): Why is the Pilot messaging us from 2B? Shouldn’t he be in the cockpit?Rich (25D): It’s called friendly customer service, Karen.Ava snorts and covers her mouth with her hand as she watches me type out another message and hit send.Pilot (2B): You mind if I play a little AC/DC during the flight?Frank (14C): You’ve. Been. Thunderstruck! Let’s gooooooo!Karen (15C): This seems very unprofessional.Rich (25D): Karen, this is the pilot being friendly. It’s called customer service.That message gets Ava good. Her giggles become too much for her to bear, and without constraint, she bursts into laughter. Loud, contagious giggles echoing from our row. Damn, I sure do love making her laugh.

And the fact that I get to spend the next two weeks doing just that? Best trip ever.AvaOne ninety-minute flight and a two-hour drive later, and we have officially arrived in Lakewood. Home sweet home.

Luke pulls our rental into my parents’ circular driveway, bringing us to a stop, and the instant I open the passenger door, the brisk, fresh Vermont air fills my nose. There’s no snow, but it smells like it’s going to happen soon.

It’s little things like knowing the weather by a smell that makes this place feel so different from New York. I’ve been there for so many years, and yet, somehow, this is still home.

And for as long as we’ve known each other, this is still Luke’s first time here. It feels kind of momentous.

“It looks like Christmas threw up on your parents’ house,” Luke comments, staring up at my parents’ two-story white brick home. An amused smile plays at his full lips.

Though, technically, you can’t really see the white brick because it’s covered in every holiday decoration known to man, but his observation is spot-on. Christmas is in full swing at the Lucie house.

“I told you my dad goes a little wild for the holidays.”

He furrows his brow. “Am I just hearing shit, or is there Christmas music playing outside?”

“Yes, you are, in fact, hearing Michael Bublé sing Winter Wonderland. Not imagining it,” I answer frankly. “But don’t worry, the songs rotate all day, every day, until December 26th. You won’t have to listen to this one more than once in a five-hour circuit.”

“I’ve heard stories, but I’ll be honest, now it all really makes sense.” Luke snorts and puts two hands on his hips, taking in every inch of the view.

“What makes sense?”

“Why you forced me to drag a Christmas tree up five flights of stairs,” he retorts. “Why, for the past fifteen years, you’ve made me do all sorts of holiday shit.”

I turn back to the house and focus on Guy Lucie’s handiwork. He’s pulled out all the stops, and it’s apparent he’s even added a few new pieces to his prized décor.

Lights cover every square inch of the house and yard. I’m talking the roof, bricks, porch, shingles, gutters, the blue evergreen trees in the garden, every-freaking-where.

And that’s not the end of it.

Placed throughout the yard are various holiday scenes with blow-up Santa Clauses and reindeer and Frosty the Snowman and a nativity scene and, well, pretty much anything you can think of. He’s even created a small holiday farm scene with life-size light-up pigs and cows and goats. All embellished with red bows and jingle bells.

I’m so amused by Luke’s reaction to my dad’s holiday circus that I almost forget about the whole “my best friend is pretending to be my boyfriend” reality we’re about to face.

That is, until Luke retrieves our luggage from the trunk, puts it up on the porch, and then comes back for me so we can walk up to the front porch together, hand in hand. My heart picks up speed, pounding faster and faster inside my chest. I force a deep, calming breath in and out of my lungs and lift my hand to knock. But before my knuckles can make contact with wood, the door swings wide open.

“Ava!” My mom appears into view, the wrinkles around her blue eyes creased into an excited smile. “You made it!”

“Hi, Mom.” I return her smile, and she steps out onto the porch to wrap me up into a tight hug. Reluctantly, I let go of Luke’s hand to curl both my arms around her.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers into my ear and leans back to look at me. She gently brushes my blond hair behind my shoulders. “And you look so beautiful.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’ve missed you too.”

“You know, you’re positively glowing, sweetie,” she adds, and her eyes move pointedly to Luke. “Could it be because of this handsome boyfriend of yours?”

Oh boy. Here we go…

“Hi, Mrs. Lucie,” Luke greets, his body language all relaxed and cool.

My stomach feels like it’s twisted itself inside out, and my heart has apparently started a garage band inside my chest, inviting my lungs to join in on the anxiety-ridden fun.