by Emily Lowry
I looked at Nina. She looked beautiful, standing there on that perfectly decorated front porch in a gold, shimmery party dress. Her black curls framed her face like a halo, highlighting her delicate features and wide, dark eyes. She looked breathtaking. Beautiful.
And when my eyes met hers, I knew I had to do this. I found a brief, flitting confidence that I didn’t know I had, and I strummed the first chord of the song. “This one is called, ‘I Wish Nina a Merry Christmas.’”
I quickly pulled the note out of my pocket, the one with the little heart on it, and checked the lyrics I’d written for Nina.
48
Nina
My heart was thumping so loudly, I was amazed that I could hear anything at all. I watched Tyler pull the note – the one with the heart, the one I thought was from Amber – out of his pocket. He read it briefly. Maybe it was the chords to the song. Or maybe the lyrics.
The thought made me giggle. Tyler was not a musician – he’d be the first to say so. So what was he doing standing on my front lawn, in front of my entire family, holding a guitar?
Then he strummed the first chord for “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” and my heart nearly exploded.
And then he sang.
* * *
I wish Nina a Merry Christmas
I wish Nina a Merry Christmas
I wish Nina a Merry Christmas and a trumpet-filled year
Your love is a gift, just missing a bow
I wish Nina a Merry Christmas and a trumpet-filled year
* * *
Oh, bring me the mistletoe now
Oh, bring me the mistletoe now
Oh, bring me the mistletoe now
And bring it right here
Steal a cookie from the kitchen, and hide behind shelves
I wish Nina a Merry Christmas and a trumpet-filled year
* * *
I won’t go until I’ve kissed her
I won’t go until I’ve kissed her
I won’t go until I’ve kissed her
So bring her right here
Eat while biking, and swim in the sea
I wish Nina a Merry Christmas and I want her for years
* * *
Tyler stopped rather abruptly. He looked at the circle of spectators and shrugged, clearing his throat. “That’s all I’ve got so far. I was hoping…”
Somehow, I was simultaneously standing on the ground and floating in the air. He wouldn’t go until he kissed me? He wanted me for YEARS? I wanted to rush over to him, to wrap my arms around him and kiss him so hard our mouths hurt. Even if that meant crushing his guitar between us. But… some part of me couldn’t believe what was happening.
Tyler looked at me, his eyes warm. “I was hoping we could finish the song together.”
I bit my lower lip and smiled, nodding vigorously. “And I’ll do the singing.”
“Yes, please,” Ty said, smiling.
There was a moment of silence, then my grandma threw back her head and cackled. She shoved her cane under her arm and applauded so hard that I thought she might break her hands. “What an absolute riot! What a hoot this young man is. The pick of the litter, I say. ‘I won’t go until I’ve kissed her.’ Oh my, what a carol!”
The rest of the family applauded. Some of them clearly didn’t know what they’d just witnessed. Fortunately, my mom had the wherewithal to understand what was happening, and she started ushering people back inside to give us a moment.
“You two come in when you’re done,” Mom said, winking.
My family laughed and cheered as they made their way inside. Some patted Tyler on the back and congratulated him. From inside the house, I could hear my uncles singing the lyrics to Tyler’s song.
Then, the door closed, and we were alone outside.
I approached slowly, my heart racing. “Did you mean it? You want me for years?”
“All the years,” Tyler said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about my voice… and I know the lyrics aren’t the best, but…”
And there it was.
That boyish charm.
That irresistible, sweet charm that made my heart do little flips.
“I loved it,” I said. I rubbed my eyes to keep the tears away. He’d said it. He’d actually said that he wanted to be with me for years. And he wanted to kiss me.
I suddenly felt nervous.
“There was one rhyme though,” Tyler said, “that I couldn’t quite get. Couldn’t find the right words.”
“What words?”
Tyler took off his guitar and set it on the lawn. He looked at me, his eyes meeting mine. “I couldn’t find a rhyme for ‘I love you.’ And I do, Nina. I do love you.”
That was all it took.
I charged across the yard, closing the distance between us, and leaped into his arms. I expected that throwing my entire weight into him would cause him to stumble back or fall, but Ty was strong. He caught me like I weighed nothing – he didn’t take a single step backwards. In a half breath, his hands were curled under my legs, and I felt like I was flying, my arms looped around his neck.
“I love you, too,” I said.
Our foreheads touched first. Then our noses. Then, under the glow of so many Christmas lights, our lips met. It was the perfect kiss. It was a make out under the mistletoe, it was sipping hot chocolate by the Christmas tree, it was candy canes and sleigh rides and snow. We fell into each other and kissed for so long that I forgot where we were.
It had happened.
It had actually happened.
