He grins and asks, “What kind of story do you want?”
I think about it for a second before suggesting, “A Christmas one.”
He hums, brows furrowed together as he thinks of something. His eyes, much darker in the moonlit room, somehow lighten a bit as an idea hits him.
“Okay, I have a good one.”
I scoot an inch closer, smiling brightly at him, excited for his story.
“Once upon a time, there was this really awesome police officer who was going to visit his estranged wife for Christmas. She was stuck at work for a Christmas party, and of course, the party was taken over by terrorists. And?—”
Luke starts laughing as soon as my hand smacks his shoulder. “Luke, I meant an actual story, not the plot forDie Hard.”
“You didn’t even let me get to the best part. He fights the bad guys while barefoot, and there's a part where there is an epic explosion, and he says, ‘Yippee-ki-yay?—’”
“Luke!” I laugh, shoving him away and rolling onto my back.
“We could just watch the movie?” he suggests, and I ponder for a moment. I doubt that I’ll be falling asleep anytime soon, and he didn’t get to watch his favorite Christmas movie tonight. I shrug my shoulders.Why not?
“Alright, but only if we can watchThe Grinchnext.”
He grimaces at the mention of his least favorite Christmas movie. “The cartoon one or the Jim Carreyone?”
I suck in a breath of air and snap my head his way. “I’m shocked you even had to ask!”
“Okay, fine. But only because I like Jim Carrey.”
Not even ten minutes into the movie, I’m lost in my thoughts. In my defense, I’ve seen this movie a lot. Luke chuckles beside me, his attention focused on the television that sits across the room. I like that he's always felt comfortable enough around me to be himself. I feel the same, allowing Luke to see every shade of me. He’s seen it all. I guess that’s whatfifteen years of friendship will do to two people. We’ve shown each other all our imperfect shades.
I watch him, how the light from the television brightens his features, as he concentrates on the movie, and a lightness flutters in my stomach. My heart is overwhelmed with a sense of tenderness like I’ve never felt before. Something takes control of me. That can be the only excuse as to why I’m scooting closer to Luke, lifting his arm up so I can snuggle into the crook of his arm and torso.
He’s surprised at first, eyes wide as he looks at me, studying my face for a moment, until his arm slips around me. He places his warm hand onto my shoulder, pushing my body closer. He doesn’t return his gaze to the movie. He stares at me.
“Is this okay?” I ask.
I’ve spent so many years counting the seconds anytime we would touch, never wanting to push those boundaries between us. And yet, here I am, ready to push the boundaries a bit because my curiosity is overpowering me.
We may think that we fully control ourselves. However, I'm learning that a friend can easily reveal something about us that we had absolutely no knowledge about. That’s what all of this feels like, anyway. Fake dating each other has dug up feelings I never thought I would feel again.
“Yeah. You never have to ask to touch me, Liv.” His voice grows raspy.
I don’t know when I started thinking about kissing Luke, but suddenly, the thought is buzzing under my skin, a sizzle in my blood. What would it be like to unravel Luke like one of my apron strings?
I swallow, the sound loud between us, and place my head on his chest so I can quit staring at his lips. My body jolts when his hand slides down my arm and settles onto my hip. There is a tingle of awareness that shoots up from where his touch is, every nerve on my body turning into a live wire. In fact, Luke is the only person to make me feel this way…ever.
I force myself to watch the rest of the movie, keeping my head firmly planted onto his chest. After a while, the tension begins to leave my body, and I melt into him. Luke’s hand moves up to my shoulder and starts tracing tiny circles, sending zips and zings up and down my spine. I’m not sure when, but eventually, we both drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.
Chapter Seventeen
Luke
Olivia stirs beside me, her face pressed against my arm, and I’m sure that I’ll never be able to get used to this. I’ve been awake for a while, mainly because the arm that’s currently under Olivia’s face has fallen asleep. I’ve been studying the slope of her nose, the freckles that dust along her cheekbones and tops of her shoulders, the stream of drool dripping down her lips.
Having her like this feels perfect. A dream come true. If my arm wasn’t tingling in pain, I would think I was still asleep. My arm is saved by the bell—and by bell, I mean the sounds of Olivia’s alarm. I chuckle as she scowls and slaps her phone until the noise stops.
I reach over and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, loving how the auburn strands take up most of our pillow space. She stirs again, this time grunting and stretching her arms.
She smiles at me, her eyes half-closed, lips curling at the edges. Her soft shirt has slipped off her shoulder, revealingcreamy skin, and her hair is sticking up every which way. She smiles sleepily, and my breath hitches at the sight.
