My December Darling: A Holiday Novella

Luke Darling is kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before, and I’m not sure what to do with this discovery. It is better than I ever could’ve imagined, and my brain feels like it floated away from my body, leaving me to make some very questionable decisions tonight.

I shut my mind off and deepen the kiss. The urge to explore his body with the tips of my cold fingers becomes undeniable, and I take advantage of his distracted state to slip my hands inside his coat and memorize the curves and planes of muscle.

His hips jut forward when I flick my tongue over his before sucking on his bottom lip. The obvious sign of his arousal makes my head spin, and my ego explodes as he shows me just how much my touch affects him.

I feel drunk off his pheromones, and for a brief moment, I wish to never sober up.

Or at least I had until a neighbor driving by my parents’ house rudely yells out, “Get inside before you catch a cold!”

Our lust-filled haze dies, and reality comes roaring back as I stare up at Luke with a blend of horror and fascination.

He didn’t just kiss me. He ruined every kiss of my past, present, and future, reshaping my expectations and creating a craving that only he can satisfy.

It terrifies me, and I take a step back, as if adding space will somehow clear my head of all the thoughts surrounding him. He doesn’t seem to share my same feelings of apprehension as he steps forward and clasps my chin.

He brushes the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. “That was…” He is breathless and his eyes are hooded as they drop to my mouth again.

I shiver, and he shakes his head. “Fuck.”

I take another step back despite the desire to close the gap between us again.

“Catalina,” he rasps, and my lower half pulses at the sound of pure need in his voice.

“Yes?” I keep my voice emotionless.

“Go on another date with me?”

I’m not sure what I was expecting him to say, but that was not it.

“Who said the last one was a date?”

He makes a face.

“You know, for someone who looks like a dark-haired Captain America, you sure lack finesse.”

“What can I say? You bring out a self-conscious side of me.”

“Really?” I thought as much but hearing him confess it aloud makes me giddy.

There he goes, rubbing the back of his neck again. Now that I come to think of it, I never see Luke do that unless I’m nearby, and the thought makes my chest all warm and tingly again.

Hm. Maybe I like throwing him off his game and ruining that image of confidence he puts on for everyone else.

“Are you thinking about it or…?” He doesn’t finish his sentence, another habit that I suspect only happens when I’m in his proximity.

I could reject him. It would be easy to throw up some walls, protect myself from the inevitable hurt I’m bound to feel once I leave town, and avoid the possible drama that could unfold if things became more serious, but at the same time, it feels like one of the most difficult decisions I’ve had to make in a while.

Truth is, I want to spend more time with Luke. Even if nothing serious comes out of us hanging out together, I can’t deny the impulse I have to see this through, regardless of all the reasons I shouldn’t.

“What do you have in mind?” I ask.

His smile comes back in full force. “Ordering takeout and working on the Galactic Command Base together at my place?”

I cross my arms and quirk a brow. “Is that Luke code for sex?”

“Shit.” His cheeks, which were red from the cold, deepen in color. He tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jacket, as if to stop himself from rubbing his neck again. “Would you rather us go somewhere else? I just thought you would like to build the set with me—” he rambles before I cut him off and give his shoulder a little shove.

“I was just teasing you. That sounds perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’d rather do that than go to a restaurant or something.” I’ve dated a few men throughout my life, and none of them have been interested in spending a night together doing something so simple yet so me, and I’m not about to squander the opportunity.

“So, Friday? Let’s say seven p.m.?” His confidence grows, and my smile along with it.

“Sure.”

“And tomorrow we’ll meet up in the break room to work on the speech?”

“Only if you promise to have a cup of coffee ready for me.”

“Deal.” He drops a quick kiss on my lips, and they tingle as he steps away from me.

I turn and unlock the front door, keeping my excitement hidden as I quietly slip inside the house. The last thing I want to do is wake my parents up and have them question who I was staying out until midnight with.

The door clicks shut behind me, and I press my back against it. With a trembling hand, I brush the pads of my fingers over my swollen lips.

If one kiss has me feeling this light-headed, I have no idea what the future will bring me, but I do know one thing. Whatever happens between Luke Darling and me might be temporary, but this connection is anything but fleeting, and it absolutely scares me.

Thankfully, I don’t get sick with pneumonia or the flu after my dumb decision to walk to the bar last night, but unfortunately, I’m suffering from a different kind of illness.

Early signs of lovesickness.

Or at least that’s what my best friends keep saying in the Work Wives group chat after I catch them up on yesterday’s date.

She attaches a photo from Luke’s social media profile where he’s dressed up like an elf while he and an older volunteer, who is wearing a Santa costume, were photographed delivering gifts to children at the hospital.

Winny sends an eye-rolling emoji.

I tell myself that I’m just excited about working on the Galactic Command Base, but it’s hard to ignore the way my heart picks up speed whenever I think about seeing Luke again after tonight’s shift. I’ve been on one date with the man—and he has me twirling around and checking my phone often.

I choke on my laugh while typing out my message.

