Ugly Sweater Weather

But I forced myself to stay still, especially when I felt Crosby start to shift, sensing the change, having it bring him toward consciousness.

A low, rumbling sound moved through Crosby, vibrating into my chest. I'd never heard something like that from him before. But if I wasn't entirely mistaken, it was a surprised but hungry sound.

His arm lifted, going around my hips, holding me to him, as the other rose to land at the back of my head, fingers sifting through my hair, likely thinking I was still asleep.

He should have been rolling away, pushing me off, but he seemed just as frozen in the moment as I was.

His chest rose and fell slowly, taking deep breaths, maybe trying to fight through his unexpected desire like I was. Any moment now, he would push me off, move away.

But then his voice broke through the silence of the room.

"Dea," he murmured, voice somehow rough and soft at the same time.

Not expecting the sound, my body jolted. And I guess that was a good thing; it was what I would have done had I actually been asleep like I'd been pretending.

My hands planted near his shoulders, pushing up, looking down at him as my hair fell forward like a curtain around both our faces.

I should have moved off of him.

That was what friends did when they were sprawled all over their platonic friend.

But I didn't do that.

And I couldn't even tell you why.

It made no rational sense.

"Hey," Crosby said in that same soft/rough voice, something unfamiliar, but more welcome than it had any right to be.

"Hey," I said, and I was pretty sure my own voice sounded odd. Lower, softer, almost shy. God, I'd never been anything even resembling shy with Crosby before.

His hand rose, tucking my hair behind my ear, smiling when it just fell forward again. But his hand didn't drop then. It shifted inward, fingertips grazing over my jaw, butterfly light, but it made a shiver work its way through my body nonetheless.

"You—" he started, only to be cut off by a loud scratching at the bedroom door, making both of us stiffen, turning to look at it.

"Hey hey hey," Clarence's voice said in a hushed whisper. "Don't do that. Leave Mommy and Daddy alone this morning," he demanded as he, I imagined, scooped up Lockjaw, and carried him back to the living room.

Something inside me seemed to click at that.

Mommy and Daddy.

Like Crosby and I were a couple.

But we couldn't be a couple.

He was my best friend in the world, my rock, my voice of reason when I was being irrational; If we tried to be more and it failed, I could lose all of that. I couldn't take that. He was too important to me.

"Whoops," I said, like I'd accidentally bumped into him instead of climbing him like a freaking tree. I slipped off of him, then flew off the bed, reaching for my sweater I'd abandoned the night before. "I, ah, Lock needs to walk," I said, rushing into his bathroom where I leaned back against the wall, taking a few slow, deep breaths, trying to bring some calm back to my chaotic body.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Things had been weird with Crosby for days. I didn't know what was going on, but it had to stop. I had to put a stop to it.

"Enough," I whispered to my reflection before using some of Crosby's mouthwash, then splashing some cool water on my face, and heading back out of the room.

I found Crosby in the kitchen with Clarence, both of them holding coffee mugs in their hands.

I wanted coffee so bad with the lingering hangover clinging to my brain, but I needed to get out of here, get out into the cool air, get some distance.

"We were going to make waffles," Clarence announced.

"Oh, thanks, but I have to get going. Lock needs to eat," I added, thankful for the excuse. He could, technically, have some of Lillybean's food, but hers was the full-fat kind while my chubby buddy needed the turkey flavored "healthy weight" formula.

"Alright," Crosby said, surprising me. He was usually someone who at least tried to talk you into staying for food. "What is on the schedule for today?"

Oh, right.

The twelve days of Christmas.

We weren't nearly done yet.

Luckily, tonight's plan didn't involve getting drunk and falling into the same bed together.

"Tonight we have the A Christmas Carol play. You know... the one at the community college," I told him, watching him wince, then smile, knowing what we were in store for, but still excited for it.

"I'll come get you at six-thirty," he offered.

"It's not until eight," I said, words nearly tumbling over each other in their rush to get out. "And it is midway between us. So I will just meet you there," I said, giving him a smile so fake it hurt my cheeks before I turned to get Lock into his sweater and onto his leash. "Okay. Well, we have to get going," I said, already at the door, pretending I didn't see the questioning look on Clarence's face, or the knowing one on Crosby's.