Ugly Sweater Weather

Zach was average in about all ways. Average height, average built, average facial features, though he'd begun to obscure some of them with a blonde beard that matched the curly hair on top of his head.

"Again as in like last year?"

"Again as in twenty minutes ago," he told me, shaking his head. "I have seen things, Crosby, that I am afraid I can never unsee," he added, eyes playfully wide. "Why are you hiding in my room?"

"Dea," I admitted, shrugging.

"She just got here. You two are usually attached at the hip."

"Not anymore."

"Did you finally hook up? Was it awful?" he asked, voice a grave whisper.

"No. I gave up. And I told her I wanted space. I didn't think she would come tonight."

"Right, since you got us in the divorce," Zach agreed, nodding. "Did she tell you she didn't want to be with you? Rebecca and I were actually just talking about you two the other night. The fact that she looks at you just like you look at her."

"You were mistaken," I said, shrugging.

"Man. I can't imagine a world where you and Dea aren't finishing each other's sentences and being attached at the hip."

"Yeah," I agreed, feeling that ache in my chest again. "There is going to be a lot of adjustment."

"I bet," Zach agreed, nodding. "If you need to cut out early, we would understand. I will fill in Rebecca later."

"I probably won't be staying too much later," I admitted, shrugging. "I have a new puppy at home."

"And we haven't received ten-thousand puppy pictures yet because..."

"I will get on that," I said, giving him a tired smile.

"Okay. Well, if I don't see you before you head out, Merry Christmas, man. We will see you for the New Year's party."

"Merry Christmas," I said, giving him what I hoped was a halfway convincing smile even if I didn't feel it in the least.

It was strange to feel so down around the holidays. I guess this was what some other people experienced who equated holidays with a loss of some sort. There was a hole that felt like it couldn't be filled. It made even the twinkle lights look lackluster. It made the carols on the stereo sound forcefully cheerful.

I just needed to go home.

Maybe if I got some sleep, I would be better at faking it at the family gathering the next day. I was going to need some rest if I was going to deal with all the questions about where Dea was, how I was feeling about stepping away from her. Sometimes kindness from family felt a lot like cruelty when they kept dredging up something you wanted to stop thinking about.

And I did want to stop thinking about it.

About her.

Or so I thought.

Until I turned, ready to find my coat and head out, and I found her standing in the doorway.

Because what was my first thought?

Thank God.

Again, I didn't see any sadness, any anger, only that same sort of determination I'd seen before.

Determination to do what?

Talk to me?

Talk me out of my decision?

"Dea..." I started, shaking my head.

But then she was moving inward, slamming the door behind her.

I had no idea what her intentions were when she made a beeline for me.

But what happened was probably the last possible thing I expected.

She stopped right in front of me, taking one big, deep breath, then both arms raised, framing my face, drawing it down slightly just before she sealed her lips over mine.

It seemed like something inside me short-circuited in that moment because I couldn't seem to do anything but stand there with my body and mind frozen for a long second.

But then her chest pressed into mine, her soft curves meeting my firm lines, and it all came rushing back at once. The soft pressure of her lips, the cool fingertips of her hands on my cheeks, the crush of her breasts to my chest, the sweet smell of her perfume.

My body unstuck all at once, one arm going around her lower back, feeling her body heat through her thin dress, pulling her flush against me. My other hand went behind her neck, fingers sifting slightly into her hair as my lips took over, claiming, likely almost bruising in their intensity.

I'd spent far too much time thinking about getting a chance to really kiss Dea. I figured I'd played out every fantasy to its fullest extent.

But none of those fantasies came close to what the reality was like.

Her hands moved down from my face, arms wrapping around my neck instead, making her body press even more firmly to mine.

Her lips parted as my tongue traced the seam, inviting me in, letting out a low, sweet little whimper when my tongue teased over hers.

My lips ripped from hers, my forehead pressing against hers for a long moment as I tried to bring some rational thought back into my head.