I tuck my phone into my pocket and finish getting ready for work. Today, I choose to spend a little more time on my appearance, going the extra mile to curl my hair, add some eyeliner, and swipe a bit of highlighter on the tops of my cheekbones. I even tear the tag off a new scrub set I bought for the season and throw it on.

Do I feel a little ridiculous for being this worked up over seeing Luke later? Yes, but oh well. If getting dolled up and wearing a new pair of scrubs makes me feel good about myself, then screw it. I don’t have much to lose.

Except your heart?

I push the thought away and exit my bedroom. My mom’s eyes brighten when they land on me, and she pauses the TV show she was watching to follow me into the kitchen.

“You look nice.”

“Thanks.” I open my lunchbox and start packing a few snacks.

“I like your new scrubs.”

“Oh. Thank you.” I self-consciously brush a hand down the front of the smooth material, ironing out a nonexistent wrinkle. My mother has never commented on my scrubs before, so I’m surprised she noticed a new set, let alone complimented it.

“You have a leftover piece of the plastic tag stuck in your hair.”

Before I have an opportunity to search for it, my mom walks over and plucks the incriminating piece of evidence from my curled strands.

“There.”

“Thanks.” My chest squeezes.

She gives my shoulder a squeeze before adjusting my hair so it falls down my back. “You look beautiful.”

“Because I decided to wear makeup today?” My eyes automatically roll. My mom is the type who encouraged us to never leave the house without makeup on and our hair done, so I’m not shocked at her approval.

“No.” She shakes her head, stunning me. “Because you look happy.”

My heart—that traitorous organ that can’t seem to pull itself together lately—aches from her statement. I feel a bit like an asshole for assuming the worst, which is something I clearly have to work on if I ever expect our relationship to improve.

She’s trying, so you should too.

Yet despite the mental reminder, I’m not sure how to respond to her but thankfully, I don’t have to as she pulls me into a hug, enveloping me in the scent of her floral perfume and the hint of cinnamon that clings to her clothes and hair during coquito season.

“I know things have been…hard for us, especially more recently.” That’s putting it lightly. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been the easiest to get along with. I’ve spent some time thinking about what we talked about the other day, and there is truly nothing that makes me happier than to see you happy. If I ever made you believe otherwise, then I’m sorry, and I’ll work to be better.”

“Really?” I look at her while rapidly blinking my eyes as a precautionary measure against breaking into tears.

“Really.” My mom kisses my cheek before exiting the kitchen, leaving me to wonder if maybe there is hope for our relationship after all, so long as I learn to first let go of years’ worth of hurt.

Luke isn’t waiting for me in the break room after our shifts are over like we had planned, so I make him and myself a cup of coffee before I wait at the same table we sat at last time. Time goes by painfully slowly, and after ten minutes, I battle between texting him or not to check in. I don’t want to seem desperate or clingy, so I consider taking his absence as a sign of maybe him getting held up from an emergency case.

I have this gut feeling that Luke wouldn’t ditch me without letting me know, especially not after last night’s kiss and him asking me out on another date. So, I muster up some courage and text him to check in.

I send a photo of the cup I made him five minutes after I arrived because I wanted to keep my mind busy.

More like you wanted to do something nice for him. I groan under my breath at the thought before I wait for a response that never comes. Eventually, my message goes from delivered to read, and I sit with my stomach in knots while I wait for a response that never comes.

After ten minutes of staring at my phone like it might combust, I dump out my half-finished coffee and Luke’s untouched one before heading to the parking garage.

During my drive home, my negative thoughts get the best of me, and I’m already assuming the worst about our situation. I had hoped Luke would answer me at some point before I parked in front of my parents’ house, but no text ever comes.

Is he having cold feet about us after last night?

Did he realize that I’m not worth the trouble since I’ll be leaving anyway?

I can’t escape the worried thoughts plaguing my head, and Luke not answering my message only fuels them. He should’ve responded to my text already, but maybe he doesn’t want to talk anymore.

The thought of that happening makes my stomach sour, and I struggle to unwind once I get home. No matter what I do, I can’t distract myself from being annoyed for caring so much about someone after one stupid date.

I told myself multiple times that I’m leaving come January first, so it would be in my best interest to keep to myself, but here I am, agonizing over whether or not a guy texts me.

That’s because you’re growing attached.

The realization hits me harder than I expected, and I’m not sure what to do with the information. With a traveling job like mine, becoming dependent on someone from Lake Wisteria isn’t an option for me, especially not someone who could be a part of my life for the definite future because he is best friends with my future brother-in-law.

Maybe you should have thought about that before you agreed to a date.

Something about Luke made me want to try. Aiden never pushed to break through the protective barrier I kept in place, but it only took Luke a few occasions to make me question letting someone in.

Stupid mistake.

Today’s situation proves why I should’ve stuck to my original plan to keep to myself and survive the month until I head out to California.

Instead of giving my pessimistic thoughts any more fuel to grow, I choose to focus on my future and pick out a sublease to stay at during my time in Los Angeles, which unlike Luke, is a sure thing.