Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Emily sighs. “If Mom and Dad split up, you two have to be my new parents. End of story.”
Niko bites back a smile. “Not too sure I’m the best role model, but okay.”
“At least someone in this fucking world is capable of love,” she says. “You guys are cute together.”
I glance over at Niko, and he looks back at me.
Love.
What a strange word to think about, while Niko’s eyes are on me.
It starts to feel too overwhelming to look at him, so I stand up and turn off the heater. “Okay, Em. I think you’ve probably scared Mom and Dad enough for the next year. I don’t condone drinking, but if you do, please, for the love of God, have water in between each drink.”
“Yes. Right. Water. I need water right now.”
We head inside with her, get her a giant insulated cup full of water, and Mom makes her some buttered toast. While Emily’s in the bathroom, I talk with Mom and Dad, trying to reassure them that she will be okay. I don’t mention anything about their supposed fighting. It’s a topic for a time of day that isn’t nearly five in the morning.
My parents spend about ten minutes straight apologizing to Niko for the commotion, even though I can tell he isn’t fazed by it at all.
In fact, he’s calmer than I’ve ever seen him. He’s been like a steadfast rock, all night. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that Niko Berlant could be a pillar of stability, but that’s exactly what he’s been for me tonight.
When Niko and I are heading back up the stairs, I look back down at my parents.
“Oh, yeah. Merry Christmas,” I call down to them.
“Merry Christmas!” Mom calls back up. “I’m still going to be up by nine making cinnamon rolls for breakfast, don’t you kids worry.”
Once we’re back in my room, I sit on the edge of my mattress, staring out into the middle distance for a moment.
I don’t bother turning on my bedside lamp.
Right now, the darkness feels peaceful.
“I don’t even know what to say,” I tell him.
“Don’t say anything, then.”
I feel his weight sinking onto the mattress behind me. And a moment later his palm is on my back, stroking up and down, rubbing me.
Usually, after a night like tonight, I would be alone up here in my room, ruminating. Worrying about every little thing that my sister did and said. Worrying about my parents.
But everything feels different with Niko nearby.
Finally, I speak.
“I’m sorry if any of that was intensely awkward for you, Niko.”
“Not even slightly. You want to know something weird?”
“Yes. Please. Always.”
“I feel like I belong here more than I even belonged in my own house,” Niko says. “You guys actually talk. Talk things out, talk about your feelings, express yourselves. My mom… she’s like a fucking wall made of ice. One time she came home and told me that Ben, a man she was dating for an entire year, was thrown in jail for embezzlement, and would be in prison for six years. She said it without crying. Without expressing even a shred of emotion.”
“What the fuck?”
I turn back to look at him.
He looks so arrestingly beautiful in the ambient glow from the Christmas lights outside, with two pillows propped behind him. It’s still a shock to see him in my bed.
“Like I said. She doesn’t do emotion. Or communication. Or… baking goddamn cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. Your mom and dad could be fighting each other every minute, and it would still be better than my house. Emily could come inside ripping a bong the size of the Christmas tree, smoking this whole house out.”
I let out a laugh, and it’s like a weight lifting from me.
“I suppose your problems make mine seem trivial.”
The image of Callum swirls through my mind, and my spine feels cold.
He’s still out there.
Probably still heavily weighing on Niko’s mind.
Just because we’re in our cozy little winter snowglobe for Christmas doesn’t mean that reality isn’t waiting for us on the other side.
I finally get under the covers and let myself cuddle close to him.
I run my hands over his arms.
I don’t care if I’d usually stop myself from doing it. I don’t want to do anything else.
“Your problems are real, too,” he says softly. “But I promise I like being in your world, Ollie.”
I watch his gaze dance around my room.
Suddenly I’m aware of each heartbeat thudding in my chest.
How do I feel so right with you, right now?
Why am I letting myself believe this?
He looks from poster to poster on my walls, the reflection of the Christmas lights faintly dotting each one.
“Which movie was your favorite, as a kid?” he asks.
I stare at the framed poster at the center of the opposite wall, and I reach out to point at it.