Tyler and I were together.
49
Nina
Come New Year’s Eve, I’d only been dating Tyler for real for one week, but I was pretty sure it was the best week of my life.
Christmas morning, he came over to my house and surprised me with a gift – a set of flannel pajamas that matched his. However, with this gift came a warning: under no circumstances was I allowed to post pictures of us wearing our matching pajamas. And I was definitely, DEFINITELY, not allowed to tell Mason or Zoe about them.
So, naturally, the first thing I did was take a picture and fire it off to Zoe.
As if I wasn’t going to tell my best friend how secretly adorable her brother could be.
For the rest of the week, we were pretty much inseparable. We had a games night at his place with Zoe, Mason, and his mom. We went to all of my family’s Christmas dinners – and there were a lot of them. He was the perfect gentleman and loving boyfriend at all of them, only this time, I knew that he wasn’t acting the part. And that knowledge warmed my heart.
And now, it was New Year’s Eve, and me, Tyler, Zoe, Mason, Callie, and Kenzie were at Hideaway beach, waiting for the big celebration. Everyone from Beachbreak High came to Hideaway on New Year’s — there was always a huge bonfire, tons of dancing, and a magnificent firework display at midnight.
Callie looked down at her phone, a shadow momentarily passing over her eyes. Then she grinned, slung her arm around Kenzie’s shoulder and stared at the rest of us. We were all cuddled up on a blanket with a thermos of hot chocolate. “How nice for you all to have a New Year’s kiss.”
“You could find someone to kiss,” Zoe said.
“Oh, I think not,” Callie replied, running her hands through her long, blond hair. “I think I’ll just take Jace’s advice and kiss myself. Be my own New Year’s Eve date.”
“Good plan,” I said. “But, out of curiosity, why were you texting Jace about kissing? And where is he tonight, anyway?”
Callie rolled her eyes. “He’s busy. And don’t make this more than it is.”
I laughed and leaned into Tyler. He put his arm around me, and we stared at the boat rocking in the waves. In a few minutes, that boat would shoot a bunch of fireworks into the sky to celebrate the New Year. And my first year – first official year – with Ty.
Ty kissed my forehead. “You look beautiful tonight.”
“I do?” I was wrapped up in a scarf, gloves, hat, and, of co
urse, Tyler’s letterman jacket. It was a public declaration that we were officially back together.
Tyler grinned. “My jacket looks better on you than on me. Like it belongs on you.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. It was still hard to believe that this guy — this amazing guy — was actually my boyfriend.
“So what do we tell Parker when she sees us?” Tyler asked.
“Who cares,” I said. I’d glimpsed Parker earlier across the beach. She was surrounded by her minions and hanging off the arm of that wannabe tennis pro, Chad Francis. She didn’t look like she was in the mood to cause trouble. And if she was, it didn’t matter.
“She can try to do whatever she wants.” I shrugged. “Nothing Parker says or does could change anything.”
I was right, too. After everything we’d been through, nothing could come between me and Tyler.
Tyler kissed me on the forehead again. Then on the tip of my nose. Then on my lips.
“Break it up, lovebirds,” Callie said, giving me a little shove. “Countdown is on. Ten. Nine.”
The rest of the beach took up Callie’s count.
Everyone except me and Tyler. All we did was stare into each other’s eyes, not wanting anything else in the world except for each other. As the fireworks exploded in the sky and colors flashed across the beach, I saw the reflection in his eyes, and I kissed him.
He kissed me back, pulling me towards him with his firm grasp, holding me tight. I tangled my hands in his hair, deepening the kiss. When we finally broke apart, he whispered, “this was the best fake relationship ever.”
“I don’t think of it as a fake relationship,” I said. “It was just practice for the real thing.”
Ty laughed. “As long as you don’t expect me to come up with a Christmas Carol every year.”
“Too bad – you set a precedent with your performance,” I said. “I absolutely expect a different Christmas Carol every year. And so does the rest of my family.”
Tyler sighed. “Fine. But you’re performing with me next year.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said. I pulled him in for another kiss. I’d never expected to feel this happy, this safe, this comfortable with somebody.
For me, it could only be Tyler.
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Then, turn the page to read the first chapter of The Christmas Crush, a sweet, New Adult Christmas novella set in Evermore!
The Christmas Crush: Chapter One
Marley
Outside the windows of Beekman’s Bakery, the snow was thick and heavy, coating the streets of Evermore in a generous layer of glittery frosting. Beyond the falling snowflakes, ropes of multi-colored fairy lights twinkled merrily above Main Street.
It was a postcard-perfect Christmas display.
