“Holy shit, Dealla, you’ve outdone yourself.”
My face heats with the compliment, and I flap a hand in the air at Tristan’s words. The discomfort of being in the center of attention only grows when the others chime in with their own praise. I finish filling my plate then head to the living room. Evelyn has left a spot between herself and Holden, so I settle in the empty space.
The television flickers on, and Tristan connects his phone—and music streaming app—to it. His playlist appears on the screen; he taps a button on his phone, and a strong guitar riff comes from the speakers. Luci gives a small cheer as the drums come in, and I can only laugh at my friend’s enthusiasm. Tristan adjusts the volume so we can all speak without shouting, and conversations flow. I listen with one ear to everyone, but I largely stay quiet. Holden’s thigh presses against mine. I relish the warmth, the solid steadiness.
“So, not that I’m complaining, but why aren’t we watching the game?” Evelyn asks.
Luci cackles and I snort at Tristan’s grimace. He throws his roll at Luci, who giggles and peels the bread in half. I shake my head and answer Evelyn: Tristan is vehemently against sports since he got kicked off the baseball team in high school.
John swallows his mouthful of food and asks, “Why’d you get kicked?”
Tristan sighs and tells everyone about “this asshole kid” deciding Tristan had screwed up during their game and swung a bat at his head. Even though I know the tale by heart, word for word, I still wince at the mental image my best friend’s words dredge up. Mike’s actions had caused a brawl among the players, and it took three adults to peel Tristan away from Mike. Both boys got banned from school sports for their remaining two years. Tristan still thinks it was worth it, even if he’s unhappy with the consequences.
Once we have all finished eating, I help Tristan and Luci gather up the empty plates and plastic cutlery. I’ve just dumped the plates into the recycle bin when Tristan steers me out of the kitchen.
“What—Tristan Marcus, what are you doing?”
“You go away. You cooked, so shoo. Go sit on your pretty little ass and drink some wine.”
Shaking my head, I do as ordered, making sure to grab the bottle of whiskey for Holden on my way to the living room. An odd expression rests on his face, but he doesn’t speak as he sits on the floor with Ashton. I frown, cocking my head, as my mind replays the last two minutes. It clicks, and I understand. I lower myself to the floor behind him, legs stretched out next to his, and rest my cheek against his shoulders. My arms snake around his waist; his fingers entwine with mine.
“Only you,” I remind him softly.
The tension bleeds from his body.
Someone snaps a photo of us, but neither Holden nor I move. I do, however, call out a demand for the picture to be in my inbox immediately. Eddie laughs and promises to send it without delay. After a moment, I pull away, carefully push to my feet, then lean down to press my lips to Holden’s hair. He smiles up at me, and I hope he’s heard the reassurance I don’t—I can’t—say aloud.
Night descends. Ashton is the first to fall asleep, curled up on Luci’s lap. As I tuck him into bed, the others clean up the mess from the meal and drinks we’ve shared after. Tristan passes out spare blankets and pillows while Luci arranges them on the floor and couch. Once everyone is situated in their sleeping spots—Tristan and Luci on the floor, John and Evelyn cuddling on one end of the couch, Eddie on the other—I lead Holden into the bedroom and close the door. I undress in silence, slipping into a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt he’d left behind, and he strips down to his boxer-briefs and undershirt.
I fall asleep to his fingers brushing soft circles on my back, his body stretched beside mine, and the steady cadence of his breathing more soothing than any lullaby.
The next morning comes too soon, in a swath of light and the little knees slamming against my neck. I groan and push Ashton gently away. He giggles, settling in between my body and Holden’s. When I roll over, it’s to see tiny fingers poking at the tip of Holden’s nose. He mutters intelligibly and raises a hand, ostensibly to swat at whoever is attempting to wake him. His eyes fly open, and he yanks his hand back so he doesn’t smack Ashton.
Unfortunately, the domesticity gets interrupted by a knock on the door. Eddie’s voice comes through the wood, warning Holden they’ll be late if they don’t leave in the next twenty minutes. I frown. I don’t want them to leave. I don’t wantHoldento leave. I’ve enjoyed this slice of life with him. I’d had a taste of it when I visited him in Franklin; another taste has led to me wanting more.
I watch thirty minutes later as Holden presses a kiss to Ashton’s forehead then sets the toddler on the floor. Ashton toddles off toward Luci while Holden turns his attention to me. I lean forward to meet him in the middle, hope he can understand in my kiss what I feel for him.. He pulls away looking a little dazed, so I take it as a victory even while my heart breaks in my chest. Eddie shoves Holden to the side, embraces me tightly, then bounds out of the apartment. Evelyn and John exit with cheerful goodbyes. Holden kisses me again then follows his friends.
“I think Thanksgiving was a success,” Tristan announces from the living room while I close and lock the door.
“Yeah,” I murmur before clearing my throat. I make my way to the couch and drop to sit beside him. “Yeah, it was.”
“Was he okay yesterday? And don’t try to lie to me, Dealla.”
I sigh and let my head drop back. Should I truly be honest? Or should I downplay Holden’s emotions? But it’s Tristan. I can’t lie to him even if I wanted to. So I explain the jealousy, the way it reared its ugly head. Tristan frowns and runs a hand through his hair.
“I don’t mean—”
“Oh, I know you don’t mean to make him jealous. And I think he knows it, too. It’s just hard on him because you and I see each other almost every day, whereas he and I can only see each other through video calls.”
“Should we stop?”
“No!” Luci shrugs when both Tristan and I look at her. “I somehow doubt Holden is the kind of guy who would take it well if you end a years-long friendship because of him. I think he’d be really pissed, “
I nod slowly then admit Luci is right—it would absolutely upset Holden, probably even infuriate him, if he found out I ever stopped talking to Tristan for any other reason than I wanted to. Sighing, I tilt my head until it rests on Tristan’s shoulder. I have no words, so I say nothing. I just watch Ashton play with his toy piano, my mind racing. What would I do if I was forced to choose between my best friend and my boyfriend?
I’m not sure, and this fact is terrifying in itself.
Decisions to Make