Inside Beekman’s Bakery, however, the festive scene left a lot to be desired. For one, the entire bakery floor was covered in a generous layer of flour, courtesy of my own clumsiness.
Secondly, my attempts at Christmas decor consisted of some sad strings of tinsel and a slightly terrifying blow-up Santa who smiled from the corner. I’d been too busy baking to do any proper decorating.
And last, but certainly not least, I’d forgotten to pay my heating bill. Which meant that I was currently decorating cookies while wearing three sweaters, an overcoat, and a fluffy pink woolen hat — all of which were covered in flour.
Only two hundred ugly sweater shaped cookies left to decorate before I could go home and crawl into bed with a family-sized box of peanut brittle. Honestly, I don’t know why I bothered. On a good day at Beekman’s Bakery, I’d be lucky if I sold fifty cookies.
My friend Ryan always said that I was an eternal optimist, and that this was both my greatest strength and flaw. I never really understood what he meant until I opened the bakery three months ago. It had been ninety days of bills, ordering mix-ups, more bills, sleepless nights, broken ovens, ten pounds of weight gain from stress eating, and more bills. Why had I never imagined owning my own business could be so stressful?
Right. My eternal optimism.
A rap on the window jolted me from my thoughts. I had closed shop for the day two hours ago. Who could want cookies at this hour?
I made my way to the front of the store, brushing flour off my cheek. Outside, a pair of perfectly made-up eyes peered through the front window.
Oh, great.
I unlocked the door and my older sister stepped inside, shaking the snow off her expensive-looking wool peacoat.
“I’m closed,” I said.
“But not to me, right?” My sister barged in and air kissed me twice. “Why on earth are you covered in flour?”
I touched my cheek and frowned at her. What was with the kissing? It’s not like we were French. In fact, the only hint of any European culture in our family was my father’s claim that we were Irish (we weren’t) and that our ancestors had come over on the Mayflower (they hadn’t).
It was my running suspicion that Dad simply made these claims to justify his two-a-day Jameson whiskey habit.
“Baking accident.” I shrugged.
Katherine rolled her eyes and thrust a hand on one slender hip. “Look at you, Marley. You’re exhausted. Are you sure you don’t want to be done with this… experiment? Pack up shop here and let me hook you up with a clerking job at the DA’s office? I have lots of good connections there, you know.”
I did know. It was something that Katherine, eldest Beekman daughter and successful attorney slash mother slash hostess with the mostess, was constantly reminding me of.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Well,” Katherine sniffed, offended. “At least let me lend you a serum for those dark circles under your eyes.”
Charming, in the way only an older sister can be.
“Why are you here?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Ooh, yes.” My elder sister perked up and whipped her brand-new iPhone out of her pocket. She scrolled on the screen for a few minutes before presenting me with a picture of a cake. A huge cake, in the shape of a stethoscope, to be exact. “Can you make something like this?”
I nodded cautiously. “It would take some time to do the decorating properly. Is this for Annika?”
Our baby sister was currently in her first semester of med school, much to my mother’s constant, bursting pride — she was going to have a lawyer and a doctor for offspring. Which only left one broke, unsuccessful, eternally single daughter to deal with. But, as I had once overheard her say – two out of three ain’t bad.
“Yes! Mom just heard from her — she’s coming home for Christmas with her new boyfriend and she was top of her class this semester. I thought we should celebrate her success.”
I swallowed back my bitter, middle child syndrome. I loved my sisters. I really did. Honest. “That’s great news, Katherine. I can certainly make something like this for her.”
“Perfect!” Katherine pulled back on her leather gloves. “She’ll be home on the 21st, we will have a welcome-home party for her that night. My place, of course.”
“Of course.”
Katherine air kissed my cheeks again — at a safer distance from the flour this tim
e. “Well, ciao for now, Marley. Don’t work too late.”
“Ciao,” I muttered sarcastically as I locked the door behind her retreating form. Apparently, we were both French and Italian now.
I turned around and flinched at the unfamiliar sight of blow-up Santa in the corner. I’d forgotten he was watching.
“You were probably having a great laugh just now, weren’t you?” I asked him as I made my way back to the kitchen area.
This was gearing up to be the Holiday Season from my nightmares, I was sure of it.
Now, only two hundred ugly sweater cookies to decorate and a stethoscope cake to plan before I could go home to my peanut brittle.
To read the rest of The Christmas Crush, click here.
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—Em
Also by Emily Lowry
Beachbreak High: A sweet YA series
It Had To Be Mason
It Could Only Be Tyler
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Rumors & Lies at Evermore High: A sweet YA series
Chase Jones is My Fake Boyfriend
Trey Carter is My Rebel Boyfriend
Dylan Ramirez is My Forbidden Boyfriend